Page 27 of It's a Wonderful Knife
“Not as an adult. My parents used to have a fake tree, but they always had it professionally decorated. I wasn’t allowed to touch the tree.”
“That’s… so… sad,” River murmured.
Max shrugged. “Holidays have never meant much to me.” He shot me a look. “Until now. I’m learning how to celebrate holidays the right way. Or at least, I’m trying.”
“You’re here, right? That’s half the battle.” I smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll buy you that Mackenzie ornament for Christmas.”
He gritted his teeth. “Oh, no, that isn’t a good idea, Royce. It costs over nine hundred dollars.”
I gulped. “Uh, yeah, never mind.”
“I appreciate the thought though.” Max gave a weak smile.
River glanced over. “Lucas makes it sound like I’m not at all down-to-earth, but I really am.”
Max shrugged. “You are who you are. Most people seem to like you.”
Raising his brows in surprise, River said, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Max.”
“Is it?” Max frowned. “I didn’t actually sayIliked you.”
River’s smile faded. “True.”
Lucas laughed but didn’t speak.
Luckily, we’d reached our cabin. I didn’t want Max to make things worse by explaining what he’d meant. Sometimes his clarifications were far worse than the original insult. So, I put my arm around his shoulders and steered him toward our cabin. “Night, boys. See you in the morning.”
“Me and my shattered ego can hardly wait,” River called out, as the sound of their footsteps faded into the black night.
Chapter Five
Maxwell
I was having the most wonderful dream of me and Royce. We were at my old house, before the fire, and we were swimming in my pool. We’d both just shed our trunks and were moving toward each other through the warm water, when an ear-splitting scream woke me.
I sat up, almost falling out of the bed because the feather mattress was so soft it lacked stability. Beside me, Royce also sat up, although he immediately got out of the bed as if ready for action. His blond hair stood up, and he was obviously still half-asleep, but at least he was trying.
“Wait here,” he rasped, stumbling toward the door.
“Where are you going? It’s freezing out. At least put on your shoes and coat.” I climbed from the bed and moved toward him.
“Oh, yeah.” He cleared his foggy throat and pulled on his jeans and then slipped on his boots quickly.
I grabbed his coat from the closet. “Maybe you shouldn’t go out there. I mean, who knows what’s going on. It might be dangerous.”
“Max, I’m a cop.” He took the coat and moved to the door, slipping it on. “Like I said, stay here.” He left, closing the door behind him.
The cabin was so quiet once he was gone. I moved to the window and peered out, but there wasn’t much to see because it was the middle of the night. Anxiety churned in my gut as I waited for him. It was impossible to go back to bed. It felt like forever, but in reality, it was probably only about a half hour before he returned.
He came in and closed the door behind him, looking tired. “It’s chilly out.”
“I’ll bet.” I watched him from where I was perched on the edge of the bed. “So, what happened?”
“Nothing, really.” He wiggled out of his coat and went to hang it up in the closet. He toed off his boots and joined me on the bed. “That couple we saw arguing—Santiago and Amelia are their names—they had a Peeping Tom.”
“A Peeping Tom? Out here?”
“Apparently.” He sighed. “Amelia swears she saw some guy peering in the window. She didn’t recognize him as one of the guests or the employees. She said he looked like a homeless person.”
