Rialto (Unbreakable Bonds 8)

“Thank you,” Ian whispered in a rough voice. “I hadn’t expected anyone to notice.”

“But what’s my statement when it comes to Jude? What’s the grand thing I’m supposed to be saying when I meet Jude in front of the Justice of the Peace? Every time I try to figure it out for the wedding, I lock up. I’m afraid that whatever I decide, it’s not enough. He saved me, Ian. Gave me a life I didn’t even think was possible. How am I supposed to show the world that in a wedding?”

Ian reached across the console and placed his hand on Snow’s arm, his thumb rubbing across his wrist. “You don’t. Jude knows all of that, and he’s the only person who needs to know. The wedding is just a party to let everyone important to you celebrate your love for each other. It doesn’t need to be more than that.”

“So…if I wanted to throw a hillbilly barn dance in the middle of nowhere Kentucky…”

“Rowe would love you forever if you did,” Ian said with a laugh. “And we’d all have a great time because we’re together.”

“Thanks, Ian,” Snow murmured. He took his hand off the steering wheel and turned it to give Ian’s fingers a quick squeeze before returning it to the wheel.

“What does Jude think about the wedding and your decision-making problem?”

Snow sighed. “He’s worried. He wants us to make all decisions together, but I can’t make any. I think he’s starting to feel like he’s guilted me into this marriage thing. I’ve told him he hasn’t, but I know he’s not going to feel better until we start figuring some things out.”

“You’ll get there,” Ian said, feeling a little lighter about his morning out with Snow than he had. He glanced out the passenger window as they passed by shops while people hurried on their errands. They were still several blocks away from the restaurant, in a part of town that Ian wasn’t overly familiar with. The sun was peeking out between the clouds, but there was a feeling of rain in the air.

As they stopped for another red light, Ian’s eyes alighted on an increasingly familiar blond head of hair and thin frame. Max.

“Pull over! Pull over there!” Ian suddenly shouted. He lurched upright, shifting to the edge of his seat as much as his seat belt would allow so that he could get a clear view of Max.

“What?” Snow demanded. He was looking back and forth over his shoulder, trying to quickly change lanes through traffic so that he could reach to the curb where Ian was frantically pointing.

“It’s Max!”

It had been two days since he and Hollis had found Max on the street. He’d told Snow about the meeting, and his friend had been less than pleased to hear about it and more angry that they weren’t reporting him to the cops.

“What are you planning—”

“I just want to talk to him. And if you can’t keep it civil, then you can stay in the car. Or better yet, just drop me here. I can walk to Rialto.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“And I’m not leaving him alone, period. He needs help.”

Snow grumbled something under his breath, but Ian didn’t catch it. He didn’t care what Snow thought. Max needed his help. He needed someone to help him, and Ian was the only one likely to understand even a fraction of what he’d been through already.

The second Snow managed to pull into an open spot, Ian had his seat belt off and was jumping out of the car, ignoring Snow’s warning shouts behind him. He briskly walked along the sidewalk, hurrying to catch up with Max as he shuffled along. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a ragged jacket and his head was down, as if he were trying to block out the world around him.

“Max! Max!” Ian shouted as he got closer.

Max jerked suddenly, spinning around. His entire body tensed as if he were preparing to bolt, but then he seemed to relax again when he caught sight of Ian rushing toward him. His face twisted into an ugly sneer and he stopped.

“What the hell do you want?” Max demanded when Ian was only a few feet away.

“To talk. Just to talk.”

“I got nothing to say to you.”

“Please. Just a few minutes.” Ian frantically looked around the area where they were standing. His eyes lit on the one place he’d always sworn he would never go back to. The first time, he’d been out drinking heavily with a bunch of friends. Now he was going to propose stepping inside while stone-cold sober. The Awful Waffle.

He pointed down the block at the Waffle House with its classic yellow-and-black sign. “We can just go inside for some coffee. Maybe something to eat.” He nearly said that it would be his treat, but he didn’t think those words would go over well with Max. The guy had his pride, and Ian’s existence seemed to stomp all over it.