When two shot glasses were set in front of me, I glanced up.A little surprised, a little starstruck.The entire room faded away, and the hum of conversation blurred. The weight of expectation, of legacy, of grief dimmed beneath the simple fact that he was standing in front of me.
Out of all the places I expected to find Maverick, tending bar wasn’t it. He filled both with a clear liquor and handed me one.
“To Christopher Lowell,” he said, clinking his shot glass gently to mine, “may the poor bastard rest in peace.”
“Here’s hoping,” I muttered and threw back the shot. The sting was welcome, and I cleared my throat.
For a long moment, we just stared at one another. My gaze tracked the little changes in him. He looked older in a way that had nothing to do with the years. His dark hair was longer, wild and brushing against his shoulders, and his beard had grown thick. His shoulders were broader, and his chest was solid beneath a black t-shirt stretched taut over muscles I didn’t quite remember being so defined.
He looked sinfully good in a way that made my chest tighten and stole the breath right out of my lungs.
There was something contained about him—something that hadn’t been there before. It was in the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw ticked. It was the cold edge in those stormy eyes.
And still, beneath it all, it was him. The boy who had once kept a seashell just because I couldn’t bring it home.The boy who had asked me to stay in Wilde Bay with him.
“Hey, princess,” Maverick whispered with a slow smile that would’ve taken me out by the knees if I’d been standing. And like it always had before, the affectionate term made me blush.
CHAPTER 18
maverick
For all my convoluted bullshit and confusion, all it took was one look from Harley to obliterate any resolve I had to avoid him. One look and every angry speech I’d rehearsed over the years went up in smoke. It didn’t matter that he’d left. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t talked in five years. All that mattered was that he was here and that I could visibly see the heartache on his pretty face. It was written all over him—the tightness around his eyes, the slope of his shoulders, the frown that seemed stuck onhis lips. I wanted nothing more than to fix it or at least make him feel better.
How fucked up was I?
He was the one who’d walked away. He was the one who’d chosen obligation over me. I’d spent years telling myself I didn’t need nor want Harley—that I deserved better than that.
And yet, the second I saw the sadness on his face, every instinct told me to be there. To help him. To fix the problem.
I couldn’t resist him. I didn’t want to, and I didn’t plan to.
He looked good—damn good—like he hadn’t changed in five years. Not really, anyway. His soft edges were refined and chiselled a little more, but he still clung to that fancy, rich boy look with his side-swept blond hair and clean-shaven face. It was impossible not to notice his lean muscles beneath the tailored suit he wore. He looked polished and untouchable.
But I knew that underneath his flawless surface was the boy who cracked from the pressure of the demands of his life.
And the blush that crept over that pretty face of his when I called him princess?Fucking perfection.
“Hi,” Harley let out softly.
“I hear you’ve been asking around about me,” I said, cutting right to the chase as I refilled his shot glass. Jake ran a tight ship when it came to how much I could drink with the patrons in one shift, so I didn’t bother joining in for another round.
“Uh…” He let out an awkward chuckle.Yeah, still awkward and adorable.“Yeah. I guess I was just curious… how you were.”
I watched him toss back the shot and immediately gesture for another.
“They have these things called phones, you know.”Was it a necessary comment?No, but I was real damn curious about how he’d respond.
“I couldn’t.” Harley shook his head. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just couldn’t.”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded slowly. I could’ve fought him on the issue—pressed him for an honest answer—but I didn’t have it in me. I fought Aidan enough to last a lifetime. So, I changed the subject. “I’m sorry about your father.”
“I don’t know what to say when people say that,” he said, the words falling out of him quickly. “I know I’m supposed to say thank you, but it feels weird to say thank you for that. I don’t know the proper etiquette. It just… makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry.”Noted.“Can I ask what happened?”
“Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you he had a heart attack,” Harley replied quietly. “What they don’t know is that he killed himself.”
“Shit,” I breathed out.I wasn’t expecting that.“I’m sorry, Harley.”
