Max: A Cold Fury Hockey Novel (Carolina Cold Fury Hockey) by Sawyer Bennett

Author:Sawyer Bennett [Bennett, Sawyer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780425286517
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2016-12-12T18:30:00+00:00

I stand in Jules’ bedroom with her and watch as she stomps back and forth across the carpet. Her hands are balled into fists and her cheeks are bright red with fury.

“That son of a bitch can’t have them,” she yells at me, her arms waving wildly to punctuate her resolve.

“Jules,” I say in a lowered voice. “You need to calm down. The kids can hear you.”

She looks chastised and takes three paces to get in my face. She whispers harshly, “He can’t do it. That fucking asshole has no right. He can’t just waltz back into their lives now that they’re settled.”

“Honey…” I try to placate.

She just hisses at me. “That fucker wants those kids so he doesn’t have to pay child support again, and do you think he’s going to spend the money on them that they deserve—hell, that they fucking need to survive—if he can’t even be bothered to pay a fraction of what they cost in child support?”

Tears gather in her eyes and she starts shaking. I pull her into me, wrap my arms hard around her as I tell her, “It will be fine. I’ve got your back. He’s not going to do anything.”

She pulls her face back and looks at me, one tear slipping out, and it guts me. “I can’t lose them, Max. They’re all I have left of Melody. They are Melody. I can’t do it.”

She lets a sob out and presses her face into my chest. I hold her there for a minute, and because Jules is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, she only submits to her anger and grief for a few moments before she swallows it down and pulls away from me. She rubs her finger under her eyes to wipe away the remaining tears and her voice quavers, “I’m fine.”

“You are not,” I mutter and I reach into her back pocket to pull out the phone I know she keeps there. I thrust it into her hands. “Call Tina. Ask if she can watch the kids for an hour. I’m going to take you out to dinner, ply you with a few glasses of wine to relax, and then I’m coming back here with you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“What?” she says, trying to push the phone back at me. “No. I don’t need you to handle me, Max.”

“Yes you fucking do, Jules,” I growl at her, refusing to take the phone. “So let me do it. Call Tina. Now.”

I think she might argue but then she just nods at me silently and calls Tina, who fortunately was home. Jules briefly told her about Dwayne’s visit and that she needed about an hour to cool down. Tina gladly agreed and within five minutes she and her son Marshall arrived and I was ushering Jules out the door.

I take her just about two miles from her apartment complex to a cozy Irish pub that I had spied one evening after I left Jules’ apartment and before I hit the I-440 Beltline.

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