"Like this?"

"Yeah, that's it. C'mon, I don't got all day."

Setting her stance, Max pumped the wheel jack lever. To her delight, the car began to rise, the front wheel clearing the ground. "Look at my super-strength!" she giggled.

"Yeah, you're a real Spider-Max alright." Chloe stepped forward, her tools jangling from her belt. "Okay, I'll take it from here." She crouched down and started removing the loosened lug nuts.

They were in Pop's garage, the rain pattering against the windows and bringing the scent of wet grass. Pop's request for Max NOT to help Chloe with her job had gone completely ignored. She was willing to do anything at all to get Chloe to talk to her again. It had taken Max all of Sunday to get Chloe to say anything other than monosyllables. After a few more days of texting, Chloe thawed out a bit, though she wasn't exactly warm yet. Still, progress was progress.

"It's weird to see you here on a Thursday," Chloe remarked.

"The school year ended last week," Max replied, watching her work. Was it weird that she found Chloe's hands attractive? The way her veins stood out around her knuckles, how her dexterous fingers twisted the wheel free from the hub.

She shook herself to focus. "I thought I'd spend any free day I get back here. I can't overdo it though—the Blackwell Dorms won't allow a non-student to stay longer than four days, and I don't want to stress Rachel out."

Chloe didn't respond. She always got quiet whenever Max mentioned Rachel.

"I got my Blackwell acceptance letter, by the way," Max hurried on. "It came a week earlier than back in my timeline. Mom was over the moon. I guess that's why she let me come here a day early."

"Yeah," Chloe said, rolling the wheel to the nearest wall. "Yay, Blackwell. Another soul to squeeze the life out of."

"It's not all bad, you know. It's my reason for coming back here. And you know I'll still visit you every day."

"Don't write checks you can't cash, Max." The words came with an edge that gave Max pause.

"I mean it, Chloe."

Abruptly, Chloe dropped one of the lug nuts she was holding. It fell on her toe and rolled under the bench. "Fuck!" Chloe rasped.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Max! I'm not someone you have to babysit! You don't have to be around me the whole—I'm not—I'm—" Chloe choked on what she was about to say and turned away, planting her hands on the workbench.

"Chloe?" Max tentatively asked. "Are you alright?"

"I..." Chloe shook her head, her blonde and aquamarine tresses hiding her eyes. "Why'd you keep it from me, Max? Just tell me already. I know you've been itching to."

Max collected a breath. For an instant, she was in another time, standing before a much younger Chloe, unable to find the strength to tell her that she was leaving Arcadia for good. She wished there was a way to keep Chloe from ever getting hurt again. But that was out of her hands; she could only do the next best thing.

"I knew Rachel was special to you," Max began. "I knew you had something wonderful together. When I came here, I saw it firsthand. And I—I wanted to protect it. I admired it. Your relationship was—is beautiful. And if all I had to do was to wait a little while until we took care of our problems before letting the truth come out and ruin everything, well, that was a risk I thought I could take.

"I know you hate me for it, but I didn't do it for me. I wanted to tell you from the start. I made Rachel promise to come clean because you're—you're important to me too, and I didn't want to keep something like this from you. I grew up with you, Chloe. You were a big part of me and you always will be.

"I know I betrayed your trust and you're right to be mad. I wanted to spare you some pain, even if only for a little while."

The silence stretched long after she fell quiet. Chloe kept her back to Max, fists set on her workbench, head hanging past her shoulders. Then she began to shudder. Ripples of laughter escaped her mouth and Max reached a hand out in alarm.

"Chloe? What's wrong? Did I—"

"It's fucking hilarious," Chloe wheezed, dragging a hand through her green-tinted hair. "I'm mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I turned into a fucking hypocrite and I didn't even realize. What a goddamn joke."

Then her laughter petered off and the corners of her mouth pulled down. "I—I did an awful thing, Max. I hurt Rachel bad."

Max watched her for a second. "She told me about it," she said. "About Sera Gearhardt."

Chloe's shoulders stiffened.

"I've thought a lot about it, and I get it. You wanted to protect Rachel. You didn't want her to lose her relationship with her dad. And that's not a bad thing."

Chloe shut her eyes. "I wish that were all true, but it's not."

"Okay," Max breathed. We can fix this, was what she wanted to say, but stopped herself. Chloe wanted—needed—to talk, and nothing she could say would help at this moment. "What do you mean, it's not?"

Chloe leaned back against her bench and turned her gaze at the rain outside the window. "It's like you said. Sera didn't want Rachel to know what her dad tried to do. She made me keep her promise. And for a long time, I fooled myself into thinking I did it all for Rachel.

"But the truth was, I was scared, Max. For the first time in years, I found someone who was on my side. I fell for her, hard. But then I also found out I had to share her with someone more important—a mother she hadn't seen in years. Who could compete with that? What if she wanted to take Rachel away with her, far from Arcadia Bay? Where would that leave me?

"That thought made it easy for me to shut up. I could hide the truth because I couldn't bear to lose her. So I kept Sera's secret, and I wish to God it ended there."

Max nodded. "You mean it didn't?"

Chloe swallowed, still keeping her gaze averted. "One time, I was in the Amber house, waiting for Rachel in the living room. Then James Amber walked through the front door and saw me. He asked if we could talk, that it wouldn't take much of my time."

Chloe paused, her hands gripping the edge of the bench. "I should've said no. My instincts screamed at me to walk out of the house right then. But he looked so sad, so pathetic, I actually felt sorry for him. I stepped into his office."

"What did he want to talk about?" asked Max.

"He said that we had something in common—we both loved Rachel. There's nothing we wouldn't do for her—nothing I wouldn't do for her. That's how he figured out I was the one who broke into his office and took the money for Damon. He knew I had made him disappear.'"

Max touched a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

"He held up his hand when I tried to tell him he was crazy. He said he was grateful to me, because I made all his troubles vanish in a single day. I saved Rachel—his family, the most precious thing in his life.'

"'I didn't do it for you,' I told him.

"'I know,' he said. He also knew I could take this happiness away in a moment if I told Rachel what really happened. He'd been waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Rachel to turn on him. But she never did. But every time he saw me, he realized he couldn't wipe his crimes away. He wanted a guarantee.

"'I'm not a proud man,' he said. 'I know I have everything to lose. So I want to know now: what's this happiness going to cost me, Chloe?'

"I realized he was writing me a blank check. Whatever he could give to shut me up, he would. And right then, Max, I hated him. Hated that he knew I was willing to cover it all up, that he even thought he could bribe me. The thought of accepting something from him made me sick and angry. I wanted to tell Rachel right then. But I couldn't. I didn't want her to hate me for lying to her.

"So I said, 'I want you to love Rachel and do everything in your power to make her happy.' And I walked out. After that, I couldn't stand eating at his table, couldn't look at him being happy while my secret ate me up from the inside. I never went back to that house, ever."

Chloe fell quiet. When she turned to look at Max, her eyes were filled with tears. "You see, Max?" she murmured, "I did the most fucked-up, selfish thing just to keep Rachel here. I'm a complete piece of shit. What a pair Rachel and I make, huh?"

Max said nothing for a while. She took it all in, allowed herself to feel the hurt her two friends had endured. Poor Rachel. Poor Chloe. She'd make it all go away if she could.

"Chloe," she began. "That's not the whole story of why you kept your secret."

"It's enough of it, Max. Rachel was right—I helped her dad keep her prisoner here."

"Okay, fine." Max shrugged. "You're right to feel shitty about it. You hurt Rachel and she hurt you. But—"

Her hands balled into fists. "But those three years you had with her—they weren't all lies, were they? Because you and her made something wonderful. Rachel stuck by you because she knew you're a good person, Chloe. Good people can do shitty things sometimes, but it's because they're good people that they can make things right again. So don't you ever forget that about yourself. Chloe, you're the whole reason I came back. I had to. Rachel and I both know there won't be another you."

She knew what she was saying was stupid—none of it changed the wrong they'd done or the hurt they'd caused. But all the same, if there was any chance she could make Chloe realize how important she was, how Max had bent the arc of the universe for her, she would take it.

Chloe looked up, and Max recognized that it was her way of stopping her tears from falling. Then Chloe smiled.

"God, Max, you were never this much of a smart-ass when we were kids."

"I grew up a little, that's all." Max smiled back. "I missed you, Chloe. These last two weeks have been hell without you."

"Shut up."

"It's true."

Chloe's smile widened. "How'd you think I felt all alone here, stinking like grease and motor oil?"

They shared a little laugh. Chloe shook her head, still with her brittle grin. "I'm still so mad at you, you know."

"I know," Max laughed.

"I'm so fucking mad."

Chloe opened her arms, and without the slightest hesitation, Max threw herself into her embrace. She hugged the taller girl like she'd walked in from the cold, and Chloe was the only warm thing in the world.

They held each other for long moments too soft to count. Chloe mumbled something in her ear. What? Max wanted to ask and leaned back far enough to look into her eyes.

And then Chloe was kissing her.

Suddenly, the warmth she was embracing was inside of her too, filling her chest, tingling in a hundred places between her scalp and her toes. Her lips were still burning when she stepped back from Chloe's arms.

Chloe seemed as wide-eyed and flushed as she was. Then her surly look returned. A chill moved in where the warmth used to be. "Took it a little too far, huh?" she mumbled, turning away. "It's a joke. Forget about it."

Forget? Am I really going to push Chloe away after leaving her again and again? Do I even want to?

As Chloe moved to leave, Max grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back.

"Max, what—"

Max shut her up by capturing her face in her hands and kissing her back. Her heart throbbed a painful, lurching beat in her chest, but not for long. Only until Chloe's lips melted against her own. Long arms encased her and pulled her close, molding her against a strong, lithe body.

Chloe pulled away to ask, "Are we really...?"

"Don't—" Max whispered. "Don't think about it." And they were kissing again, eyes drifting closed, lips surging feverishly against each other while the rain died down outside.

"I can't believe we did that," Max said, laying her head against Chloe's shoulder. They were sitting together on the workbench, with Chloe's arm slung possessively around her.

"Yeah," said Chloe, her grin wide. "Wanna do it again to make sure it's real?"

Max swatted at her shoulder. "And how would Pops react if he caught us making out in his shop?"

Chloe mimed shoveling popcorn into her mouth.

"Shut up!" Max hugged her tighter, giving a contented sigh. "I've dreamed of this, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm. But I always woke up realizing I'm in a different timeline, and that you weren't...you know."

"Yeah," Chloe said. "But there's nothing stopping us now, is there?"

Max didn't answer. She leaned forward, eyes looking at the waning afternoon light from the window. "I should get to Blackwell," she abruptly said. "It's getting dark, and Rachel's waiting."

Through the pregnant silence that followed, Max could hear the gears in Chloe's mind working.

"You could stay with me tonight?" Chloe abruptly said. "You know, you can take the cot, I'll sleep on the floor."

Even as she said it, Chloe's tone faltered; she knew that was a stupid idea. Max shook her head. "I'm not getting you in trouble with Pops and Marl. You're already living here rent-free. We should keep it that way." She got up from the workbench. "But you can take me to the bus stop."

Arm in arm, they left the shop and walked towards Chloe's truck.

"Max," Chloe muttered, squeezing her hand, "you don't have to tell her anything. She's got nothing to do with this. With us."

Max nodded but kept her gaze averted. "I know."

It was only when Max was sitting on the bus that the full weight of what happened landed on her shoulders. Her face collapsed into her hands. What now? How could they move forward like this? Could they all even reconcile?

She had no answers to these questions, but she knew what she had to do next. She had to tell the truth. No more lies, no more secrets.

Max pulled out her phone and started writing a message to Chloe. It took her nearly the entire bus ride to Blackwell to complete and send. When she arrived at her stop, she drew in the cool evening air and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

She spotted Rachel almost immediately, waiting by the front steps of Blackwell, busy reading a paperback. Max unconsciously turned her whole body toward her like a sunflower seeking daylight. It wasn't fair; every time she saw Rachel, that stunning natural beauty took her breath away and tied her tongue into knots.

Then Max realized she was about to meet the goddess of Arcadia Bay, who could call down lightning and once burned down an entire forest out of blind rage. Shit, am I in trouble? Well, there's nothing for it. Steeling herself, she approached.

Rachel raised her head and brightened when she spotted Max. "You're here!" She hopped off her seat on the low brick wall and pulled Max into a hug. "Hey, what's with the look? Not happy to see me?"

I'm so easy for her to read. Max pulled back from the embrace and forced herself to meet Rachel's eyes.

"Rachel," Max began, "I came to tell you, um...I can't stay with you tonight. Or rather, I shouldn't."

Rachel tilted her head. "Max, c'mon. Where else would you go? Look, tell me what's wrong and I'm sure we can—"

"I kissed Chloe."

There was a period of silence that was nothing like silence—Max's pulse was throbbing in her ears and the world around her seemed to be pulsing with it. Rachel's frozen expression told her she was expecting to hear a different sort of bad news, one she had an answer for.

"It-it happened so quickly," Max rambled. "She-she kissed me first, then I kissed her, then I, um—"

What else could she say that wasn't going to make things worse? Sorry? For what? Rachel already knew she loved Chloe since forever.

Rachel turned to one side, a hand touching her face as if Max had slapped her—something she would never even dream of doing. It was a while before Rachel could speak.

"Wow," she said, fighting to steady her voice, "I guess the party's really over, huh? And this is my 'Send in the Clowns' moment." She managed a trembling little laugh. "That's what happens when you can't see the forest for the trees."

"Rachel..."

"Gotta hand it to Chloe. She works fast. Should've known the night she asked me for a kiss."

"I-I know you're mad at me, and that's okay. You're right to be mad."

Rachel stayed facing away, looking at the middle distance. "Would you believe me, Max, if I said I'm a little tired of being mad? I spent all week being angry at my dad, at Chloe, at this town, and finally at myself. Now, I...I'm just lost.

"I guess it's not like I didn't have it coming, you know? If the truth can hurt me, then I deserve to get hurt by it. And you've done nothing, Max, but be honest with me from the start.

"You two deserve to be happy. It just kills me that I was too scared to tell you the truth earlier on." At last, she turned to face Max, still wearing a bitter, quavering smile. "And now it's too late."

"Rachel, I-I don't understand. What do you mean, 'the truth?'"

Rachel was still smiling, but her face carried not a hint of joy. "Max, can't you tell?" She drifted close to Max, her voice dropping lower, her gaze warm through the tears standing in them. "Do you really not know?"

And the answer slammed into Max like a cold ocean wave. Oh. OH.

She stammered, "I-I thought it...I thought it was Chloe."

"It is Chloe," whispered Rachel, taking her hand in hers. "And it's you."


Rachel watched the stunned look on Max's pallid face. Who could blame the poor girl? She'd just confessed that she was in love with both her and Chloe. What was Max supposed to do with that?

"I guess that's a bit unfair," Rachel went on, bowing her head. "You don't have to say or do anything about what I said, Max. I'm not asking anything from you. I just...I want you to know. Because you and I, we don't keep secrets from each other, right?"

She looked up to see the tears welling up in Max's eyes. The hurt she saw there confirmed what Rachel already knew—Max felt the same way. But what room was left for these feelings now?

"I should go," Max said.

Rachel's heart raced. "No." She squeezed Max's hand. "Please—stay."

"I don't want to keep hurting you."

"You'll hurt me anyway if you leave me alone. So please, stay with me tonight. As a friend. I promise you're safe with me."

For a while, they stood quietly on the sidewalk, saying nothing. Rachel's gaze never wavered; above everything, she wanted to—had to—protect Max. And eventually, Max gave a slight nod.

The moment ended when a familiar ringtone blared from Max's pocket. "Black Sheep"—the tune she'd reserved for Chloe.

"I guess you better get that," muttered Rachel, stepping back.

Max stepped back. "Sorry, please excuse me." She turned away for a second to pick up the call.

"Hey, Chloe...huh? Say again?" Max paused. "A-are you sure? Like, now, now?"

Max caught Rachel's eye. "Okay, gimme a sec. I'll let her know." She lowered her phone. "Chloe's at the junkyard," she explained. "She wants us to meet up."

"That's crazy." Rachel crossed her arms and scowled. "You can't go there alone—it's past sundown."

"Rachel, she means us. Me and you. She says it's urgent." A wrinkle appeared between Max's brows as she talked into her phone again. "Chloe, what's going on?"


When will this end?

Chloe took another drag from her cigarette as she pulled into American Rust. The whole place was damp from the recent rain; the last of the afternoon light glistened on the car windows, and mud clung to her boots as she trudged inside. She didn't know exactly what compelled her to come straight here after seeing Max off at the bus station, only that she didn't want to go back to Pop's yet. Now that she was here, the plan started taking shape in her head. It became clearer with each step she took toward her former hideout.

Taking a deeper drag from her cigarette, she walked over to a discarded washing machine and picked up an empty beer bottle left on top of it. Then she fished out her phone from her pocket, scrolling through the messages.

She'd received some texts from David over the past few days.

[05/27 3:08 PM] [Step-shit]

Chloe, we had a deal. I need you to come home and tell me where the laptop is. Now.

[05/30 9:11 AM] [Step-shit]

Chloe, is Mark Jefferson Prescott's inside man in Blackwell? Was he buying drugs from the supplier to use on his victims? Who else is involved?

[06/03 10:20 AM] [Step-shit]

Dammit Chloe, you have to tell me what you know!

She never replied, of course; she enjoyed the thought that ignoring him pissed him off even more, and that this enormous crime happened right under his hairy nose.

Finally, she arrived at Max's text. She stopped to read it for the fifth time that day.

[06/06 6:34 PM] [Max]

Chloe, please don't get me wrong. I don't regret one second of it.

But I also know that you have something left to resolve with Rachel and that's not going to go away because you want it to. And I'm not going to make the same mistake this time: I'm going to tell her straight away. Even if she ends up hating me, which I know I can't stand.

You should do the same. I only want things to be clear between us all.

I love you. I always have.

Chloe smiled as she put away her phone. That's Max. Always needing to do the right thing. Me, on the other hand...

Kneeling on the damp grass, she set down the beer bottle and pulled the can of lighter fluid from her jacket pocket. She emptied the can into the bottle before stuffing a rag into its mouth.

If this won't end on its own, I'll end it myself.

Taking one last puff from her cigarette, she lit the rag with its glowing tip, then she raised the Molotov overhead, aiming for the hideout entrance. "Here's one last drink to us, Rach," she said. "Hell to the liars."

She watched the bottle arc through the night air, heard it shatter against the hideout's concrete floor, felt the first waves of heat as flame started licking its way up the trinkets and furniture they'd collected over the years. It all seemed so vivid. Strange, considering the Molotov hadn't even left her hand.

What the fuck, Price? You've already changed your hair—you can't burn a few pieces of junk?

Chloe let the cigarette fall from her mouth and crushed it under a heel. Baring her teeth, she pulled her arm further back to fling the bottle. But her hand wouldn't move. She remained there, frozen, Molotov held high and heating her palm, until she couldn't hold it any longer and brought her hand down.

I can't.

Staring down at the flaming bottle in her hand, she curled her lip and hurled the cocktail into the open window of the washing machine. It smashed against the interior and set it alight, filling the air with smoke and the scent of burning rubber.

Chloe turned and followed the long shadow she cast into the concrete shack. What had Max called it? A pirate fort. A place to keep the world out and hold her treasures. And it was full of them—three years' worth of memories. She could almost hear them sigh as she stepped through the threshold, like they'd been waiting for her to breathe life into them again.

It should be so easy to destroy this place. She had Max now, someone wonderful who loved her and whom she felt the same way. It should've been enough—more than enough.

And yet.

She wished she had Max's time powers. She'd go back three years, and then...what? Never show up at that damned concert? Never talked to Rachel? Would that erase everything? Could she go through with it? Hell, she couldn't even burn down this fucking shack.

"Rachel," Chloe whispered, staring around the hideout. At the elephant tapestry, the backseat of a car turned into a makeshift couch, the graffiti that bore their names. Things that would mean nothing to anyone else in the world. It would be so easy to reduce it all to ashes and walk away.

And yet.

And yet, part of her had hoped that she would come to this lonely shack to find Rachel inside, alone, reminiscing as she gazed at their little trove. It would've meant it all meant something. But of course, Rachel wasn't here—why would she be? She said it herself: Leos don't look back.

There was nothing to find here but the truth: she'd lost her heart to Rachel three years ago, and though she loved Max with all her might and would die for her, Max was right—part of her was still lost.

Why am I doing this to myself?

She turned to leave, but her eyes caught something odd on the floor. A second set of muddy footprints led into the shelter—but none led out.

Something moved from the shadows beside the doorway. A silhouette reached a hand out to grab the back of Chloe's head. She yelped in pain as a sharp object pressed against her neck.

"Move and I end you," the woman before her whispered.

Chloe's heart blocked her throat; it reduced her voice to a squeak. "Okay, okay, take it easy." She gulped, glancing down to find a large shard of glass being held against her neck. "What do you want? If it's money, I'm sorry but you've got the wrong girl."

The silhouette watched her for a moment, then growled, "Call her."

"Call her? Call who?"

"THE INCARNATE!"