“You don’t have to come down. I can bring the food up. It’s fine—”
“No.” I cut her off, head shaking. “I got this. I can do it.” I take a step down and make a mental tally. One down, at least thirteen-more to go. I take another and Tessa remains in place as she observes me with worried eyes. When I’m four steps down I beam at her. “See,” I breathe. “I got this.”
“Shannon, I don’t know. You already sound tired. You don’t have to do this. Maybe you should start with walking down the hallway.”
“No, Tess. I can do this.” Although I use her nickname, my voice is harsh, and I immediately regret letting my pride rear its ugly head.
Tessa’s lips seal tight and her gaze lowers. She pities me, and I hate it. She shouldn’t feel pity for me, the older sister. It should be the other way around. She should be looking up to me, wondering just how I do it. But instead she fears losing me over a fucking staircase.
The doorbell rings and Tessa takes that as the perfect opportunity to break the tension.
“I’ll get it,” she calls softly, scurrying down the rest of the stairs. Glancing over her shoulder, she begs, “Just please be careful.”
She walks down the hallway and I stop for a second, gripping the railing and collecting my breath. I’m already exhausted and my heart is racing. I can’t believe how weak I’ve become.
Tessa’s voice carries through the hallway. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but she’s clearly upset.
Several seconds later and a door slams shut, shoes scuffle across the floor, and stepping around the corner and in front of the staircase is Max.
Max?
Tessa is gripping his gray, sweat-dampened T-shirt, trying her hardest to drag him back down the hallway. She grunts and growls, but it’s no use. He’s a brick wall. He’s not going anywhere.
My heart catches even more speed as he looks up at me, then down at the hands I have tightly wrapped round the railing.
“You okay, Shakes?” he asks.
“I’ve been better,” I admit.
Tessa releases him, rushing for the stairs to get to me but Max, like a cheetah—swift and agile—beats her to the punch, picking me up in his arms and scooping up my backpack in the process.
“Watch out for the tubing,” I tell him.
He nods.
Tessa smacks him on the back. “I can help her myself!”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t carry her, little sis. Nice try, though.”
She growls at him.
I shake my head. They are ridiculous.
“Going up or down?” he asks, looking me in the eyes.
“Up,” Tessa says before I can respond. “Back to her bedroom.”
“Down,” I counter.
“Down it is.” A soft smile graces those plump, pink lips of his and he walks around Tessa, taking each step one at a time. Slowly. Carefully. Just for me.
“This is insane,” she sighs. “You know what? I’ll be in the bathroom scrubbing the grime off my fingers. Can’t believe I actually touched you. Why in the hell are you so sweaty anyway?”
“Long game of basketball and working out,” Max calls over his shoulder. Tessa mutters something under her breath and then stomps up the stairs. Max laughs. “Your sister is crazy, you know that?”
“Oh, trust me. I know,” I laugh.
“How are you feeling? Seemed a little stuck up there…”
“I’m good. It’s just my first time using the stairs in a while. I had to prepare my body for the task.”
“I can understand that. Tessa told me you got something new to help you get around. Is that what’s in this bag?” He gestures over his shoulder with his eyes.
I nod. “I call it my jetpack. The thing’s like magic.”
He laughs. “Glad it’s working for you, Shakes.”
When he’s a few steps away from the door, I realize that he didn’t take the turn for the den.
“Max, where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“No. Why? Put me down,” I say hurriedly.
“Is that what you really want?”
Honestly, no. But I can’t leave the house with him right now.
“Max.” I struggle to get out of his arms. Realizing this will only cause harm to me, he stops walking and places me down on my feet immediately. “What are you trying to do, kidnap me?”
He cocks his head. “Can I? Just for an hour?”
“An hour?” I reach for my backpack, sliding my arms through the straps. “Where will we go?”
“Wherever you want to go.”
“Paris?”
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to fight a laugh. “I still want to take you there one day.”
“And you’ll get me a bike with a basket?”
“I’ll pedal that baby for you.”
“Then where will I sit?” I ask, keeping the mood light and playful.
“You can ride on my lap. You can either face me or the handles. You know I don’t mind either of the views.”
I fight a laugh. “You’re gross. That is never going to happen.” I look back and sigh. “Okay. I guess an hour is okay. Where are you trying to go?”