Maverick takes my hand, holding it tight. “I understand why he said something, but also, he maybe should have told you to tell Blossom?”
“That would have been nice, but I was an arrogant prick. I never would have told her what I did. I think it hurt worse because Barry, Denim, and the rest told her that they knew nothing about my plan, and I only told them after I did it.”
“Those motherfuckers!” Maverick seethes, making a startled laugh burst from my throat. He’s cursed around me, sure, but never with that much passion, and on my behalf.
I wave him off, still chuckling. “It’s okay. If they didn’t tell her, I don’t think I would have changed who I was. I’d be a seventy-five-year-old dick head.”
After my parents died, I was on a tear, trying to raise as much hell as I could since no one was around to hold me accountable. I had a few cousins here and there, but they wanted nothing to do with me after they saw the shit I was getting into. Not that I blame them.
Falling in with Denim was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done and I paid the price.
For the first few years of my curse, I thought about what I would say to my ‘friends’ when I finally got free. I thought about finding them and beating their asses, punishing them for not standing beside me.
But as the years dragged on, I had to sit with the knowledge that I was the one that did something wrong. I could have said no. It’s not like I was a child in middle or high school; I was a grown ass man with a fuck-it attitude who really fucked up. Now, I just wish them well and hope that they learned from my mistake.
Besides, I have years of youth to enjoy while their best years are behind them. I might have been cursed, but a win is a win.
“Enough of the heavy stuff,” I say, not wanting our beautiful day to be marred with bad memories. “Tell me how you got involved in baking. Have you always wanted to be a pastry chef?”
“Yes and no. I love to cook, so I initially wanted to be a regular chef, get a job in a kitchen, make my own menu. But in culinary arts school, I took a pastry course and discovered I have a delicate hand for it. My chocolates, especially, always earned compliments. I also loved the smell of the sweets,” he says with an adorable giggle. “It’s bad, I know, but it’s what drew me to pastries in the first place. Once I knew I had a knack for it, I changed tracks and went into the pastry program. Now, I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“And your job is nice?”
“Mm-hmm. My boss is the best and the other chefs I work with are friendly.”
“I’d like to see it someday,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “When I have a less busy day, I’ll come grab you and you can shadow me.”
“I’d like that.”
“What do you want to do, when you get documentation?”
I shrug, though I’ve thought about it. For the past few days while Maverick has been at work, I’ve tried to learn everything I could about the video games he plays. They’re all complicated—some more than others—but I like the idea of making a game that millions of people like to play.
It wouldn’t be easy, as I just figured out how to work the interwebs, but I’m determined and when I put my mind to something, I keep working at it until I master it. Maybe with some schooling and practice, I could do that.
“I had this Atari, I told you that, right?” He nods. “I loved Pong. There wasn’t much to it, just hitting a ball back and forth on a screen, but it sped up the longer the level went on. I always had the highest score out of all my friends. Even back then, I wondered how it worked and if I was smart enough to think of a game that cool. Maybe I can do something with video games, since I’ve always loved them? I’m not that proficient yet, but I’m getting there.”
Maverick nods. “You are. You’re really good at my first-person shooter games. Almost better than me. You can look up how game developers get started so you have a frame of reference. Then we can go from there.”
I kiss the top of his head, then breathe in his scent. “You’re too good to me.”
“No, I think it’s what you deserve after half a century as a piece of fucking furniture.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.” I spread my arms wide and spin in a circle. “You have no idea how good this feels right now. The wind on my face makes me feel like a brand-new man.”
Maverick’s brilliant smile at my antics makes my heart thud, his beauty unmatched by anything or anyone I’ve ever seen.
“How is it?” he asks, looking up at me shyly. “Being free. Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
I take his hand and spin him in a circle, making him giggle. Then I pull him into me and kiss his smiling lips, feeling him sigh before he tangles his tongue with mine.
Breaking the kiss, I rest my forehead against his. “Better than.” I breathe him in, his sweet scent wafting off indescribable happiness. “I can smell your emotions. If you let me claim you, I’ll be able to feel them through our bond.”
He pulls back and looks up at me cluelessly. “Bond?”
It slips my mind often that Maverick is just a human. He knows nothing of how a shifter’s bond works or what it entails. It is an all-consuming relationship that makes a marriage between humans look like child’s play. Being bonded to a shifter is for life, breaking it would cause so much pain that each mate would wish they were dead.
