Chapter Sixteen
This Looks Different Than I Expected
Zora
The sun is soft when we pull into the lot at the park, the kind of late-spring warmth that carries laughter on the breeze.Kids run across the grass in a blur of color, their parents trailing behind with strollers and coffee cups.Ivy is practically bouncing in her seat in the back, Bun-Bun tucked under her arm, eyes shining at the sight of the swings.
“Can I go play now?Can I, Mommy?”
I smile, brushing a curl from her forehead.“Yes, baby.Just stay where I can see you.”
She bolts across the grass, squealing, her curls catching the light like a halo.Beside me, Maverick’s breath catches.
He didn’t say much on the drive.Just sat there in the passenger seat, quietly watching her in the rearview mirror like she was something holy.But now, standing here with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he looks like a man unraveling.
“She’s fast,” he says hoarsely.
“She’s always been that way,” I murmur, folding my arms.“Full of energy.Stubborn as hell.”
His mouth curves.“Wonder where she got that from.”
I bit my lip, unable to answer without betraying the emotion I am feeling.We stand there in silence, watching her climb the steps to the slide, waving at us like she owns the world.And for the first time in years, something inside me eases.
Because she isn’t afraid of him.She isn’t even cautious anymore.She is just Ivy, wild and bright and free.And Maverick is standing here beside me, steady and silent, letting her be.
When she comes racing back, her cheeks are flushed pink, a wide grin spread across her face.She tugs at Maverick’s hand without hesitation.
“Come push me on the swings!”
His eyes flick to mine, asking permission without words.I nod, my throat tight, and he lets her drag him across the grass, his long strides adjusting to her small ones.I follow behind them, my heart pounding, watching them take their first steps into something I always told myself couldn’t happen.
At the swings, Ivy scrambles onto the seat, kicking her feet until Maverick places his hands gently on the chains.
“Ready?”he asks.
“Higher!”she demands.
He chuckles, pushing just enough to send her forward.“Not too high, Trouble.”
She squeals with delight, pumping her legs.“More!”
He gives in, pushing a little harder, his rough voice softening into laughter I haven’t heard in years.And for the first time, I see it, not the boy who burned too hot, not the man who broke me.But a man trying to be better, trying to be a father.
We spend hours at the park.Ivy drags us from the swings to the slide to the sandbox, and back again.Maverick never once pulls away.He crouches low to help her build a lopsided castle, and lets her bury his hands in the sand, even pretends Bun-Bun needed his own swing.
And every time she laughs, his face lights up like the sun.
I sit on the bench, watching, torn in two.Relieved that they clicked so naturally.Sadness that he missed six years of moments like this.And hope, terrifying, fragile hope, that maybe it isn’t too late for them to have more.
When Ivy finally collapses against me, exhausted, I tuck her onto my lap.Her head rests on my chest, Bun-Bun squished between us.
Maverick sits beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, his voice low.“Thank you.For today.”
