Maverick doesn’t hesitate. He grins and puts his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “She walked into Boots & Bourbon one night with her friends, and I swear to God, the second I saw her, I was gone.”
He looks at me like I’m the damn sunrise.
“I tried to act normal and play it cool, but I wasn’t cool at all. She was so mean to me, like feral cat energy, constantly shutting me down with every sentence.”
The reporters chuckle.
“But I didn’t care. I’ve never wanted someone more in my life. And I told myself right then—I was gonna marry that woman.”
I stare at him, heart racing. The way he speaks about our first encounter with admiration in his eyes, I know he isn’t lying.
My throat tightens.
Why would any man say that about me? Why would he still choose me after I’ve been so cold and moody with him?
I’m still reeling when another voice cuts through the crowd.
“Amelia! Amelia!” another reporter calls. “What do you have to say about all this? And how do you think your ex-husband, Jax Montgomery, feels about your sudden marriage?”
How the fuck do they know about my ex-husband?
I freeze, my spine locking up as all the blood drains from my face.
What the fuck?
I’m at a loss for words. My lips move, but silence stays. Jax was once part of a life I’ve long buried. I never mentioned his name to Maverick, nor did I want it to carry any significance.
Maverick steps between me and the camera like a damn wall. His face tightens, mouth firm, jaw clenched.
“Okay, buddy,” he snaps, eyes burning. “We’re done here.”
He shoves the mic back with the flat of his hand. “Thisisn’t a questionnaire. That’s my wife. You wanna talk football? Let’s talk football. But bring her ex into it again, and I’ll bury that mic in the fucking turf.”
Security personnel move in quickly, guiding the reporters away.
I don’t breathe until the flashbulbs are gone.
Maverick turns back to me, fury fading, his hand finding mine. “You okay, dollface?”
I nod slowly, still trembling. “Yeah. I just… I didn’t expect that.”
“You never have to answer for your past,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”
I swallow hard, blinking away the burn in my eyes. “You just… You always protect me.”
“Damn right I do.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, his voice lower. “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”
As the stadium lights start to dim and the crowd thins out around us, he pulls me into his arms again, like the whole world can wait.
And right now, that’s all that matters.
Maverick is stretchedout on the couch, his legs splayed lazily, wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. Cupcake is sprawled between his thighs, snoring softly, her little chest rising and falling like a warm, fuzzy metronome. Rex is perched on the armrest beside him, glaring with narrowed eyes and hissing occasionally.
Maverick barely reacts anymore. “You’ve gotta stophating me, buddy,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to the cat. “This is my house, get over it.”
I smile softly from across the couch. I’m curled under a cozy throw blanket, my legs tucked in and my cheek resting on the pillow. I feel sleep pulling at my limbs, my eyes blinking slower, lashes too heavy to keep open.
Eventually, everything slips away.
