Max

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The rain starts when I’m too far from shelter to bother running. It’s not much of a downpour, anyway. More of a drizzle, damp and unpleasant. The kind that makes you feel greasy, more than wet. Clammy—that’s the word.

I push on, resisting the compulsion to scrub at my face. I’ve been choking on a sickly mix of rage, grief and horror since yesterday morning. If I don’t walk off some of this energy, I’ll explode.

They still won’t let us see Rachel. Her lawyer’s supposed to be getting us in, but my phone’s been infuriatingly silent. Six o’clock: guess it’s not happening today. Meanwhile, the cops are all over that house. I drove by this morning, just to check, and they were everywhere. If there’s anything to find, they’ll find it. It’s only a matter of time.

I can’t wrap my head around the idea of Rachel as a murderer, but it’s all over the news. Even on the street, it seems like the only topic of conversation—inescapable. She shot him. Held the gun between his eyes and pulled the trigger—and why didn’t he run? They’re saying he knelt for it. Let her do it.

Maybe he thought she was bluffing. I would have. Anyone would have. It doesn’t make sense; it’s not—

A gust picks up from the north. Needles of rain sting my face—those tiny, spiteful drops. For a moment, the clouds thin. The setting sun peeks through, pink as a wound. I should turn back: last thing I need is a ticket for being in the park after dark.

But I’m not alone. There’s someone standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the waterfall. Her back’s turned, but those long, dark curls; that stupid giant purse—that’s Kate. Yet another reason to call it a night.

I pick up my pace. My anger’s like an infection, burning under my skin. Maybe she’s the wrong target, but it can’t be coincidence we both wound up at Meridian Hill. She came here looking for something, and so did I.

I narrow my eyes. “Kate!”

She turns around. It’s hard to tell, in the gathering gloom, but she doesn’t look surprised. She doesn’t look happy or sad, or much of anything at all. Even my name comes out toneless. “Max.”

I want to bound up the steps, but I take my time. She shuffles in place, fidgeting with her necklace—that same alexandrite pendant she wore all through high school. Didn’t know she still had that. She wasn’t wearing it at the wedding, which means she must’ve run home to grab it on her way to the airport. That was important to her. A hunk of purple-green rock.

I’m being petty.

I’m past caring.

“Did you follow me here?”

I smirk. “Just strolling down memory lane.”

She keeps her expression blank, but no way she’s forgotten our senior trip. We stood right there, on the opposite side of the waterfall, holding hands. I dipped her over the railing. Kissed her deep, to the cheers of half the class.

“You don’t remember?”

Kate glances at the spot where I kissed her, and I know she does. But she steps out of reach, retreating up the stairs. “Thought it’d be peaceful here. But it’s just wet and gray.”

“Think they do a lot of weddings here?”

She falters. “Not in this weather.” Her heel scrapes on the stone.

“But on a sunny day, with the wind whispering in the trees, the smell of spring flowers and fresh-cut grass—”

“Leave it alone.”

“Why?” I don’t need to elaborate. She knows what I’m asking.

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not? What could it possibly matter, now?”

Kate shudders. She’s still retreating, purse clutched to her chest. I should let her go.

“Was there someone else? A dream you never told me about? Did you just not care?”

She makes a sound like I punched her in the gut, somewhere between an exhalation and a ha. “You’ll never know how much I cared. How much I—” She shuts her mouth with a snap.

“What?” I practically bark it in her face. She’s fleeing, now, bounding up the steps with me in hot pursuit. We’re both slipping on the wet stone, me in my dress shoes, Kate in her pumps, but she doesn’t slow down, and neither do I. Not till she runs out of stairs.

I trudge up behind her. “Please. Say it. How much you what?”

“How much I loved you.” Kate turns around. For the first time since Kyle’s death, she looks alive, eyes clear of shock and exhaustion. “More than my life. More than my freedom. More than anything I had, or dared to hope for.” Now, she’s the one advancing on me. “I loved you enough to throw it all away, every shred of hope or happiness in my world. It was you. No-one else. There’s never been—no one’s touched my heart. Not since you.”

I hold my ground. “Your heart, eh?” Even with the rain on her face, I can see her tears. I brush one away with my thumb, tracing the contour of her cheek. “How about here?—anyone touched you here?”

She stills and says nothing, but her pupils dilate. A faint flush rises to her cheeks.

“Guess so, huh? How about here?” I drop my palm to her shoulder. She hisses between her teeth.

“See for yourself.” She guides my hand to the swell of her breast. I can feel her heart. It’s racing, pounding with anger, fear, passion—I can’t tell which.

“What are you doing?” That hoarse, broken voice can’t be mine.

“You chased me all the way up here.” Her purse hits the ground. I flinch as she grabs me by the belt, jerking me into her space. But she’s warm, and she’s here, and I can’t feel the rain any more: she’s pulled me into a dark little alcove, under the retaining wall. We’re alone. Sheltered. We could...we could. Here and now. Have the moment I’ve never stopped waiting for. Maybe then, I’d be free of what might have been. She’d be just like the others. Nothing special.

I lean in for a kiss. Kate bites me instead. I dart my tongue between her lips anyway.

She nips that, too, and then her hands are under my shirt, cold fingers sending gooseflesh down my neck. Her thumb grazes my nipple, and I gasp as it stiffens from the chill. And still, her pulse is galloping, fast and hard. I can feel my own keeping pace, even as the blood rushes south.

Her breath tickles my throat, and I shudder all over. Once again, I’m reminded she knows my body. Every kiss, every sigh, every shift of her hips against mine—she’s seducing me. Dragging me back to the beach, the raft, the student council room, all those promises unfulfilled, because we were waiting. Saving it for our wedding night. So many times, she brought me to the edge, just like this—

I spin her around to face the wall. Let her try those tricks now.

“Max....”

I peel her coat off her shoulders and let it crumple at her feet. Her dress is silk, loose and flowing. I picture it tearing under my heel as I ram her against the wall. My shoeprint on her hem, as she slinks back to her hotel.

I unzip her dress, and it slithers to the ground, revealing a thin ivory slip. I push one lacy strap off her shoulder, then the other, and that falls away, too. She’s bare underneath. Like she was expecting this.

“Bend over.”

Kate braces herself against the stone. She’s shivering: the rain’s blowing into the alcove, beading on her back. I kiss my way down her spine, tasting her skin. I shouldn’t linger, but I always loved this—her smooth skin, salt sweat, the way she murmurs encouragement—keep going; like that....

She’s leaner than she used to be, from a lifetime of hard work, but she’s still soft where it matters. I run my hands over her hips, her thighs, the curve of her belly. And those breasts—magnificent as ever. I flick her nipple, just to wring a moan from her, that deep, throaty approval.

Electricity hums, and the park lights blaze to life. Twin rows of lamps ignite along the staircases, setting the waterfall aglow. Rippling shadows race down Kate’s back. She shifts away from the arch—as if we could hide, if anyone happened by.

“Don’t stop.”

I wasn’t planning on it. But we’re tempting fate with the foreplay. I fumble my belt open and grab a condom from my wallet. My hands shake as I tear the wrapper: it’s the cold. Just the cold.

Kate glances over her shoulder. I bump her legs open with my knee. She arches for me, and I can see the glistening wetness between her thighs. So this is how she likes it: rough and filthy, with a hint of danger. I’ll give her that.

She jerks as I push in, muffling a cry. I slide my hand over her mouth: we’ve both had enough exposure for one week. I can feel her biting her lip, and fuck—I won’t last long. She’s so tight, clenching around me, and those little noises she’s making in the back of her throat...she never did that before. I groan and pull out all the way, thrusting in harder this time. Kate melts against the wall, suddenly boneless, and I catch her around the waist to keep her from falling. Something hot trickles over my knuckles—tears? Is she—?

“Kate?” I pull my hand away from her mouth. “What is it?”

She whimpers. “Keep—keep going. It’s fine.”

No, it’s not. She’s trembling all over, breath hitching. And she’s pulling her legs together, maybe not consciously, but—this is wrong. This is all wrong. I ease out of her, helping her straighten up.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, a quick, jerky motion, and then she’s crumpling to her knees. Pulling her slip over her head inside-out.

“Kate. Stop. Wait.”

What did I do? What did I just do?

“It’s not you.” She tugs at her dress. It tears under my heel, just like I’d wanted, but— “Move, would you?”

I lift my foot. There’s a lump in my throat I can’t swallow. All I can do is watch her squirm back into her dress—wet, muddy, ruined—and button her coat over top. She looks irritated, impatient, but her cheeks are flaming red, streaked with fresh tears.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” She’s glaring at me, hands on her hips, and—oh. I’m in the way. I step aside to let her pass.

“Wait!”

“What?” Kate whirls on me, eyes blazing, and I have no idea what I was going to say. I lean down and pick up her purse.

“You forgot this. And you’re—I don’t know. Upset. Pissed. Was this not—” I cut myself off. Obviously, this wasn’t what she wanted.

“I told you.” She snatches her purse, so hard the leather burns my hand. “I fucking told you, and still, you humiliate me like that? You couldn’t—you couldn’t just give me a second, before you make a whole drama of it?”

Wait...what? “I don’t...what did you tell me?”

“Weren’t you listening at all?” Kate rolls her eyes. “I said there’s never been anyone else. What did you think I meant?”

Oh. Oh.

“So it hurt a little—so what? I just wanted....” She blinks back more tears. “Just wanted to feel you. To feel something, other than... I don’t know about you, but for me, the last two days have been this rotten, stinking gulch of shame and regret, and...and... Why couldn’t you—why—?”

I reach for her cautiously. When she doesn’t shrug me off, I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry. I thought you were saying you’d never loved anyone else. I didn’t realize....” I bite my tongue. She deserves more than excuses from me. If I’d been listening, really listening, none of this would’ve happened. “Listen—you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I wasn’t listening. I fucked this up. Let me take you back to your hotel. We can get room service, talk, watch some Netflix—anything you want. Or I could leave you alone, if you’d prefer.”

Kate sniffles against my shoulder. “The hotel does sound good. I’m all...gritty. And wet. And unsatisfied—thanks for that.” She gulps in a deep breath. “Sorry. I....”

“Don’t apologize.”

She clings to me, a little tighter. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

“I won’t. I, uh.... I’d like to feel something else, too. Even if it’s just...comfort?”

Kate nods. “That sounds nice. Maybe we could call a truce, just for tonight?”

“Yeah.” I’m not up for another argument. I’m not even angry any more. More...confused. She loved me? Still loves me? She’s been waiting for me, all this time? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet...here we are. I’m missing a piece of the puzzle—I have to be. Why can’t she just spit it out? What could be so terrible, ten years after the fact?

Now’s not the time to push for answers. I slip off my coat and drape it over Kate’s shoulders. It’s every bit as wet as hers, but maybe the added thickness’ll warm her up.