No visits.
Nothing.
He was just gone. It was as if we simply ceased to exist… a flame snuffed out before we could ever be.
-Maverick, age 23
CHAPTER 14
maverick
Vodka bit the back of my throat as I took a long sip straight from the bottle. It was cheap and nothing particularly fantastic, but it took the edge off my temper. Across the fire pit, Jay’s girl—some barely eighteen-year-old townie that had no business being with a guy eleven years older than her—prattled on and on about more gossip bullshit that I didn’t give a fuck about.I never did when she was the one talking.
Honestly, I never gave a fuck what any of them had to say.
And yet, here I was, just like any other night, sitting around the fire pit behind Aidan’s place. We sat around drinking, eating, and shooting the shit as their friends or girls joined us.Most of the time.Sometimes, a job had to be done. On those nights, it was just Aidan, me, Jay, and the two other guys in Aidan’s crew—Ezra and Cash. I pulled my weight every time, but my job was simple. I worked as a bartender for the biggest theme bar in Wilde Bay. Most tourists made their way there at some point. Alcohol made me just personable enough to talk to them, find shit out about them that seemed nondescript, and then pass that information along to Aidan. I hadn’t personally stolen anything in two years, but I was damn good at spotting people who had the potential to benefit him.
I should’ve felt bad—and maybe some part of me deep down did—but I also had to survive. At least this way, I kept Aidan off my back and made money in the process.
I downed another long sip.Yeah, my life was fucking great.
“And did you hear who died?” Jay’s girl asked.Honestly, I probably should’ve tried to learn her name.She’d been to enough of these hangouts at this point. “That rich Lowell guy. The one with the mansion.”
I paused for a fraction of a second, my drink hovering on my lips.Christopher Lowell was dead?Across the firepit, Aidan watched me, his expression hard. It wasn’t difficult to know what he was thinking. I just focused on my drink. What did I care if he was dead? It wasn’t like they meant a damn thing to me anymore.
Jay’s girl continued prattling on about how the catering company she worked for—yeah, that’s what she brought to the table: information on big events that made easy targets—had already been contacted about the funeral. She described several business lunches and cocktail hours. Events. Lots of events.
The wheels in my head turned over every word she’d said, my thoughts sluggish as they clawed through hours of drinking.
Funeral…
Catered events…
Christopher Lowell was dead…
And all of that meant that Harley Lowell was back in Wilde Bay.
I took a long drink, trying to drown out that thought. Harley Lowell was a thought I hadn’t entertained in a long time.
Eventually, the sound of her voice irritated the hell out of me. It grated against my ears like pinpoint claws that I needed to escape. I climbed to my feet with my drink in hand.
“Night,” I mumbled over my shoulder as I half-waved at them. We weren’t a friendly, look-after-each-other group, so no one gave a fuck if I left. They’d be at it for hours. I embraced the dark of the trailer park as I wandered back to my spot.
“Maverick.” Aidan’s voice coming up behind me made me sigh in frustration. I rotated to stare at him, waiting expectantly for the bullshit that was about to spill out of his mouth. After a lifetime of being under his thumb, I was no longer afraid of him. I was just done. Survival did weird things to people. “Is this going to be a problem?”
I didn’t have to ask whatthiswas.
“Right,” I scoffed. I took another drink, emptying my bottle, as I turned and walked away from him. “Go fuck yourself, Aidan.”
My home was smaller than the one Aidan had. He spent his money, like he had something to prove to people that really didn’t give a fuck anyway. I did the opposite. I hid everything I could spare away where he couldn’t find it. I told myself that oneday I’d get out of Wilde Bay and be done with everything and everyone here.
As a result, I didn’t have much, and I didn’t need much either. I rented out a tiny trailer at the back of the park, skipped most of the furniture people normally bought, and just stuck with the bare minimum. There was a wobbly kitchen table kept straight by a stack of old bills and a chair I barely used. The bed was just a mattress and a box spring on the floor. Hell, I wouldn’t have even bothered with the box spring if it weren’t for the fact that it was free.
Everything I owned was second-hand and cheap. The only thing I splurged on was brand new locks. Three to be exact. Keeping Aidan out had been the goal. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
The quiet felt uncomfortably suffocating. Harley’s name had followed me home, relentlessly echoing around my skull.
So what if he was back?That shouldn’t have bothered me.
