“Yeah,” he said. Not sure what more to say when there was so much he couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. Easing out of her, he immediately missed her heat and her touch. “How ’bout I make some coffee?”
Alexa nodded, her smile still small but turning playful. “Coffee is life.”
“Coffee is life,” he said on a nod. He scooped his jeans off the floor and forced himself to act all chill, to walk away, to keep his mouth shut.
Because what else could he do?
SITTING ON THE couch, the sounds of Maverick puttering around in the kitchen coming from behind her, Alexa quickly pulled on her clothes and made her way to the bathroom. She shut herself inside and pressed her face to the cool wood of the door. And let the quiet tears flow.
That . . . that had been the single most amazing thing Alexa had experienced in almost five years.
Everything she’d been wanting. Everything she’d been missing. Everything she’d been needing. Maverick gave it to her, not even realizing what he was doing, and how earth-shattering it truly was for her. He hadn’t just held a mirror up to her relationship with Grant—because, Jesus, when she thought of what’d happened in that bathroom at the inn, it was nothing like this. Mav had taken a sledgehammer to whatever last pieces of the charade of her life that she’d been clinging to. And in the process, making her see how much she’d tolerated that she shouldn’t have, how little she’d accepted for herself, and how much she’d convinced herself that something existed where it didn’t. And maybe never had.
Where had she been?
Why the hell had she given up on Maverick the way she had? Given up on herself? She’d had good reasons, right? Good, totally reasonable reasons. Except, what were they again? And why did they ring so hollow to her now?
God, she was a mess. And it was one problem too many for her to try to fix just then.
Shaking her head, she freshened up and met her reflection in the mirror. “Time to face reality, Al,” she whispered to herself.
How Maverick fit into that reality, she didn’t know.
Out in the hall, she found Lucy waiting for her and meowing repeatedly. The cat followed her to the kitchen, where Alexa found Maverick much as he’d been the night before—shirtless, jeans hanging on his hips, though buttoned this time, and sexy as hell. “Do you have some lunch meat or tuna I can feed Lucy? Just until I can buy her some cat food?” she asked.
“I have ham and cheese,” he said, gesturing to the fridge. “Help yourself to whatever you need. I mean it, Al. Like it’s your own house. Okay?”
She ducked inside the refrigerator, not wanting him to see just how much his words meant to her. “Okay, thanks.” For the next few minutes, she diced lunch meat while Maverick made toast and fixed them both a cup of coffee. They worked in silence and the way they moved around one another reminded her of all the times they’d made meals here when they’d been together. So she really didn’t need to ask how he knew how she liked her coffee.
When Lucy had her breakfast and Alexa had forced herself to eat a piece of toast, she sighed. “I should check my phone,” she said, moving into the hall. In the guest room, she found her cell. “Holy shit,” she whispered, her gaze latching onto the little notification numbers.
“What is it?” Maverick asked from behind her.
She turned, her stomach making a slow drop to the floor. “I have thirty missed calls and five messages.”
Standing in the doorway, his big arms crossed, Maverick frowned. “Do you want me to listen to them first?”
“No.” She had to face this. She had to be in control. For once. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she shook her head. “You’re not going to be able to shield me from all this, Maverick. It’s my mess. I have to fix it. I have to face it.” She wasn’t sure what would be harder to hear—Grant yelling at her or playing nice. And she honestly had no idea which to expect. That said a heck of a lot, didn’t it? Taking a deep breath, she played the first voice mail on speaker.
“Alexa, where the hell are you? Where did you go? I’ll come get you. Call me.” The tone was urgent, clipped, not obviously angered, but not just concerned, either.
“One down,” she said, playing the next message. Adrenaline made her hands tremble around the device.
“Damnit, Alexa. This is ridiculous now. Where are you? I’m . . . I’m worried about you, babe. Call me.”
She made a face at the phone. Was he really concerned about her? And did she care if he was?
Maverick blew out a long breath. “Fuck, Alexa. You’re killing me.”
“Why?” Her eyes cut up to his.
“Because I’m terrified that you’re going to give him another shot.” He braced his hands on the doorframe and hung his head for a moment. “And this isn’t about what we just did. It’s about what he did to you last night. For starters.”
She pulled her gaze away from the fascinating movement of the tattoos over his muscles. “I’m not. No matter what he says.”
Blue eyes flashed to hers.
“I may not know a lot yet, but I know that,” she said. “I won’t go back to him.” It was a promise. A vow. To herself more than anyone else. But to Maverick, too. Because even though he’d said what they’d done could just be fucking—and it had been some mind-blowing fucking at that—it had felt like so much more. What she should do with that just then, she didn’t know. But it didn’t mean nothing, either.
The third message played, the tone much more conciliatory. “Babe, please tell me where you are. I know I lost my temper. Things are just really stressed right now. Come home. Let’s talk this out. Like you said.”
She wasn’t sure how to read the tone, but what she could see was that every one of his messages was filled with commands. Tell me, call me, come home. And she also heard all the things he didn’t say, too. No apology. No declaration of love. Or was she reading too much into it? God, after years of misreading Grant’s words and intentions, she wasn’t sure whether to trust her reactions.
Alexa sighed and dropped her forehead into her hand. “This whole thing is so crazy,” she said almost to herself. “How is this my life?” Her fingers moved over the cell’s screen to play the next.
“Goddamnit, Alexa. I’m calling the police. Come home.” That one had the angriest tone of all.
“Great. You do that, I’ll be happy to tell them you physically threw me out of the house,” she whispered to herself. Although, if he called Davis, that guy wouldn’t give two craps that Grant had hurt her. Maverick was right. Officer Davis was a total lackey. “Last one.”
“Alexa, I love you. I’m . . . I’m sorry about last night. It won’t ever happen again. Just let me know you’re okay, babe. I need you so much.”
She blew out a breath and dropped the phone onto the bed beside her.
Maverick crossed the room and sat next to her. “You okay?”
“Wanna know the sad thing?”