“You deserved better than what you got, Maverick,” she continued. “Both of you did. And that’s not excusing anything he did. That’s just a fact. Both of you need to do a whole lot of healing.”
“I’ve been!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t fuck around on parole, I’m in A.A., I go to meetings, I have a job, and I have a house! What more am I supposed to do?”
“Why’d you buy the house, Maverick?”
“Because it was cheaper than renting a place, and because I couldn’t find a place to rent.”
“And why’d you buy a househerein Wilde Bay?”
“I bought it while I was on parole,” I said. “Where the hell else was I supposed to buy a house?”
Millie folded her hands as she watched me. Something that felt an awful lot like pity crossed over her expression, but I tried to brush it off. I didn’t need her pity.
“Do you want to live in Wilde Bay, Maverick?” she asked.
“I…” I closed my mouth slowly. I didn’t have an answer for that.
“Do you want to work on cars and repair houses?” she continued. “Or is that just the job you could get?”
I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer her. I just didn’t know how.
“Survival mode kept you alive, Maverick, but it didn’t give you a life,” Millie said softly. “You can’t build a life if you’re constantly preparing for it to fall apart.”
I sucked in a sharp breath as her words hit home. Survival mode had been my baseline for so long that I didn’t know anything else. It had dug its claws in when I realized no one was coming to save me. No one was choosing me. That was on me.
Keep your head down.
Don’t ask for too much.
Learn the rules.
Don’t give anyone leverage.
Life had become a list of unspoken rules to keep Aidan off my back, to make sure no one poked too hard into our lives, to keep food available, and more. I learned when to fight and when to run away. I learned to predict moods and use that to gauge when it was safe.
All those lessons followed me into adulthood. I learned how to read rooms and build fortresses instead of walls. I learned how to stay detached while calling it independence. I lowered my expectations and called it realism.
And then there was Harley. I didn’t have a clue what to do with someone who wanted me. It was intoxicating and terrifying. He was the first person to give me an inkling of what life could be beyond surviving. But even then, I still braced for the fallout as I tried to build something with him. Plans. Hopes. Dreams. All of it, I poured into him.
But that was the thing: I wasn’t doing it for me. I was doing it to be with Harley.
I didn’t know how to make all those choices for myself. I only knew how to make them to make him happy.To keep him.
I had no idea how to choose something simply because it made me happy.
“You have your whole life ahead of you, baby boy. It’s okay to stop and ask yourself what you really want from your life. And it’s okay to chase that. You did a damn good job surviving, Maverick, but now you deserve to be happy.”
Deserve to be happy…
It sounded so ridiculously simple—it should’ve been simple.
“I don’t know what makes me happy,” I whispered. The words hurt to say outloud.
“I know, baby boy.” Reaching across the table, she took my hand. “It’ll be the hardest thing you ever do—choosing yourself over choosing survival—but that fight’s worth it.”
I squeezed her hand tightly as I caved to the emotions clawing their way through my chest. A quiet sob clogged my throat. Thankfully, Millie didn’t say a word. She just sat there holding my hand as I fell apart.
CHAPTER 72
