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Not even a second was given for Max to gather herself after, unsurprisingly, surviving near death. Even Loretta’s shouting at the “assholes” who almost blew them up couldn't snap her out of it.
Only a pair of headlights, beaming down at her as she’s left alone when Loretta scurries off was enough to snap herself together.
The adrenaline pumps through her veins again. This time, it feels heavier and more loaded. Because Max has been here before.
Standing at the front of an old beat-up pickup truck.
And her heart stops. No amount of rewinding could get her to relive this moment the same when she watches Chloe fucking Price step out of the truck and in front of the headlights.
But that couldn’t be.
Chloe was dead.
She’d died on the grimy floor of their high school bathroom.
She’d been left for dead by the only person who could save her and the only person who could grieve her as much as she loved her–forever.
“Missed me?”
Max stepped closer, wary and wondering that maybe she actually did get blown up and the only explanation for seeing Chloe was because they’ve linked up in the in between or afterlife or whatever the fuck came after.
Max stared and stared.
Police sirens got louder.
And Chloe urged her. “Shit! Hurry, Max, get in!”
And Max complied. Ghost or not, she’d follow Chloe wherever and forever.
Surprisingly Max wasn’t shaking as she unlocked the door. She still wasn’t shaking when Chloe waltzed in like nothing. And still she didn’t shake when Chloe gave her a good run over with her eyes and a smile, and her sweet deep voice saying she’d love to stay up and mingle but she was seconds away from crashing down.
So Max led her upstairs and couldn’t help the grin when Chloe immediately face planted into the bed and snored.
It’s only when Max took a seat at the top of the stairs does she feel tremors throughout her body.
Chloe, love of her life, thorn in her heart, was sleeping in her bed. Not a single bullet wound, but hair green and not blue. Older face, still casual edgy clothing.
And still the most beautiful person ever.
Max felt tiredness seeping in but the worry of closing her eyes and it all being a dream kept her awake longer.
But if she was going to need to explain to Chloe that she shouldn’t quite exist, even if little, sleep was much needed.
So with one last lingering look at the forever blue haired girl of her life despite whatever hair color she had now, Max rested her head against the railing and closed her eyes.
Max startled awake. Neck sore and ass aching. But the moment her eyes glanced over and set upon Chloe’s figure, her heart lurched.
She didn’t disappear. She stayed.
Max stood up and stretched then walked over.
Oh, Chloe.
Her Chloe.
Max wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her.
But flashes of the storm and Chloe’s face just moments before Max made the decision she’ll mourn forever stop her from moving any closer.
Coffee and breakfast seemed like a better thing to do instead. And probably put Chloe’s truck in an actual parking spot.
Chloe is walking downstairs when Max comes back inside.
“Stealing my truck?”
“Just parking it.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about your lawn.” Chloe said, mid yawn.
Max stayed put at the door and watched Chloe hustle over to the plated muffin. “Oh, yum.”
“Coffee should be ready too.”
“Yes,” Chloe sighed. “I need some Java bad.”
Max finally moved and headed to join Chloe. She poured her a mug of coffee and was shocked when Chloe blew a long breath at it before taking a good sip.
“No creamer or sugar?”
“Nope. Black. Like my soul.”
Chloe laughed but Max couldn’t.
Then, Chloe looked around, nodding approvingly. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself. It’s very— “
“Hipster?”
“You. Is what I was gonna say.”
Max cleared her throat, breaking eye contact. “…right.”
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost since I saved your ass last night. I know we haven’t exactly been on the…best terms for years but I also know I'm still your favorite person in the world.”
Max inhaled shakily. Ghost was a term to put it lightly.
It was more like love-of-her-life-she-saved-but-then-condemned-to-death-again-and-shouldn’t-be-alive-but-is-standing-right-in-front-of-her-even-if-she-didn’t-deserve-it.
But that was too much of a mouthful, even for them.
Instead, Max said, “Chloe…” a name that held all the weight of love and grief and joy and anger and everything right and wrong.
“Max?”
“How…are you here?”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Um…I drove?”
“No! I mean—you can’t be here! You’re not supposed to—fuck!”
Max grabbed her head and really wished she had the power to create black holes to throw herself in.
Maybe that would’ve been a better solution—Max being the one gone and not Chloe.
“Whoa, whoa,” Chloe walked over to her, hands up in caution. “It’s my bad. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced.”
And that was the thing with them. They always show up unannounced.
“You…Chloe…”
Max couldn’t even find the words.
And it seemed Chloe couldn’t either. Because she didn’t hesitate to pull Max into her arms and hold her tightly.
Oh, God, she was warm. And strong. And felt so safe.
Max wrapped her arms around Chloe, squeezing as tight as she could, not wanting to leave a sliver of space at all.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Chloe murmured against her hair. “We have all the time to talk.”
But Max wasn’t sure if that was the case. Because their time ended ten years ago.
Still, Chloe was here, and she was real.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Max replied.
Whether she believed herself or not didn’t matter because Chloe believed in it. And Max believed in Chloe.
She always did.