The night air felt cool against my skin as I walked beside Max, the sounds of the party still echoing faintly in the distance. We had left the chaos behind us, slipping out of the crowd, away from Ryan and the tension that seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Max was quiet now, his hand still loosely holding mine, but there was a noticeable shift in his posture. He wasn't as tense, but he wasn't the carefree Max I had seen at the bookstore, either. This was different. He was holding something back, something heavy, like a weight pressing down on him, and I wasn't sure how to help him carry it.

We reached the bench near the beach. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was a welcome relief from the noise inside. Max let go of my hand only for a moment, sitting down on the wooden bench and letting out a deep breath, as though he was finally able to exhale after holding everything in.

I followed him, sitting down beside him, close but not too close. I could tell he was trying to give me space, but I didn't want him to feel alone. So, I shifted a little closer, enough for him to feel my presence without me crowding him. I wanted him to know I was here for him, no matter how silent he was.

We sat in the quiet for a few moments. The stars above were clear and bright, the beach empty except for the soft rustling of the breeze. It felt peaceful, and for a moment, I forgot about the chaos of the night.

But I knew Max wasn't going to be okay until he let it out. I had seen the way he reacted to Ryan earlier—how his entire body had gone tense, how his jaw had tightened, how he had barely been able to keep his cool. He was carrying something, and I wasn't going to let it slide. Not when he had been so open with me before.

"Max," I said softly, reaching out and placing my hand on his arm. He didn't flinch, which was a good sign. "You can talk to me. I'm here."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as though he was searching for something out there in the dark. I could tell he was thinking, processing—his mind working overtime, trying to make sense of everything.

Finally, he exhaled slowly, his eyes flicking to mine. "I hate that he's here," Max said, his voice low but raw. "I hate that I'm forced to deal with him. I didn't want this."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words, the frustration in his tone. I had seen the way Ryan had looked at Max, the way he had smirked, like he was still playing some kind of game. Like he could still control the situation. And I could see how much it stung Max—how much it *hurt* that Ryan was here, acting like nothing had changed.

"I know," I whispered. "I know you didn't want him here. But you're stronger than you think, Max. You don't have to carry this alone."

He looked down at his hands, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. I could tell he was trying to keep his emotions in check, trying not to let the anger or hurt break through. But it was there, in the tension of his body, in the way his voice wavered when he spoke.

"I just don't get it, Liv," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "We were so close. He was my best friend. Hell, I thought he was my brother. We went through everything together. And then, when everything went down between our families, he chose his dad over me. Like it was that easy."

I could see the pain in his eyes now, raw and unguarded. It was a side of Max I hadn't seen before—the vulnerable, hurt part of him that he didn't often show anyone. I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me, and I wanted so badly to say something that would make it better. But I didn't know what to say.

"Max, you don't have to explain. I get it," I said softly. "But it's not your fault. What he did... that was on him. Not you."

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration building again. "It's not that simple, Liv. It's like he knew how to push all the right buttons. He knew exactly what I needed to hear, what would make me trust him. And then he just... he betrayed that. He betrayed me."

I squeezed his arm gently, feeling his pain even though I didn't fully understand it. I couldn't know what it had been like to have someone who had been your closest friend, your rock, turn on you when everything got hard. But I could feel the intensity of his emotions, the hurt, the anger, and the confusion that still lingered inside him.

"It's not about what he did to you, Max," I said quietly. "It's about how you handle it now. You're not the same person you were when that happened. You've grown. You've learned to trust yourself again."

Max's eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. I could see the conflict in his gaze, like he was torn between believing me and holding on to the anger that had been eating away at him for so long.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive him," he admitted, his voice soft but certain. "I don't think I can. Not after everything."

I didn't try to tell him that forgiveness was easy, because I knew it wasn't. Some things couldn't be fixed, and not all wounds healed with time. But I also knew that carrying that weight around for the rest of his life would only hold him back. It would keep him stuck in the past.

"You don't have to forgive him if you're not ready," I said gently. "But you can let go of the pain, Max. For your own sake. You deserve to be free of it."

He was quiet again, staring out at the waves as if they held the answers. The soft rhythm of the water against the shore filled the space between us, giving him time to think, to process everything I had said.

"I'm trying," he said, finally. "I'm really trying, Liv. But it's hard. I just... I don't know how to make it stop hurting."

"You don't have to do it alone," I said, my voice steady but full of warmth. "You've got me. And I'm not going anywhere."

Max turned to me then, his eyes softening, and for the first time tonight, I saw a flicker of peace in him. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing my cheek before resting on the side of my face, his touch so tender it made my heart flutter.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice rough, but full of something unspoken. "Thank you."

I smiled, my chest tightening at his words, at the sincerity in his eyes. I wanted to say something in return, but words felt insufficient in the face of everything he had just shared. Instead, I leaned into his touch, letting him know, in my own quiet way, that I was here. And I always would be.

And in that moment, with the ocean stretching out before us and the night wrapping around us like a blanket, everything felt just a little bit lighter.