“Who?”
“Dirtbag Dirk.”
Immediately, my phone vibrates with a notification to switch to video. I click the accept button, and when Maverick’s face fills the screen, he looks furious.
“Why the fuck is that asshole calling you?” he growls. His anger on my behalf is a turn-on. Or maybe it’s him being shirtless, all those muscles and tattoos on display.
“Hmm?” I try to subtly check I’m not drooling, but I’m busted when Maverick raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh. He was just being his usual gross self. Trying to tell me you’d never want me long-term and I should go back to him.”
As I say the words myself, I’m pleasantly surprised at how easily I dismiss them. The truth is, even if Maverick and I don’t last, I would never ever go back to Dirk. Because the man on the other end of the phone line has made me realize I deserve so much better than Dirk ever gave me.
“Specs. Don’t fucking listen to him. Don’t answer his calls. He’s a lying sack of shit who’s a goddamn baby throwing a tantrum because he lost his favourite toy.” Maverick’s words drip with contempt. “What happens between us is none of his fucking business. I swear to God, he does not deserve to even breathe the same air as you. And if he comes near you again, I’m gonna make itso he never can.”
“Easy, tiger,” I say, smiling at his glowering face. “I already told him to get stuffed and blocked his number. I don’t believe a word he said.”
I watch him sag back against the headboard of his hotel room bed.
“Good. Fuck, I wish I’d been there with you when he called.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, and I wish it was my fingers tangling in the strands, not his.
“You can’t fight all my battles,” I say quietly. “But thank you for wanting to.”
“I’m not some knight in shining armor,” he says gruffly.
“I know. But you are a good man.”
He drops his gaze for a second before looking back up at me through the screen. “I want to be. For you.”
It takes a monumental feat of strength not to blurt out that I love him in that moment. But somehow, I resist.
For now.
Chapter thirty-two
Maverick
There’s a reason I prefer traveling overnight when everyone is sleeping. And when Monty sinks down in the seat next to me on the bus, it reinforces why. I want to keep my AirPods in and ignore him, but he’s like a fucking puppy dog sometimes, all smiles and laughs, and no sense of when to let shit go.
“So,” he says expectantly. I smother my sigh of frustration and press pause on my music.
“Yeah?”
“You and Sadie. That’s still a thing?”
He’s grinning and swear to fucking God, if I didn’t know he means no harm, I’d slap the smile off his face.
“Yeah.”
His shoulder shoves into mine. “C’mon, Mav, we’re past the whole single-word-answer shit, aren’t we? We’re buddies now!”
I guess my face says it all because Monty winces. “Okay, maybe not buddies, but…”
Ah, shit, I can’t. I shove him right back, harder. “Shut up and stop pouting,buddy. What do you want to know? I’m not talking about my sex life, just so we’refucking clear.”
Swear to God, his face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. Not that I’ve experienced that myself, but I’ve seen it on TV enough times.
“Really? Okay. Well, she’s awesome, and funny, and nice. And it seems she’s making you more funny and more nice. So, like, that’s cool. Are you guys happy? Is it serious?”
“Slow your goddamn roll there, Monty. He doesn’t have to tell you shit.” Ronan shifts in his seat across the aisle and shakes his head with amusement at our catcher. Guess he thinks the same as me about Monty’s resemblance to a golden retriever. Can’t help but love ’em, even when they drive you nuts.
