“Surprise.” Jackson grinned at me. I must have looked less than happy because he moved to stand before me. “Did you... Are you not excited about this?”
I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat. “You should have told me that Dean was going to be here.” Given me a warning was what I wanted to say.
“Because you changed your mind, right?” Maverick was suddenly there, his green eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Because you had fun with my brother, but now it’s over? Is that why we should have told you?”
Jackson wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Sweetheart, we agreed to let Dean and Beau talk about this and not get involved.”
“We did no such thing.” Maverick huffed. He reminded me of the Maverick I first met. Angry and twitchy. Not the man who was happy and madly in love with my goalie. “You hurt my brother, Beau.”
A flash of green caught my eye. “Mav.” Dean’s voice was music to my ears. Soft and sweet. “While I appreciate you standing up for me, I think I can fight my own battles.” He smiled at his brother. “Thank you, though.”
“Of course.” Maverick glared at me again. “I’m watching you, Beau,” he warned before he let Jackson lead him away. And he was, too. Staring at me as they sat down, his eyes never leaving me.
Dean raised his chin as he looked at me, his green hair longer than the last time I saw him. It curled around his ears. “Can we talk, or do you want to ignore me in person, too?” He sounded hurt.
“I deserve that.”
“I don’t. I deserve better.”
He did.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wanted to take Dean in my arms and kiss him. Inhale that familiar leather scent that always clung to his skin. But I couldn’t. Not in front of my teammates.
“You fucking should be.” Dean turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway.
He walked over to where Maverick sat with his husband and slid into the seat next to him. He didn’t turn back to look at me, but Maverick did. His eyes flashed angrily as he bared his teeth. Yikes, he was a scary little man.
I squared my shoulders as I walked over to join them, only for Maverick to shake his head at me. “No. You’re not welcome here. You can’t sit with us.”
“Mavs.” Jackson reached across the table. “Don’t be rude and pull aMean Girls.Come sit next to me, sweetheart.”
He gave me an apologetic smile as Maverick huffed and moved into the spot next to Jax. He didn’t seem to mind when his fiancé wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. In fact, Maverick giggled happily as he leaned into Jackson.
I pointed to the spot next to Dean. “May I?”
“It’s not my bar,” he told me without meeting my gaze.
And I hated it. I wanted those emerald eyes on me. I wanted that smile. I wanted him to look at me the way he had when he came to my hotel room that first time. And my apartment. To beg me to touch him again. It was wrong on so many levels.
I slid into the booth, and Dean shuffled farther away. I deserved that. I shouldn’t have been so childish with him. I could have spoken with him instead of ghosting him. I just figured it was easier for both of us.
“Are you going to grovel now, Beau?” Maverick folded his arms over his chest as I turned to meet his angry gaze. “Because you should. Get down on your hands and knees. Beg Dean to forgive you and give you another chance. One you don’t deserve.”
Jackson shook his head. “Sweetheart, don’t be so cruel.” He looked horrified.
“Excuse me? Don’t you dare, Goose! You saw what Dean looked like when he showed up at our apartment last night. Brokenhearted and teary eyed. The man said he wouldn’t hurt him, but he lied. Dean deserves to be just as happy as I am. Beau needs to beg for forgiveness.” He blushed when Jackson leaned down to whisper something in his ear.
Brokenhearted? I turned to find Dean staring at me. “I thought maybe if I came here, you might have the balls to talk to me to my face. Tell me what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to you, Pink,” I admitted. “That was wrong and stupid.I just thought you’d be better off without me. Better off with someone younger and closer to your age. Like that guy in the picture.”
He blinked in confusion. “The guy in the picture?”
“The one with the purple hair,” I reminded him.
Dean moved a little closer. “Do you mean Jun?”
“You looked good with him. The green and the purple mixed well together.” Although I hated it. I thought Dean looked better with me. In my arms. In my bed. “He’s your age, right?”
