Page 69 of WASP

Max moved away from the door, back down the hallway to Annie’s room, deciding to wait there for her instead, her mind still turning over Annie’s admission to her mother that she was in love with Max. It wasn’t a total surprise to her, but the confirmation filled her with the same warmth she had first felt weeks ago when she reckoned with her own feelings for Annie. She had spent the last few weeks trying to figure out the right time to tell her, but every time an opportunity presented itself, she hesitated—the looming question of where her future was taking her stopping her in her tracks.

Max slipped into Annie’s bedroom, flicking on the light, casting the room in a golden hue as she perched herself on the edge of the perfectly made bed to wait. Her gaze swept over the room. She’d only been up here a handful of times since she and Annie had started seeing each other, but on each occasion her eyes were always drawn to the stack of boxes in the corner. A reminder that Annie, like her, was in limbo.

A few minutes later, Max heard a door open and close in the hallway, and a moment later the door to Annie’s room swung open, whining on its hinges as Annie pushed through it. Startled to find Max sitting on her bed. Their eyes met, Max instantly taking in the redness of hers—she had been crying. That gutted her.

She stood, opening her arms for Annie to fall into. She did, breathing deeply as Max held her, not saying anything, rocking slowly on the spot. Annie’s head nuzzled against her, arms draped around her neck, letting herself need Max—a need Max took seriously. She pressed her lips to Annie’s hair, still a little damp from getting caught in the rain. She inhaled deeply, the scent of her jasmine conditioner wrapping itself around her.

“What do you need right now?” she asked softly against Annie’s temple, hands working soothing, repetitive arcs over her back.

Annie sniffled, stepping back enough to look at her through tired, intense eyes. “Can you give me a few minutes to put myself back together?” she asked quietly, blinking as she extricated herself from Max’s arms, fingers wiping at her running mascara. “I just need to, uh, digest a few things.” She offered a weak, apologetic smile, placing a chaste kiss against Max’s cheek.

Max hated the idea of leaving her like this, but the silent plea in Annie’s eyes was clear. She nodded, kissing her once more, ducking out into the hall, giving Annie the privacy she asked for.

The sound of a throat clearing stopped her. Colleen stood by the study door at the end of the hall. Even with her windswept hair and smudged makeup, she still looked like a force to be reckoned with as she straightened her red-striped seersucker shirt, assuming a practiced posture of confidence.

“Maxine,” she said, her voice slightly raw but no less controlled. “A word?” She motioned for Max to enter the study, which she obliged. “I hope you’re enjoying the party. Your first of many Dillinger Fourth of Julys, hopefully.” Colleen plastered on a fake smile, but there was a hollowness behind her eyes that Max couldn’t let go of.

“I’m having a great time. You are an excellent host, Colleen.” Max purposefully kept her response even, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her pleated shorts.

A proud smile replaced the fake one on Colleen’s bright red lips. “That’s very kind of you.”

An awkward and uncomfortable silence stretched between them while Max tried to figure out what to say to fill it. Colleen adjusted her cuffs, gaze flitting toward the window where the storm continued to grumble in the distance.

“I’m sorry you had to witness one of our family’s more…” She paused, choosing her words with precision. “Conflict-heavy moments.”

While her words were effortless and confident, Colleen’s eyes said otherwise, her gaze not quite meeting Max’s. “Annie,” she continued, letting out a sharp, defensive sigh, “has always been my most difficult child, which I suppose I should have known from the day she was born.” She laughed grimly, turning back to face Max.

Max didn’t move from her spot in the doorway, waiting to hear what else Colleen would say when given the space.

“Annie was born during an unseasonably warm spring in the middle of a once-in-a-generation lightning storm,” Colleen murmured, a humorless smile gracing her lips. “Now every time it thunders, I can’t help but think of her. The minute Annie entered the world, the power went out. She’s such a force, and frankly, that has always scared me. She’s never had a problem saying exactly how she feels—the phone calls I used to get from her teachers.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where she gets that from. Andrew, Avery, and Austin were never like that.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” The words fell quietly from Max, hanging in the space between herself and where Annie’s mom stood, looking out the window over the yard. “It’s actually one of the things I love most about Annie.”

Colleen turned towards her again, cool, assessing eyes sweeping over her, but Max didn’t flinch. “It can be enchanting at first, but it’s always been Annie’s biggest barrier to fitting in. She can’t help herself. When she has a thought, she says it. Lord knows her father and I tried to nip it in the bud, but Annie has always insisted on doing things her own way.”

“Maybe she wasn’t meant to fit in here?” Max replied, holding Colleen’s icy blue stare. She didn’t raise her voice, instead leaning on the military-brat-bred discipline to keep herself completely still. “Everything you just described as one of Annie’s flaws is exactly why I think she’s incredible. She’s the most selfless, funny, fiercely honest person I’ve ever met. She has the biggest heart that you feel the moment you meet her. Yeah, she can be a little intense, but so can I. You call her difficult, but all those parts of her that scare you? Those are my favorite because it’s where her power comes from and I’d hate to see that stifled for the sake of fitting in.”

Colleen stiffened, her jaw tightening as Max’s words landed cleanly over her. For a long moment, neither woman said anything. The silence in the study was deafening.

Gradually, Colleen dropped the edge from her posture. “I love my daughter,” she said, voice dipping low into something quiet and genuine, “but I’ve never quite understood her. I’m glad she has someone like you who does. She deserves that much.” She smoothed her hands over her white pants, fiddling with her rolled sleeves, not making eye contact. The wall she had momentarily let Max peek over slid back into place as she stepped forward, brushing past Max. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Maxine, I have a party to host.”

As Colleen reached the top of the stairs, Max called out, “Colleen.”

Annie’s mom paused, looking back at her over her shoulder.

“My name is Max. Not Maxine.”

Those sharp blue eyes, so terrifyingly similar to Annie’s, bore into her for one last silent power struggle before they softened. “Understood. Thank you, Max,” Colleen said with a slight nod, disappearing down the stairs, leaving Max alone once again.

The low whine of hinges alerted Max as she stepped back into the hall, eyes meeting Annie’s where she stood in her doorway, a bag in her hands. Since Max had left her, Annie had removed her makeup, slicked back her hair in a neat bun, and slipped into a long-sleeve shirt and terrycloth shorts.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, her hand sliding into Max’s as she approached. “I want to be literally anywhere but here.”

Max nodded, taking the bag from her and leading her down the back steps where she glanced around the corner and took inventory of the people milling about the kitchen. Lucky for them, not too many; most of the guests had begun to trickle back out into the yard following the storm.

Annie rummaged in a wicker basket for a moment, producing her key ring. She led Max through the connecting mudroom and into the garage. When they got to Annie’s car, she finally asked, “Do you mind if we go to your place? I just want to be somewhere quiet.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve even got some Baked and Blasted ice cream that has your name on it if you want it,” she said, acknowledging that ever since that one night Annie had shown up at her place and they had shared a pint, Max had made a deliberate effort to make sure she always had some on hand, prepared should the need ever arise again.