Looking at my brother, I say the words I’ve never told anyone but Sadie.
“Eli, I need your help.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Sadie
The best thing about renting a furnished apartment is that there’s not much to pack up when you leave. It didn’t take me long to decide sleeping on Ali’s couch or even sharing her bed would be better than staying here. Thank God for month-to-month lease agreements. I don’t even care that I have to pay for the next thirty days, I want out of this crappy place. All I see when I look around is sadness.
My sadness from before Maverick and my sadness now, after him. Missing the man I fell in love with, the man who, somehow, without me even realizing it, helped me become a better, more authentic version of myself.
I’ve realized he was right. I was hiding from my own discontent by putting all of my energy into him and our relationship. First, by wanting to make sure our ruse did what it needed to do, which was selling him as a changed man and helping him establish a new image. Then, in wanting to see what was growing between us and whether it could be something real.
For weeks, I convinced myself that I was fine. That I was over Dirk and the hurtful things he said, and that I was happy withwho I was. But Maverick was the one to show me how much more I could be. How free I could feel if I let myself be open to showing the world my true self instead of just the pieces of me I thought everyone wanted. It was more than just wearing a bold dress or choosing something new to eat or drink.
It was about discovering what I want in life, instead of always going along with what I thought was expected of me. He showed me that, in ways I don’t even fully understand.
And in the week since I last saw him, I’ve tried desperately to hold onto that. I’m doing things I never would have done before, like eating dinner alone at a restaurant I’d always wanted to try. And buying a new green blouse that is so different from anything in my closet. Of course, it wasn’t lost on me that the restaurant was one Maverick had talked about, and the blouse was one I knew he would love. He’s still in my heart and my mind. I still love him.
I fold a shirt into my suitcase, then stand to get another armful of clothes from my closet when a knock at the door makes me pause. It can’t be Ali, she’s at work for the day. And my parents don’t know exactly where I’m living. It was easier that way rather than dealing with their worries over me living in such an unsavoury neighbourhood.
When I open the door, my heart leaps out of my chest and into his. At least that’s what it feels like when I greedily drink in the sight of Maverick. He’s wearing jeans that are molded to his perfect butt and strong legs, and a gray T-shirt that hugs those biceps that can hold me so tightly. It’s hard not to fling myself into his arms, followingmy heart.
“Hey, Specs.” His voice sounds gravelly and raw with unfiltered emotion. His expression is drawn, and the dark circles under his eyes mirror my own. There’s still some faint bruising on one cheekbone from his altercation with Eli, and it’s a forceful reminder of the day everything fell apart.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, trying desperately to suppress the flare of hope filling my body.
“Can I come in to talk?” he says by way of answer, and I step aside to let him in. He walks in ahead of me, so I don’t see his reaction to the few boxes in the living room or the open suitcase that is visible through my bedroom door. We go to the lumpy couch and sit, him at one end and me at the other. I fold my hands in my lap, trying to outwardly project a calm I’m most definitely not feeling.
For the first time, the silence between us is awkward. I’m waiting for him to start, seeing as I don’t want to even think of why he might be here, for fear of letting that flare of hope turn into a flame that could burn me.
“Jesus. I had what I’d say all planned out. And now that I’m here, I can’t stop staring at you.”
My gaze bounces up from my lap to his face. Just as he said, his blue eyes are boring into me. It hurts to look at him and not be able to reach out and touch him as I have a thousand times over the last few weeks.
“Are you moving?” he asks the obvious question, finally breaking the silence again.
I nod. “Into Ali’s place for now. Being alone is…hard.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “Yeah. It is.” Another second of silence, and then his head drops forwardto hang down, his elbows resting on his knees. “I have to start with saying I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not anywhere near enough, but it’s the only place to begin.” He lifts his head, and his eyes are so filled with pain it makes it hard for me to breathe.
“I pushed you away before you could leave me. That’s the short version of how fucked-up I am. My entire life, I’ve kept everyone away, never letting anyone get close, simply so they couldn’t hurt me later on by leaving. But I couldn’t keep you away. I couldn’t stop you from getting under my skin and into my broken black heart, no matter how hard I tried. And I guess at some point, I stopped trying. I let you in, and it felt good. Being with you, having you by my side, it felt good and right and easy.”
He pauses, a sad smile lifting the corners of his lips. I want to trace the curve with my fingers, but again, I resist.
“And then it started to feel scary as hell. Because letting you in meant revealing my flaws. And I worried that when you saw them, you’d realize the truth that I was nowhere close to good enough for you. I’m a guy who had an abusive dad and a mom who died of cancer when I was a baby. I’m a guy who grew up bouncing around foster homes. I’m a guy who barely graduated from high school, has zero education, and only knows how to do one thing, play baseball. I gave my foster brother money, over and over, knowing it would probably be used to buy drugs, simply because I felt so guilty over leaving him in foster care when I aged out. I drove in an illegal street race and crashed a car because that same brother got caught up in a mess he couldn’t get out of. I pick fights with assholes at bars. I don’t have any friends except for the old guy who lives across the hall from meand a cat. I hate being around people, don’t do small talk, and have never been in a relationship. There’s nothing about me that makes me worthy of a woman like you, and I hurt you in an attempt to keep you from realizing that.”
A lone tear spills from his eye, tracking slowly down his face, and I can’t hold back any longer. My hand lifts to cup his cheek, my thumb wiping away the moisture. I shift closer to him as he turns his cheek into my hand, his eyes closing as he draws in a ragged breath.
“You’re looking at everything all wrong,” I murmur, my heart aching for this man who can’t see how everything he thinks of as a flaw is actually a beautiful piece of what makes him so strong.
“You’re a man who overcame a terrible childhood to become an incredible athlete who is admired by thousands. A man who is respected and valued by his teammates. You’re a man who is so dedicated to his career, you’d do anything for it. And you’re a man who defends those who can’t defend themselves. Who gives everything he has to those he cares about, and has no clue just how big his heart really is. It’s not broken and black. It’s wounded and scared, but also capable of so much.”
Tears are streaming down my face now. Maverick has lifted his head out of my hand to stare at me with an expression of innocent hope and wonder, like the little boy he once was can’t believe the man he is today could be all I say.
“Eli came to see me a few days ago,” he starts again, but his voice is stronger this time. “After you and he talked, he went and found a counselor who got him on the wait list for rehab. He said you were the one to make him finally realize he needed help.”
My smile breaks free. I’m so happy to hear Eli took that step.
