Was I completely wrong?
Anger bristled to life in my chest, my thoughts like kindling to a fire, making me hotter and hotter with each passing second.
I stilled as I slid on my boots, my angry, hurt gaze flicking to him. “Do you not wanna be with me?” I hadn’t meant for the words to sound so accusatory, but honestly, at the moment, I didn’t really care. I was confused and scared and frustrated.
My emotions were shot to shit, and I had no more patience left in me. None. Not after the rollercoaster of a day I’d had.
He frowned, rocking back at my words. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“You just basically said you don’t want me in your room anymore.”
“I never said that,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Yeah, you did.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You said you’d leave the bed in there so I had somewhere to sleep…” I thought of the car ride. How he’d corrected himself when he’d saidwethen floundered.How he’d basically shut down when I’d asked about telling his family about the baby. “Not to mention, you seemed less than thrilled when I asked you about being involved in the announcement. You acted like you couldn’t care less, especially considering you essentially told me you’d marry me earlier today. So, once again…do you not wanna be with me?”
A part of me knew I was being snarky and a bit petty—okay, maybe a lot petty. But I was scared. Scared that I’d just gotten myself into a situation with a guy who didn’t actually want to be with me.
You know that’s not true.
Maybe he wasn’t in love with me, but Maverick wasn’t the type of person to string me along. Not when he knew first-hand what that was like.
He blew out a breath, pulling his cowboy hat off to run a hand over his short hair before righting it atop his head once more. Guiltshone in his gaze as he said quietly, “Of course, I wanna be with you. I just…sometimes I ain’t no good at findin’ the right words.”
I huffed. “Well, no fuckin’ shit. You proved that last week.” The words were out before I could even think.
He stilled, sadness and hurt blooming in his gaze, flickering to life along the harsh, handsome lines of his face. Shame welled up inside me, so intense and brutal that I thought I might throw up. How could I say something so horrible? So unkind? God, I was terrible. Absolutely terrible.
I cupped a hand over my mouth, a broken gasp tearing from my throat. “I…I’m so sorry. That was horrible of me.”
I expected anger. Ideservedanger. His wrath. His fury. I deserved for him to kick me out. To call things off completely. But instead, he took a step forward and pressed a hand to my cheek, his pained gaze settling on me. What was worse… There in the depths of those light jade eyes was also understanding. “It’s okay. You ain’t gotta apologize, Chey. You’ve been through—”
No. No, there was no way he could possibly be making excuses for me. Sadness, guilt, and anger clawed for dominance in my chest. Sadness that he just took those hurtful words, guilt that I’d even said them in the first place, and unjustified anger because here I was completely out of control emotionally, yet, as always, he held himself together with such ease.
“Goddamn it, Maverick! It’s not okay. You shouldn’t be justifyin’ my actions. That was inconsiderate and horrible of me. I’m upset and I lashed out, but that ain’t okay.”
He shrugged. And that broke my heart. The fact he could so easily brush it off. Like he was used to people lashing out and taking their insults.
“So, tell me why you’re upset,” he said softly, not a hint of anger or judgment lurking in his gaze.
I took a breath, trying to push back the anger that still burned unproportionally bright in me. It’s like my heart hadn’t gotten the same memo my brain had. So, while I understood I was being irrational and bitchy, I couldn’t quell the fire inside me that looked to destroy anything and anyone in its blazing path. “I feel like I’m drowning and my fuckin' life preserver is broken. I feel like it’s just one wave of bullshit poundin' into me after another, and every time I come up to breathe, somethin' else happens. I’m scared and I feel out of control…” My words fell out of my mouth like vomit, my breaths rasping in and out of my chest faster and faster as my voice became more rushed and high-pitched.
Maverick cupped my face, his gaze unreadable as emotion after emotion flickered in the depths, as well as passed over his face. His mouth tugged into a contemplative scowl, not necessarily aimed at me—at least, I hoped—but the situation likely. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, and a moment later he said, “Come with me.”
I frowned. “Where?”
“Just come with me.” His voice held both a pleading and final note to it. He wasn’t going to tell me where we were going, but he also wasn’t going to force me there. This was a choice. My choice.
And while it annoyed the hell out of me that he was being so cryptic, I tossed my hands up into the air and shrugged. “Alright, let’s go.”
He led me out to the truck, whistled for Brandy, and the three of us started off down the road. He’d mentioned riding horses, but I was in no mood for that. Annoyance rippled through me as I said, “I don’t think me ridin’ is the best idea right now, Maverick.”
He stiffened in the seat beside me, but his words were soft, his gaze knowing as he met my harsh stare. “I ain’t gonna have you ride.”
“Then what are you gonna have me do?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Worry and frustration and that damn anger that wouldn’t go away simmered in my soul. This was why I liked being alone. Why I liked to go off when I was annoyed or mad. I knew I had a temper, and sometimes, most times, it was best to just leave me until I’d burnt up all the frustration on my own. Right now, every cryptic response, every unspoken emotion that went across Maverick’s face, set me more and more on edge.
Maverick placed a hand on mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Have a little patience, Chey. Please.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed. “In case it ain’t obvious, I don’t got a lotta that.”
