…
Funny How These Things Happen
Part Four
…
Post-Max.
It's funny. We've become so used to getting things stolen—Angel, Iggy at one point, Ari, Nudge for a bit, my Mom—that we're not ready when we find things. With our record, you'd think we'd expect the unexpected, but can you really blame us?
…
The flight home was relatively quiet, since Fang was off in his own thoughts and I was fading in and out, carrying my shopping spoils in my lap.
When we touched down, our entourage couldn't get out of the house fast enough.
"Max!" Mom cried, reaching us first. "What happened?" My eyes were closed, but I could hear the glare in her voice, most-likely directed at Fang.
Fang probably rolled his eyes. "Max had to play the hero again, for this woman who almost got her purse stolen from a snatcher. The snatcher got in a few lucky shots. Her ribs are cracked." And that woman might just be your mom! But I didn't say that.
Mom sighed, and I opened my eyes in time to see her run a hand through her hair. Her voice was softer now, lovingly exasperated. "Okay, bring her in."
Nudge spoke up next as we were walking back inside. "What'cha got there, Max?" Her voice was excited, full of anticipation.
"Shoes," I replied simply, which led to an excited squeal from said motor mouth. "They're for the flock, and I got Ella some sandals."
"In other words, Nudge," Ella piped up jokingly, "keep your paws off."
The two girls lifted the bags out of my arms and hurried ahead of Fang, Mom, and I.
"Do we really all get shoes?" Gazzy sounded suspicious. "What for?"
"Because I yelled at you for no reason," I sighed, as Fang carried me up the porch steps and into the house, "and because you all need new shoes."
"Didn't you get yourself a pair of shoes, Max?" Angel piped up, her little fingers reaching up to squeeze mine.
"Naw," I said with a weak smile, closing my eyes again. "Your sneakers all needed replacing, while mine are still okay. Now where's Ig? I haven't heard him."
"In the kitchen!" he called. "What's up?"
"He's making dinner," Ella replied, from the living room, I guessed. To Iggy, she said loudly, "Max had to save the day again, but she got a little hurt and Mom and Fang are going to fix her up. But come out here! She got us all new shoes!"
The kids' voices all blended together, their cried of excitement and glee trailing up behind us as Fang walked me upstairs and into the guest room.
"You didn't buy yourself shoes?" he asked, lying me down on the bed. Mom had probably slipped away to get her supplies.
"The kids come first. They deserve nice shoes," I mumbled, opening my bleary eyes. Fang's face was surprisingly close, his body positioned nearly on top of mine as he perched on the edge of my bed.
"You deserve nice things, too, Max," he said quietly, kissing my forehead. Then he stood, slipping out of the room to be replaced by my Mom.
She looked from me lying, blushing, on the bed, to the hallway, down which Fang had just disappeared.
"Should I be concerned?" she asked, her eyes displaying the appropriate amount of motherly concern anyway as she brought in her first aid kit and began to set up shop on the night stand.
"No, Mom." I gave a little laugh, even as breathing hurt that much more. "We're okay."
…
We ended up taking a quick trip to the vet clinic for an X-ray, and, as it turned out, I did have three cracked ribs. Mom put me under house arrest for the next few days, basically saying I could do whatever as long as I stayed on my butt for most of the day. Much to her surprise, I agreed rather quickly. And so the next few days were pretty mellow.
On Tuesday, Ig and Gazzy had mercifully taken their experiments outside, to an abandoned gorge about ten miles from here where they'd be testing out some of their latest work. I'd delegated Angel to go with them and keep them in line, and she'd accepted with a pleased little smile, much to the Gasman's disgruntlement. Nudge and Ella were holed up in my sister's room, gossiping about the latest celebrity-or-other. Apparently, this Canadian guy was getting pretty huge, though I'd heard his voice a couple of times and thought he sounded like a girl. (Ella assured me this was pre-voice change, though the guy was supposedly sixteen.)
Mom was at work, which left Fang and I to our own devices.
We'd been having a movie marathon while I was on the mend, sorting through all of Mom's DVD's. We started out sci-fi cult, with the original Star Wars trilogy and the new Star Trek movie, moving on to fantasy cult, with the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter's first six years.
Basically though, the movies were just a front for us to snuggle for an extended amount of time and talk about anything and everything. Oh, and eat boatloads of air-popped popcorn, since it was one of the few things I could make without burning it to a crisp.
We had moved onto action/thriller/heists by Tuesday afternoon, and were currently watching either one of the Jason Bourne movies, or an Ocean's one. (All I knew was that Matt Damon was in it. I wasn't really paying much attention.) Fang and I were curled up on the couch, with me practically sitting in his lap, his arms wound loosely around my waist. A bowl of popcorn sat on the couch beside us, half-eaten.
Fang's breathing was steady in my ear, and I couldn't remember ever feeling this comfortable. (I think that every girl should have a Fang to snuggle with. Only, you can't have my Fang, because he's, well, mine.) We stayed like that for a while, only moving to grab for more popcorn, until Fang shifted underneath me and asked, "Max?"
"Hmm?" I pulled away, sliding off of his lap so I could meet his eyes. "What's up?"
He exhaled through his nose and looked down at his hands, which were now lying, empty, in his lap. "About Sunday, and what I said…" He trailed off, almost as if he was waiting for me to say something. I didn't. Fang sighed and took my hands in his, knotting our fingers together. "I'm sorry," he said to our locked fingers.
"I know." I meant it, too, and I rubbed my thumbs along the backs of his hands, squeezing them in reassurance. "I'm sorry, too."
"For what?"
"For scaring everyone, running out of here. For getting myself beat up. For scaring you." The last part I said in a whisper.
He released one of my hands, cupping my chin and forcing it up so our eyes met. His gaze were gentle, but there was a firmness in his words when he said, "I wasn't scared."
I nodded, knowing we were both thinking of my breakdown a lifetime ago on the beach, when he had been terrified.
"So… we're okay?" Fang's mouth twisted into a hopeful, teasing smile, and I nodded again, laughing.
"Yeah, we're okay."
We settled back into our movie, relaxing into the couch and each other's arms. Fang's breathing evened out beneath me, and I tucked my head under his chin.
He'd said he was sorry for what he said, meaning the part where my help wasn't really helpful, but he seemed to totally glance over the whole reason for the argument: Beth. I didn't know about Fang, but she'd been at the back of my thoughts ever since we stumbled across her, and I just couldn't shake the feeling that she was important, somehow.
As crazy, as implausible, as it was, I wanted to know more about her—I wanted to know if she really was Fang's mom. He'd said that I deserved nice things, just like the rest of the flock. Well, he deserved a mom. A real, flesh-and-blood mother. One that wasn't a fourteen-year-old stand-in, who was also his sort-of girlfriend.
Fang deserved a real mom.
"Fang?" I poked him in the side.
"What?" He looked down at me, eyes tinged with both vague annoyance and curiosity.
I sat up straighter, even though my chest protested a little. Jaw set, I said, "We should try to find out more about your mom."
His face shut down and he turned back to the movie, jaw clenching. "I don't want to talk about this."
"But I do, Fang. I'm not going to list all the what-if's, because you and I both know them. Shouldn't we at least look into it? We could do some internet surfing, she said she had a catering business! And I'm sure we can find birth certificates, or—"
"No." Fang stood up abruptly, and I fell back against the couch. He was facing the TV, but his shoulders were tight, hands clenched tight. "Max, just drop it."
I stood, too, grabbing onto his shoulder. "Fang, you deserve to know who your mom is," I told him, my voice soft.
But he just shook his head. "Just drop it, Max," he said harshly, turning away from me and ghosting around the couch, up the stairs.
I frowned after him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Fang—"
I was cut off by the shrill ringing of the home phone. Fang paused on the stairs, turning to quirk an eyebrow at me, our argument momentarily forgotten. I shrugged, bending to snatch the phone off of its cradle on the side table.
"Hello?"
"Oh, Max, it's you." It was Mom, and she was crying.
"God, what's going on?" My hands tightened around the phone, and I'm sure I sounded a little hysteric. Fang was back at my side in an instant. "Mom? Are you okay?"
"Oh, honey, I'm fine." She still sounded choked up, and I pulled the phone away slightly so Fang could listen in, too. My heart was going a hundred miles an hour. "Is Fang there?"
"Right here, Dr. Martinez," Fang answered, his voice colored with worry, too. "What's going on?"
"You two need to get down here, right away. You two won't believe—"
I hung up, not even bothering to finish listening to my mom's sentence. "Nudge! Ella!" I yelled up the stairs as we hurried to the door. "We'll be right back! Stay here, okay?"
"Wait—what?" Nudge's voice was quickly followed by footsteps, and then she and my sister were standing at the top of the stairs.
"What's going on?" Ella asked frantically, her brown eyes wide.
"Can't talk—gotta go!" Fang flung the front door open and I tossed him his windbreaker, jamming my feet into my frayed, battle-worn sneakers. Okay, maybe I do need new shoes… "Just stay here, okay?"
We were up in the air before I could hear their reply.
…
Yeah, I had to include a little cutesy Fax. I love steamy Fax and all, but cutesy Fax I have a soft spot for. I mean, I could never ever see Max and Dylan be all cute and couple-y. Dylan just rolls over at Max's feet, while Fang would actually do something for her, like snuggle with her on the couch when her ribs are cracked. ^-^
(Which reminds me [and I SHALL be stealing eclipsed heart's slogan, because it just fits]: REVIEWS are like FANGS to snuggle with. Because you ALL know you want one. ;) )
Lots of Love,
Your faithful author,
Lea
