Jason
It took five seconds for the universe to kick back into gear. It seemed whenever I was around Max — or my sister, for that matter — something happened to my molecular structure.
Every cell in my body shook with terror — in preparation for the other shoe to drop.
Somehow Max and Milo had turned into a curse to my body; I rarely escaped one of them without some kind of bodily harm.
And when they were together?
It was as if my body almost completely shut down right along with my brain. Maybe it was a self-defense mechanism. Maybe they both really were cursed, but I knew it was going to be a long four hours.
And that, at the end of it, I wouldn’t be surprised to end up in the hospital. They knew me by first name there, not because I was a well-known cop, or even because it was a small town.
No, they’d known me by first name after the fifth Max incident. The one where he glued my hand to my penis while I was passed out.
Gorilla Glue is not meant to adhere to skin, especially skin that was used to more… sensitive loving.
My balls tingled.
Shit.
I was going to end up dead one of these days.
It had taken forever to outlive the, “Oh hey, you’re Dickhand!”
The name Max had given me the minute they checked me in.
And since it was Max…
It had stuck.
Right along with my left hand.
I turned down the street and slammed on my brakes as a cat tried to cross the road. The liquid from my morning coffee somehow sloshed out of the cup — even though there was a lid — and went flying into my face.
Cold. Wet. Coffee.
I closed my eyes briefly, grabbed a napkin from my console, and wiped my face, then tossed it into the empty seat next to me.
The coffee spill was just a coincidence.
I pulled into my usual parking spot on the street outside the department and opened my truck door. Just then, a bus honked in my direction. I leapt back onto my seat and watched in horror as my mirror and door were amputated.
The bus driver flipped me off in the rearview mirror.
“Unbelievable!” I roared. My door was gone. MY DOOR!
At least I wasn’t injured.
It could be worse.
This… this was just bad luck mixed with fleeting thoughts of a girl with bouncy curls and the one who’d birthed her.
Had he slept with her, then?
And later dumped her?
I bit down hard on my lip as I walked into the station. People waved and nodded as I weaved my way to my desk and plopped down. I had scooted toward my desk when the legs on my chair somehow gave out, dropping me to the floor like a bag of bricks.
I sat in my own disappointment and annoyance for a solid minute before standing up and kicking the broken chair away. “Piece of shit.”
“Maybe cut back on the donuts.” Mendoza grinned as he took a huge bite of his sub sandwich.
I glared. “Did you do this?”
“Funny as hell, but sadly, no. Though, we did have a chair guy come by while you were gone. Said the chairs needed to be checked.”
I stared. He couldn’t be that dumb. “A chair guy? Since when have we ever needed a chair guy?”
“He’s legit. I looked him up.”
This was the problem with technology. Max, in all his boredom, could build a fake website in seconds. Hell, he probably did it with his phone behind his back while Mendoza questioned his legitimacy.
I paced around my desk, irrationally angry and extremely paranoid that if I opened any drawer, something was going to jump out at me; or worse, that Max had found a way to shrink himself into mini Maxes and packed them into my drawer in order to stop my heart.
Because it would.
Multiple Maxes would straight-up kill me dead.
You’d find my body on the floor, face frozen in terror as if that chick on The Ring had just crawled out of the TV and tried to lick my face.
“You’re jumpy.” Mendoza took another huge bite out of the sub, mayo spotting the corner of his mouth. “More jumpy than normal.”
“I have a menace on the loose,” I said under my breath. “Color me normal.”
“Menace? Who?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Seriously, don’t. The more I thought about him, it seemed the more the universe took control.
I very calmly walked back around to my desk, pushed my chair out of the way, and grabbed my empty coffee mug — only it wasn’t empty like I thought; instead, it tsunamied over the brim and seared my hand so hard I yelped and dropped it on the floor.
“This isn’t your day, man. Go home.” Mendoza looked concerned, as I held my hand and swore. “I think the chair guy freshened everyone’s coffee. Nice guy.”
“So. Nice.” I clenched my teeth and my still-burning burned hand. “I think I will take the afternoon off. Call me in if you need to.”
Mendoza gave me a two-finger salute as I calmly walked out the door, holding my hand together as the fires of hell burned around my fingertips. Just how hot was that coffee? I made it to my truck, the one missing the door, and kicked the tire over and over again, until, with one last wallop, I led with the top of my foot, rather than the heel or point.
Something crunched.
It wasn’t Max eating Pringles behind me.
It was my toe…
Dying a slow painful death as it swelled inside my boot.
“Could this day get any worse?!” I yelled. Just then, fierce rain began to fall to the cadence of thunder booming in the clouds. “Never mind.”
I jumped into my truck, started it, and suffered through ten minutes of extreme paranoia — not to mention pain — as I made my way back to the house.
I killed the engine and winced as my toe continued to throb. I needed to pull off my boot and see the damage, but the thought of looking at blood had me queasy. I limped toward the house and then paused, hearing laughter.
Of the Max variety.
It was coming from the neighbors’.
Dread pounded into my soul as feminine mirth joined with Max, and then I closed my eyes, as the pain seemed to increase tenfold.
“Jason!” Max called. “You said four hours! It’s barely been one!”
“You can count,” I said without turning around. “Shocked.”
“I’m ignoring that insult!” Max yelled. “It wasn’t even a good one. You’re losing your touch, Jason.”
I gave my head a shake and kept limping.
“Holy shit, what did you do?” His voice was closer.
Footsteps sounded.
And then I realized my fate. I was too injured to run to the door and lock it behind me, making me officially the baby turtle crawling across the sand toward the ocean.
And Max?
The giant dumbass bird was seconds away from sweeping my shell away and devouring me whole.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Max grabbed my shoulder and flipped me around.
I let him, because fighting just seemed like another way to somehow get hurt, and with my current luck, I could see myself flailing backward and becoming concussed across the gravel by the one rock big enough to do any bodily harm.
“Did you get shot?” He frowned down at my foot.
Maddy and the little girl followed behind Max a few feet, but kept somewhat of a distance.
There may as well be a chasm between us.
“I didn’t get shot,” I grumbled.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “So then, why are you limping?”
“People limp,” I said defensively.
“Old people with arthritis, maybe. And though you are getting up there in age…”
I glared.
He just kept talking. “…I highly doubt it’s because you have arthritis in your foot. Well, let’s have a look.” He snapped his fingers.
I glanced around me. “What do you mean, let’s have a look?”
Max actually looked offended. “I’m going to see if you sprained your foot. It’s what best friends do.”
“You’re not my best friend.”
“You say that all the time, and why? We’re spending the weekend together!”
My ears started to ring. “I’m sorry. Did you say weekend?”
“Didn’t I mention that before? The whole spa thing is for the weekend, some sort of girls’ trip. Milo and Jordan went too, so it’s just us guys.”
“Us. Guys,” I repeated. “You, me—”
A Town Car pulled up to the house.
Reid and Colt jumped out and made their way toward us.
I blinked. “Max…”
“Take off the damn boot already!” He gave me a little shove. “I want to see what we’re working with.”
“We’re working with nothing. You aren’t a doctor.”
“No, but he played one at drama camp one time,” Reid felt the need to say.
I sent him a seething look that did nothing to force him to back down; if anything, it was as if my anger encouraged Emorys, no matter which one.
“What’s wrong with his foot?” said Reid.
“Why even ask? It’s Jason we’re talking about here. He gets injured by breathing.” Colt chuckled.
I grit my teeth. “That was one time, and the doctor said it could happen to anyone!”
“I Googled it,” Max said helpfully. “It happens to llamas and those dodo birds, the really stupid ones.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for patience.
“You get shot?” Reid asked.
I shoved Max away and started limping toward the door. “You guys can stay with Colt. Consider this house closed to visitors.”
“Actually…” Colt cleared his throat. “—my parents said no.”
I hung my head. “What are you? Twelve? You asked your parents?”
“They said last time Max—”
“Hey! Your mom enjoyed that massage immensely!”
“Enough!” I yelled. “Just ENOUGH!” I spread my arms wide and turned just in time. “My damn foot feels like it’s going to fall off, my truck is missing a freaking door, and I just want to lie down in silence for a few minutes! I don’t care where you guys go, or what you do, just leave me the hell alone!” The moment I said it, I knew something bad was going to happen.
I didn’t, however, think it would be as severe as it was.
A crackle of lightning lit up the sky.
And then, another lit up my body.
The last thing I remembered was severe pain in my right arm, and a wave pulsing through me, before I fell to the ground and looked up at my friends’ shocked expressions then closed my eyes.