Picking Up the Pieces Read Online Free Page A

agent’s calls. He’s really just . . . I don’t know.” I could tell Marjorie wanted to say more but was restraining herself because she probably knew Max wouldn't want me to know all the details. “He’s just not himself. I tried to talk some sense into him, but I couldn’t get through. I know how close the two of you were. You’re the only one I thought he might listen to.” She ended her message by thanking me and requesting that I call her back to talk when I had a few minutes.
    Before hanging up , I’d jotted down her number, though I wasn’t sure whether I’d planned to call back. She’d said that she thought I’d be able to talk some sense into him? Me ? There was no fixing Max Samson. But as much as I told myself that he was way beyond repair and much too broken, I couldn’t help but feel guilt over the fact that I had been the one to break him.
    Well, shit.
     

Chapter 3: Lily
     
    Marjorie’s call had ground my senses to a halt. I was utterly lost as to what I should do. On the one hand, I didn’t owe Max anything. He had fucked up one of the best things I’d ever experienced because he was stupid, selfish, and vindictive. I needed all of that bullshit back in my life like I needed a scorching case of herpes. Okay, that settles it then. I simply won’t return Marjorie’s call. Except . . .
                  Max wasn’t all bullshit. He was funny and capable of such profound thoughtfulness that I had actually started to think of him as more like Adam than I had originally given Max credit for. If the past five months of relentless soul searching had resulted in nothing else, I had finally allowed myself to accept that I had felt very real things for Max—things that went beyond friendship. At the time, when all of my X-rated high school drama had gone down, I had tried to convince myself incessantly that we shared only a physical connection. Even when I hadn’t been able to deny that there was something there, I convinced myself that it paled in comparison to what I had with Adam. But now, I wasn’t so sure of that. And though my romantic feelings for Max had been extinguished by the supreme pain I felt after losing Adam, I couldn't deny how my skin prickled whenever I watched a hockey game or heard the word ‘doll.’ So where did that leave me?
    Totally fucked, that’s where.
                  This game of moral ping-pong continued throughout the weekend. I was thankful my parents had come into town to spend Labor Day weekend with me. Traipsing around Philly to visit all the tourist sites was a welcome distraction. Though I was a little bummed that I had to miss a birthday party for Kate, one of my CrossFit coaches. Amanda had gone, but I still felt bad that I'd missed the celebration. It also would've been an excellent excuse to get wasted and forget all of this nonsense. Plus, I missed out on the drama of Amanda's ex-boyfriend showing up and our CrossFit coach Shane pretending to be her new slam piece. I was shocked to hear he came to her rescue, especially after she called his dog his girlfriend and made oral sex jokes at his expense last week. That girl was truly one of a kind.
                  Even with all of the running around I did with my parents, the weekend still dragged. But I had to give them credit. They had been surprisingly supportive since my breakup with Adam. I think they knew the toll it had taken on me and decided not to be their usual, overbearing selves. Instead, they had just been there for me. And their effort had brought us closer. 
    After dropping them at the airport Monday morning, another horrible thought crept into my head: I had to go back to work the next day. It’s not that I minded working. I just liked not working so much more. I wrote lesson plans for the week and created some assignments to get the year rolling. As I looked at the papers spread all over my bed, I glanced down at my phone to check the time. 3:23 PM. My