Bags under his eyes. Lips tight. Hair mussed. And his T-shirt looks like he slept in it.

He’s hurting too.

But I’ve done the don’t talk about it merry-go-round before, and I know we can’t make this work if we can’t face the hard stuff. “Everyone struggles sometimes, Max, but you can’t just—you can’t push me away, disappear for two weeks, then come back like everything’s fine.”

“I know.” Still so quiet.

So beaten.

“What do you want?” I step out of the coffee mess, leaning back against the shelf under the mirror, giving myself just a wee bit more space. “Why did you come back?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. He glances to my right, then slides a look at the growing group of my relatives and friends pouring in the door. “You told me once that I challenge you. That I make you want to try new things and help people more. And I thought you couldn’t challenge me back. That I already had everything else I needed. I don’t need money. I don’t need a job. I don’t need a lot of people. But I didn’t know what I was missing until you challenged me to let you in. And then I found something I didn’t even know I needed. I found where I belong. I don’t belong anywhere, Tillie Jean. I don’t have a place I call home. I don’t have people who worry when I disappear. And I thought I liked it that way. But you—you gave me peace. You gave me belief. You gave me a home. You challenged me to be enough, just me, and to trust people to accept me no matter what. And I failed. I wasn’t up for it. But I want to be. I want to learn. I want to be where you belong. I want to be your family. I want to be your home. The same way you’re mine.”

He looks down and rubs his palms into his eyes. “Jesus. Just being here. Just seeing you—that’s all it takes. You make me okay. You make me want to work hard and stay okay.”

“And you left spring training behind to come all the way here and tell me that?”

“Fuck baseball. I don’t need it either. I just—I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do. I need—I just need you.”

The door swings open again and Pop walks in the door. “Tillie Jean, that asshole who didn’t know what he had when he had you has anxiety. Did you know that? It’s all over this here magazine with his naked—”

Mom, Aunt Bea, and Aunt Glory leap all over him and shove him back out the door.

Max is looking down again, thrusting his hands through his hair.

I reach across the bar and tug on his wrist until he lifts his head and looks at me.

“I didn’t know you did the article.”

His hand grips mine like it’s a lifeline, hot and firm but shaky. “I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of letting the demons win. You asked me once who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid of who I thought I was. I’d be the guy who chooses happiness. I’d be the guy who believes. I’d be the guy not afraid to say I’m sorry and I love you and please give me one more chance.”

My eyes are burning again, my heart whirling like it’s riding a helicopter blade ten thousand feet up in the air while I lean closer across the bar. “Are you saying all of that to me right now?”

“Yes.”

I swallow hard. “Okay. Go ahead. I’m ready.”

The corner of his mouth hitches up, but his eyes are still shadowed and haunted. “No shortcuts?”

“I’d expect nothing less than that to come right back at me, and you know it.”

He licks his lips. Sucks in a breath. And then meets my gaze. “Tillie Jean, of all the regrets I have in my life, the biggest is walking away from you like an asshole—”

“Like a festering boil on an asshole’s asshole,” Nana interrupts.

“Nana,” I hiss.

“Let her go, TJ,” Grady says. “You’ll appreciate this so much more ten years from now if you let her help.”

“Do you want to go out back?” I whisper to Max.

“No.” He squeezes my hand. “Of all of my regrets, the biggest is walking away from you like a festering boil on an asshole’s asshole—”

“Much better,” Nana declares.

“—And if I could do it all over again, I’d take your phone calls after I left the scene of the glitter bombing, and I’d tell you I was afraid your brother would hate me, but that you were worth that risk, and if he did, that would be his problem, not mine. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to love you. I want to make you happy. I want to travel the world with you and laugh with you and joke with you and give you jars of pickles for your birthday because it would confuse the ever-loving fuck out of you, and I want you to retaliate by giving me a bag of potatoes with your grandfather’s face on them because it’s the weirdest gift I can think of. I want to go to The Grog and challenge you to a game of pool instead of standing on the sidelines wondering what people would think if I did. I want to fall asleep in your arms every night and wake up to your give me coffee so I can live face every morning.”

“That’s a seriously ugly face,” Grady says like he’s trying to be quiet, except we all know he’s not. “Have you seen it, Aunt Glory?”

“Too many times, young man.” Aunt Glory shudders out loud. “Too many times.”

“I love that face,” Max whispers to me.

“It’s really not a pretty face,” I whisper back.

“It is to me.”

“It’s even worse than blotchy tear-face.”

He smiles. “I love all of your faces.”

It’s the smile that seals the deal.

Growly Bear Max?

He’s hot.

Smiling Max?

He’s everything.

Everything.

And I want to kiss that smile every day until I’m old and gray, and probably a lot more days after that too. “You know smiling is cheating, right?” I whisper.

“Not when it’s an honest smile.”

“I love you, Growly Bear.”

“I’m going to love you forever, Trouble Jean.” His lips brush mine, and all of the shadows and clouds I’ve been living with fade away.

We’re not perfect. So far from it.

But he’s everything I’ve been waiting for.

It’s time to leap headfirst into the adventure of love.

Epilogue

Max

Heading back to Shipwreck after the baseball season isn’t quite the same this year as it was last year.

For one, we only have limited time here since she’s enrolled in classes for the public administration degree she’s working on at Copper Valley University. For two, we’re both in her house instead of me moving in next door, though I made the offer for nostalgia’s sake. For three, there’s a hell of a lot less pressure, which I attribute one hundred percent to TJ’s lessons on do what you can do, be responsible for only the things you can affect, pay attention when the universe steers you, and let the rest go. And four, I’m not an outsider.

Turns out getting caught shopping for diamond rings makes a guy official around here.

But I still roll over in bed on the fourth Thursday of November, back in Shipwreck since TJ has the whole week off from classes, waking up and feeling off-kilter.