“You mean our secret annual thing?” Maze asked.
“Again,” Heather said slowly and clearly, “I don’t keep secrets anymore. And you know why.”
The cake soured in Maze’s belly. Yeah, she certainly did know why Heather no longer kept secrets. She turned to Caitlin. “Why didn’t you tell me Jim and Shelly were coming?”
At the use of her parents’ first names, annoyance flickered over Caitlin’s face. She probably thought Maze was still mad at them, but that wasn’t it. It was more that she felt like she didn’t deserve to call them Mom and Dad.
“I didn’t tell you they were coming,” Cat said, “because I knew then you wouldn’t.”
Was she that stubborn? Unfortunately, yes. “It should’ve been my choice to make, not yours.” And great, now her voice was trembling. “You don’t get to boss me around and make choices for me anymore.” It was a low blow and she knew it. But she wasn’t sweet like Heather, and she sure as hell couldn’t be rational like Caitlin.
“Michael was their son,” Cat said. “Their baby.”
See? Rational. “Believe me,” Maze said, chest too tight to breathe. “I get that.”
Disappointment joined the annoyance on Caitlin’s face. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that they have every right to be here at their son’s grave.”
While Maze did not have that same right. Got it. She started to stand up, but Caitlin tugged on her arm. “Don’t you dare go. They’ll want you to be here. And Michael would want that too.”
“Did you ask them?” Maze met her gaze. “Or is this a complete surprise for them as well?”
Caitlin winced, giving her away. Dammit. Maze shook her head.
“See, this is why it’s easier to not be part of a family.”
“A family?” Caitlin asked. “Or this family?”
Contrary to popular belief, Maze did have a few social skills and could read a room. She knew she was treading in dangerous territory here and was about to seriously piss off the only people who’d ever remained at her back. But a funny thing happened to her when she felt cornered. It made her . . . feel, which in turn made her even more stubborn than usual, and that was saying something.
Heather was already crying. But to be fair, Heather cried at the drop of a hat.
Maze closed her eyes to her pain. “Heather,” she murmured. “Don’t.”
But then Caitlin sniffed too, and when a tear ran down her perfect cheek, it shook Maze to the core, because Caitlin almost never cried.
“Stop that. You’re all just proving my point.”
Caitlin swiped angrily at her face. “Let me guess. You suck at meaningful relationships, so why bother, right?”
“Something like that.” But the real truth was Maze didn’t just suck at them, she destroyed them. That was what she did: sabotage her own happiness. And she was good at it.
“Bullshit,” Caitlin snapped. “You just don’t like needing anyone.”
Maze drew a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t come here to ruin this for you guys. But we all know that we’re here because of me. I’m the one. This is all my fault.”
At that, Caitlin stood, vibrating with fury. “No. You don’t get to own this, Maze.” She began shoving everything back into her bag, her movements jerky with anger. “We all made decisions we regret that night.”
Maze was vibrating too, with sorrow and angst. “I’m not a kid anymore, Cat. You don’t have to protect me, and I don’t need your misplaced sympathy. You should hate me.”
Heather was still crying, and Caitlin put her hand on her shoulder as she stared at Maze. “Is that what you want? Us to hate you?”
Okay, so she’d backed herself into a corner, and as always she was going to start swinging, taking out only herself. “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.”
Everyone stared at her in shock. Except Walker. He was still showing nothing.
“I refuse to believe that,” Caitlin finally said. “You’re part of this family, whether you like it or not. You can’t just run away. Love doesn’t work like that and I thought you knew it.” She nodded to Heather. “Come on, honey, let’s go wait for Mom and Dad in the parking lot.”
Maze didn’t watch them go. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else. The ocean. Puppies. Thai takeout. But it didn’t work. She strained to hear their retreat, but they must’ve already gone because all that came to her was the rumble of not-too-distant thunder.
Good to know she could still clear an area without even trying. Feeling sick, she opened her eyes and stared up at the churning, turbulent sky, which was in exact accord with her mood. Telling herself to get over it, she wiped her tears on the hem of her shirt before reaching for her chair to try to close it. When it fought back and pinched her finger, she gave it a good kick.
A low male snort came from behind her and she froze. Why was it that Walker of all people always got to witness her most humiliating moments? Was it karma? Was it because she’d once forgotten to say thank you, or maybe very slightly cheated on her taxes? Lied about not wanting to be a part of the only family she’d ever truly wanted as her own?
“Nicely done, Mayhem Maze.” Walker, of course.
Rolling her eyes at the old nickname that she’d definitely earned—“borrowing” that tractor notwithstanding—she glared at her chair, now upside down on the grass but still fully opened. When Walker reached for it, she stopped him.
“No, I’ve got it,” she said, practically choking on her stubborn pride. The theme of her life, of course: being stupidly, doggedly stubborn, because being perceived as helpless or needy made her nuts.
Walker pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and eyed her. “You going to kick it again?”
“Probably.”
There was a small smile on his mouth, but not in his eyes, those sharp blue orbs that saw everything and revealed nothing. “You never change.”
Aware that this wasn’t exactly a compliment, she looked away, because facing Caitlin’s parents was nothing compared with facing Walker. Forget the chair. She needed to be anywhere but here. Even a root canal without meds would be preferable.
“Walking off for the win,” he said to her back. “Shocking.”
She whirled around. “You’re the one who’s always gone.”
“For work. Not because I’m running scared.”
A direct hit. “Yeah, well, your work doesn’t deserve your dedication. It nearly killed you.” She barely managed to get the words out.
“What do you care? You’ve been ignoring me for years now.”
Yep, for four years and two months, but who was counting? “I’m trying,” she said, tossing up her hands. “For all the good it’s done since you’re still talking to me.”
He just looked at her for a long moment, then folded her chair with annoying ease—one handed—and set the strap on her shoulder. “Always good to know I still irritate the shit out of you, Maze.”
He was so clearly favoring his right shoulder, and her heart hurt. “It’s time for a new job,” she said quietly. “You know that, right? At some point, you’re going to run out of your nine lives.”