“For real?”
“Yes.”
“Why do I still get the impression that this isn’t going to go well?”
I stand up and stretch, then give him a smarmy smirk that I half wish he’d punch off my face. “Probably because I’m an ex-con who just spent a decade locked up, and no matter what you go in for, innocent or guilty, minor or major, that changes a person. I’m not acclimated to the outside world yet and you’re terrified I’m off my fucking head, or at least that I don’t have enough common sense not to get thrown right the fuck back in.”
He starts pacing, back and forth, over the same spot of concrete. “I know you’ve ruminated plenty in the past decade. It’s a long time.” He stops and turns back to me. “But you’re right about being freshly out. The world has changed in the pastten years. Some of it for good, probably a big portion not. I’m worried about you going out there into it, but not because I think you’re going to hurt anyone or anything. I think you might be the onegettinghurt. You’re like a brand new baby.”
“Does that make you my unfortunate mother?”
He rolls his eyes, but his heart isn’t in it. I know how much we both miss my mom. At times, Scythe probably missed her more than I did. They were close, growing up. More like brother and sister than cousins. I don’t know that those times were everhappy, but they did share happy moments before everything fractured.
“It makes me someone who wants to be in your corner because I love you, Maverick. I’m not too afraid to tell you that. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just want to keep you safe. Your mother would want me to, butIalso want me to.”
“It wasn’t you that failed me.”
He nods, but the sadness in his eyes is unmistakable. Guilt gnaws at me sharply.
“I’ll check in,” I promise. He got me an older cell phone my second day here, along with most of the furniture that arrived. “You can have your tech guys track me if you want.” I have no doubt that the phone is being monitored. I’m not bitter about that. They’re protecting their own, and like Scythe said, they’re trying to keep me safe as well.
“Please check in.” He lets the silence linger between us for a moment. “Maverick would naturally be a great club name for you one day, down the road, if you ever want in.”
I’m not going to stand here and be any more of a disappointment than I already am, so I just nod to everything.Checking in. Staying out of trouble, and one day, maybe prospecting for a biker club that I have zero interest in.
Chapter 3
Loreena
Maybe this is all a huge mistake. Four years of writing. Leaving my address and number. Responding to Maverick’s texts. Agreeing to let him comehere. I did hope that maybe he’d never ask, but it seemed like it was the first thing he did. Cutting him out of my life is unthinkable, even if it’s better for him. After I talked to Sylvie, I had this terrible feeling that doing something like that would be taking the coward’s way out, or that he’d misunderstand and think that it was all him. Hurting him like that would haunt me forever.
I keep telling myself that he doesn’t have toknow. I invited him to my apartment. There’s no reason for him to learn about my situation. Eventually, though, he’ll find out. I’m only prolonging the inevitable if I don’t tell him.
I’ve been panicking about it all morning.
I’ve been panicking about it fordays.
I should have done this all differently. I could have waited and asked Sylvie to be here. I keep telling myself that I don’t have to answer the buzzer. I don’t have to answer the door. I can pretend that I’m not home. Make up some emergency. Reschedule for a time that never comes.
Why is it that no matter how much therapy you’ve had, it all gets forgotten the second you’re plunged into a crisis?
I know what this is. I know why I’m freaking out. If I sat down in front of my laptop with Dr. Munford, I could calmly explain all of this. But like every time I try to go more than a step from the building’s glass door, my mind refuses to think of any of that. The only thing I can process is how bad it’s going to be. My body goes to war against me, telling my brain to shut it down to survival mode, and so it does.
I grasp the edge of the kitchen counter, my fingers hanging over the lip of the sink. I duck my face down, close my eyes, and force myself to remember the breathing exercises that I’ve been doing for years. They don’t work outside, but I’m not outside. I’m standing in my kitchen. This isn’t a panic attack. It’s just nerves. I have every right to be anxious and edgy.
For four years, I’ve feltseen. I’ve beenheard. I’ve made myselfknownin ways that I couldn’t do with any other person. If Maverick meets me in person and finds me wanting in any way, if he rejects me and scorns me, I can’t even fathom how much it will hurt. My mind keeps going there and skirting away from the edges of that black void of pain.
I force oxygen in and out of my lungs, knowing that the more I do it, the deeper it goes, the count that I hold in between each inhale and exhale, will eventually start working. My body will respond. I just have to give it time.
After a few moments, I finally get to a state where my brain starts to give me the flipside of the argument. Instead of failure, there’s something else. A gentle acceptance. A man who listens as well in person, whogetsmelike he did in his letters.
The apartment is already spotless. I chose a long black velvet skirt, flats, and an oversized button up cardigan. It’s too much. Probably too pretty, but after I spent hours trying todecide what to wear, I’m not going to change. I spent another hour and a half curling my hair before I decided it was also too much and brushed the curls out into loose waves. I usually don’t bother with makeup, but I wanted that small buffer against me and the world, all my emotions laid out naked on my face. I didn’t overdo it, but there’s nothing moretodo.
I’m ready.
The apartment is ready.
The cookies I baked last night are arranged nicely on a plate on top of the counter. The kettle is full of water for tea, the coffee maker too. I could go try and do some work, but I know I won’t be able to focus. I don’t want to make a mistake on something so important just because I’m distracted.
