Read Online Flicker & Burn: A Cold Fury Novel by T.M. Goeglein - Free Book Online
Authors: T.M. Goeglein
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jostling hallway and gritted my teeth trying not to spin into a running-screaming-hugging whirlwind.
He was California tan, brown hair a sun-bleached blond, and he seemed taller. And then he turned toward me with a smile that made me forget the last electrical, suicidal twenty-four hours. He eased through the crowd, and when he embraced me and didn’t let go, I wanted to cry. For an instant it felt like my family was at home and ice cream creatures were a silly nightmare. He looked down with his trademark grin, and before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me. The public display of affection set off internal alarm bells as a thought emerged—
This is probably as dangerous for him as it is for me
—but quickly faded as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’ve been waiting for two months to do that,” he said.
“Me too, for that to be done to me,” I said. “For you to do that. You know what I mean, right?”
“I always know what you mean,” he said with a smile, reminding me of the talk we had the evening before he left for L.A.
It had been a balmy night in June, just before dusk, and we’d ridden his motorcycle to Hollywood Avenue beach. Initially, we’d both been hesitant to start a real relationship. Max’s reason had to do with his parents’ divorce, which made him feel unsettled. And me? I was bottled up with dangerous secrets about my family and the Outfit; I couldn’t tell him anything for fear of putting him in danger. But then a couple of months passed and we kept talking, kept finding opportunities to be together, and soon we were a couple. Now he was leaving for the summer, and it was such an odd time for me, having endured the attacks of Elzy and Poor Kevin and then losing a connection to my family when Lou disappeared from the Ferris wheel. With Max about to leave, I’d never felt so alone. We sat on a blanket watching Lake Michigan turn gold from the setting sun, me hugging my knees, him with an arm around my shoulders. My feelings must’ve been etched on my face, because he glanced over and said, “Yeah. Me too.”
I put on a smile. “It’s only a couple months. You’ll be back really soon.”
He nodded silently, and said, “Hey . . . I stopped on Argyle Street and got a banh mi. I left it in the carrier on my motorcycle. We can dine by sunset.” He stood, touched my head, and walked away. As he did, the blanket buzzed. I moved it aside and saw his phone, which had slipped from his pocket. Against my better judgment, I lifted it and looked at a floating text box from someone named Chloe that read:
Still can’t believe ur going to Cali . . . so sad . . .
My gut felt like it was flooded with ice water, and the phone trembled in my hand. The suspicion I’d always had—that Max would dump me—made my index finger scroll up to the previous text, from Max to Chloe.
This has got to stop, Chloe. Not good for me or u.
And the previous one from Chloe to him:
Remember the lake? Remember the private beach we found? Just the 2 of us . . .
And I was about to look at the one before that when Max said, “Uh . . . are you reading my messages?” He stood over me, holding a paper bag, his brow crinkled.
I looked from the phone to him and offered it up. “Chloe can’t believe you’re going to California,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s taking it pretty hard.”
“Oh . . . shit,” he said, reading the text and rolling his eyes. He dropped to his knees on the blanket, stared at the ground, and then wearily moved a lock of brown curly hair from his eyes. “Okay, look,” he said. “So . . . um . . . I cheated.” I nodded slowly and began to rise without a word because I’d cry if I spoke, and I refused to do that in front of him. Max grabbed my arm, but I pulled away. Then he did it again, harder, and I sat back as he said, “Not with her! I cheated with
you,
Sara Jane! I cheated
on
Chloe.” I thumbed away tears and looked into
He was California tan, brown hair a sun-bleached blond, and he seemed taller. And then he turned toward me with a smile that made me forget the last electrical, suicidal twenty-four hours. He eased through the crowd, and when he embraced me and didn’t let go, I wanted to cry. For an instant it felt like my family was at home and ice cream creatures were a silly nightmare. He looked down with his trademark grin, and before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me. The public display of affection set off internal alarm bells as a thought emerged—
This is probably as dangerous for him as it is for me
—but quickly faded as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’ve been waiting for two months to do that,” he said.
“Me too, for that to be done to me,” I said. “For you to do that. You know what I mean, right?”
“I always know what you mean,” he said with a smile, reminding me of the talk we had the evening before he left for L.A.
It had been a balmy night in June, just before dusk, and we’d ridden his motorcycle to Hollywood Avenue beach. Initially, we’d both been hesitant to start a real relationship. Max’s reason had to do with his parents’ divorce, which made him feel unsettled. And me? I was bottled up with dangerous secrets about my family and the Outfit; I couldn’t tell him anything for fear of putting him in danger. But then a couple of months passed and we kept talking, kept finding opportunities to be together, and soon we were a couple. Now he was leaving for the summer, and it was such an odd time for me, having endured the attacks of Elzy and Poor Kevin and then losing a connection to my family when Lou disappeared from the Ferris wheel. With Max about to leave, I’d never felt so alone. We sat on a blanket watching Lake Michigan turn gold from the setting sun, me hugging my knees, him with an arm around my shoulders. My feelings must’ve been etched on my face, because he glanced over and said, “Yeah. Me too.”
I put on a smile. “It’s only a couple months. You’ll be back really soon.”
He nodded silently, and said, “Hey . . . I stopped on Argyle Street and got a banh mi. I left it in the carrier on my motorcycle. We can dine by sunset.” He stood, touched my head, and walked away. As he did, the blanket buzzed. I moved it aside and saw his phone, which had slipped from his pocket. Against my better judgment, I lifted it and looked at a floating text box from someone named Chloe that read:
Still can’t believe ur going to Cali . . . so sad . . .
My gut felt like it was flooded with ice water, and the phone trembled in my hand. The suspicion I’d always had—that Max would dump me—made my index finger scroll up to the previous text, from Max to Chloe.
This has got to stop, Chloe. Not good for me or u.
And the previous one from Chloe to him:
Remember the lake? Remember the private beach we found? Just the 2 of us . . .
And I was about to look at the one before that when Max said, “Uh . . . are you reading my messages?” He stood over me, holding a paper bag, his brow crinkled.
I looked from the phone to him and offered it up. “Chloe can’t believe you’re going to California,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s taking it pretty hard.”
“Oh . . . shit,” he said, reading the text and rolling his eyes. He dropped to his knees on the blanket, stared at the ground, and then wearily moved a lock of brown curly hair from his eyes. “Okay, look,” he said. “So . . . um . . . I cheated.” I nodded slowly and began to rise without a word because I’d cry if I spoke, and I refused to do that in front of him. Max grabbed my arm, but I pulled away. Then he did it again, harder, and I sat back as he said, “Not with her! I cheated with
you,
Sara Jane! I cheated
on
Chloe.” I thumbed away tears and looked into
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