He smiles, his voice low and tender. “You.”
I let out a soft, broken laugh, and he grins against the nape of my neck.
“Finally, fuck, I have been dying to hear you laugh again.”
I let out a soft chuckle, gazing at the nightstand beside the bed. The words sit on my tongue, and at this moment, I decide to trust Maverick with the broken parts of me I keep to myself.
“Jax used to make me feel like I was crazy,” I say quietly.
Maverick tenses behind me, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“He’d gaslight the shit out of me, cheated, lied, and still made me feel guilty. I started thinking I was the problem.”
“You weren’t,” Maverick says firmly, dragging his fingers across the slope of my hips. “You were never the problem.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I don’t understand how you can even want me, fake or not,” I admit, staring at my fingers. “Not when I’ve been so… cold to you.”
He shifts, turning me around, so he can look at me directly, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of my face.
“Because I see you, Amelia. The real you, not the version you think you have to be to protect yourself.”
Tears sting my eyes again, but I don’t look away.
“You scare the hell out of me,” I whisper.
He leans in, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “You scare me, too.”
We lie there in the dark, tangled in sheets and truths, silent for once. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel scary to open myself up again.
This time, it feels like peace.
maverick
. . .
Maggie
Henderson Gala is next week, bring your fake wife and don’t be a fucking idiot.
Yayyyyy, another fucking gala, gag.
Fuck me, I’m so bored.
My pretty dollface is working late tattooing, and I’m here waiting for her like a lovesick puppy.
I lean against the couch cushions, twiddling with my thumbs as Rex glares at me from the cat tower I bought him.
“I bought that for you, fucker. You could at least love me,” I mutter.
Rex slowly blinks at me, flicking his tail and hisses.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll just go fuck myself,” I grumble, shoving myself up off the couch.
Getting up from the couch, I stretch my arms overhead until my shoulders pop, and wander upstairs. My feet drag across the hardwood because, honestly, I’m only heading up there to kill time until Amelia comes home.
I step into our room because she’s my wife, duh.
