Maverick.
I stare at the screen, it’s fucking late.
For a moment, I think about declining, but something about the quiet hum of the room and the weight of his name glowing on my screen makes me hesitate.
I answer.
“Seriously? What now? Did a possum bite you?”
There’s a pause on the line. No jokes, his voice is quieter than usual when he speaks.
“I need to talk to you.”
I sit up slightly in the chair, narrowing my eyes. “So text me, like you’ve been doing nonstop.”
“No,” he says, “I mean in person.”
Silence stretches for a moment.
My fingers tap against the armrest, waiting.
“I can come to Los Angeles tomorrow,” he continues, his tone low and serious. “Or… I’ll fly you out to Tennessee. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This isn’t something I want to do over the phone.”
My jaw clenches.
Something about the way he says it, the way all the usual humor has disappeared, makes my stomach twist.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m serious, please.”
I don’t speak as I watch the faint glow of traffic lights blinking beyond my balcony. My thumb traces the edge of my phone as Rex climbs into my lap, curls up into a little ball, and begins purring.
Tennessee.
A state I haven’t set foot in since saying goodbye to Catalina.
“No.”
I quickly hang up, feeling like a complete asshole.
But I’m not flying across the country.
I toss my phone facedown on the skeleton head nightstand next to my sage couch, then make my way into the kitchen to feed Rex.
Rex jumps off my lap and meows at me with attitude while I dish out his food, and I ignore him.
I ignore the tightness in my chest, the way Maverick’s voice is still echoing in my head.
Please.
He sounded like he meant it, which makes it fucking worse.
I barely get to breathe before my phone vibrates again.
Mom.
Ughhh. I almost let it go to voicemail, but guilt gets the better of me. I quickly grab my phone and press the green button to answer.
