In Plain Sight by Hope Anika

Chapter Nineteen

You did this.

Fiona stared down at the inflated hammer she held. It was cartoonish in size—nearly four feet long—and bright, florescent orange, but slamming it against the long, wooden counter of the balloon stand once or twice would be very satisfying.

Therapeutic.

Even if she looked like a maniac.

But the hammer was made of cheap vinyl, and it would pop as soon as it hit the wood. Which would be really loud, and then everyone would look. Plus, she would be out a piece of stock.

So she would have to settle for brooding and muttering under her breath. Which was not satisfying.

At all.

Especially when it wasn’t the countertop she wanted to hit. It was Max, right upside his big, fat, stupid head.

Who was he, to come here and point fingers? To yell at the people who were helping him? To stomp all over a girl who’d already been to hell and back?

A selfish prick, that’s who.

Some things never changed; stupid of her, to think they would.

The only good thing—the only satisfying thing—had been the look on Max’s face when he’d seen Thea. That’d been downright exquisite.

Not that Thea would agree. But still…

Small pleasures.

Rye had dragged Max away, presumably to get that drink. But not before giving Fiona a dark, searing look that promised something she didn’t understand.

He’d put himself in front of her with Max, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She didn’t need his help, or his defense, or even his support, but it had been…nice. Even if he’d stopped her from shoving some sense into Max.

And warned her not to interfere between Max and Thea.

A silent language, one conveyed in his gaze, by his body, and one she’d instinctively heard and understood. One she’d listened to, almost in spite of herself.

That unwavering, invisible conduit, tying them together whether she liked it or not.

But I do like it.

I expect you to overcome, he’d said, and the words had been eating at her since he’d uttered them, and she couldn’t forget the look on his face when he’d told her about his mother, and she’d been seriously considering saying something she never did—screw it!—because she might be all about self-preservation, but she knew life was short. And precious. And there were no guarantees—not in anything, not for anyone.

Not ever.

And…so what if she tried, and she failed?

Big whoop.

She’d failed before.

And if anything—anyone—was worth crashing and burning for, it might just be Rye Wilder.

She just had to be brave enough to try.

Right?

And yet…here was Max, teaching her all about the consequences of caring. Of trying. And failing.

Again.

That giving an inch meant regret; that with risk rarely came reward.

“Shit biscuits!” She tossed the hammer aside, picked up a wilted, giant blue crayon, and began to inflate it.

Stupid, jerk-face Max.

She’d known he would be more trouble than he was worth. And that was fine—she was a grown-up, she could deal—but Lena was just a kid, and if he thought he was going to do to her what he’d done to Fi, he had another thing coming—

“She’s not back?”

Speaking of Satan.

Max suddenly stood on the other side of the counter, scowling at her.

He wore those ludicrous black eyeglasses, but they did disguise him quite effectively. He looked natural in camo and the intricate tattoos that decorated his arms, more like the Max she’d once known.

Or thought she knew.

“Nope,” she replied and tossed aside the inflated crayon. She picked up another hammer and began inflating.

“You’re sure she’s safe with him?”

“Yep.”

Which was why she was blowing up Ares’ stock and flashing out his stand. That, and she had to do something.

Because waiting idly by was not in her. And even though the wagon needed supplies, she didn’t want to leave the lot. Not until they came back.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” Max rubbed a hand down his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. “That was a mistake.”

Fiona said nothing. The temptation to whack him with the hammer was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing to say?” His gaze narrowed on her. “That’s a first.”

She tossed the hammer to the ground. Picked up a giant green M&M and began to inflate it.

“Rye just handed me my ass,” he snapped. “I don’t need you giving me the stink eye, too.”

Oh, but you do. You so do.

“You should go,” she told him. “I’ll call you when they get back.”

He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “Is that your way of telling me I’m not welcome?”

“You never felt welcome.” Her voice was sharp. “That was never my fault.”

He stared at her without speaking for a long moment. Then, “No, it wasn’t.”

Which surprised her.

“How I felt about this life never had anything to do with you,” he continued, surprising her further. “But I took it out on you, and that was a shit thing to do. You never had any more choice in it than I did. I’m sorry for that.”

A faint buzz filled her ears; had he just…apologized? “Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine! Jesus. Can’t I say I’m sorry without you thinking I have a head injury?”

His disgust was accompanied by a black scowl; she bit back an unexpected smile.

“I was thinking body snatchers,” she said. “But, whatever.”

“You don’t make anything easy.”

“Why should you get easy?”

“I shouldn’t,” he admitted, and she stared at him in disbelief. He met her gaze. “I shouldn’t have left like I did. It was wrong, and I regret it.”

Sudden, unwelcome emotion filled her throat. She looked down at the M&M but didn’t see it.

“You should,” she told him. “You lost everything you had.”

“Don’t I fucking know it.”

His bitterness startled her. “Took you long enough.”

“I know.” The line of his jaw hardened, but he nodded sharply. “I thought I could be someone else. Anyone but him.”

Him.That she knew exactly who he was talking about made another wave of pain swell in her throat. Even after all this time, she understood what he didn’t have to say. No matter the betrayal, and the pain, and the fury, she and Max were bound by time and ties neither of them could willingly sever.

She knew. She’d tried.

“You were never him,” she replied. “You were more at fifteen than he would ever become.”

Max blinked; color flared in his cheeks, and to her amazement, he looked embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“What’s this about?” she asked because she didn’t understand. And she needed to. “What do you want from me, from this?”

“Well, my career is in the crapper, so maybe a job.”

“Not in this lifetime.” She nodded toward the .22, where Rye was flashing in and out of view, setting up the guns. “That one’s enough.”

Max frowned. “He giving you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

His gaze narrowed, and this time it was her turn to flush. “You sure about that?”

“It’s a little late to play big brother, don’t you think?”

“It’s never too late.”

She stared at him. Hope was slowly, stubbornly, curling through her. Stupid hope. “You’ve ignored me for the last decade.”

“I didn’t ignore you. Hatchet kept me in the loop. If you needed me, I would’ve come.”

Hatchet.Sneaky old fart! He had some explaining to do. “Why now?”

“Because I had a good excuse. Because I’m sick of being alone. Because nothing I’ve become is who I am.” Max shook his head and ran another hand down his face. “God help me, I sound mindful.”

Another unbidden smile tickled her mouth. “No one would make that mistake.”

“I want my family back,” he said bluntly. His gaze held hers, and Fiona realized he was asking.

He’d jumped, and he was just hanging there in midair, waiting for her to either catch him or let him fall.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. Was he really standing there, waiting for her to say…yes? Hoping she would?

She looked hard into his eyes, her heart beating with violent force.

Holy cannoli, he was.

Her throat grew tight, and her mouth opened. Then closed.

“I know you don’t trust me,” he muttered. “I don’t blame you. I just want the chance to…I don’t know. Start over. Try again. Something.”

“As opposed to nothing,” she whispered.

His gaze darkened. “Yeah.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes; she tried to blink them away. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If you make me regret it, I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to you.”

He grinned. “Done.”

Then, before she could move, he climbed over the counter and hauled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said against her hair. “I won’t screw up again.”

“You will.”

“Probably.”

She shook her head. But her arms slid around him, and she hugged him back. Tight. Memory surged through her, and the tears intensified. It was all she could do not to let them go.

“Thank you,” he said roughly.

She only nodded. It was too hard to speak. Too much hope and fear. But if he could put himself out there—

Well. So could she.

“Your bird flew back,” Rye said suddenly from behind them, and Max pulled away.

“Where?” he demanded.

Fiona wiped her eyes, painfully aware of Rye’s gaze.

He saw everything. Always.

“Right there.”

Humor softened his voice as he pointed at a young woman walking toward them on the bike path. She was clothed in a long, narrow black skirt, a black, sleeveless turtleneck, and combat boots. Her hair was pixie-short and the same brilliant green as the leaves she walked beneath. A diamond stud winked in her nose. Ares walked beside her, his left arm bandaged, a wide, satisfied grin turning his mouth.

“Holy cannoli,” Fi said.

“Looks like she got her own disguise,” Rye murmured.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Max said.

The look on his face was stupefied.

“Shit,” he said and climbed over the counter. Rye stopped him as he took a step forward.

“Go easy,” he ordered. “Or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

“You and what army?”

Rye nodded toward Fiona. “That one.”

Max held up his hands. “Enough said.”

Fiona threw the inflated M&M at him, and he picked it up and walked away with it. She watched him approach Selena and Ares when they stopped by the popcorn wagon to lift the steel awnings into place.

Rye stood beside her, watching, too.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

One hundred percent. Almost…reborn. And hopeful.

For the first time in a long, long time.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good,” he said and walked away.