Page 3 of You Saw the Best In Me

When Harper was three, my mother died of cancer, and neither of us knew who our fathers were. Leaving the three of us to fend for ourselves, and survive in this cold world.

“Grams is doing okay. She’s still sore from the fall,” she updates, and I rake my fingers through my hair.

“Is she taking the pain medicine the doctor prescribed?” I ask, knowing my grandmother can be stubborn regarding directions.

Grams is prone to falling, especially down the stairs to her garden, and last week, I had to rush her to the emergency room. She has no broken bones, but she’s got severe bruising and can’t get around quickly.

I hate that Harper is the only one around to take care of her, but I’m working hard to be able to pay for a home nurse to check in on her daily.

“Mav?” my sister asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Harper?” I can tell when her voice changes that she has something to say to me.

“I miss you, big brother,” she says, and I start pacing around the room.

I miss her and reserve my Sundays for her, but this week is dragging.

“I know, little sis, I’ll be there Sunday. Text me what you want to cook, and I’ll get everything, okay?” I bargain, which satisfies her.

Cooking together is one of the ways we bond, but also a sneaky way of teaching her how to be independent.

“Alright, Harp, I have to go. Call me tomorrow night. I love you,” I say, starting the prep for my lunch tomorrow.

“Love you too, Mav,” she hangs up, and my apartment is silent again.

I make my lunch for tomorrow, packing it in a cooler bag and tucking it into the fridge.

I crack open a beer, put my feet on the coffee table, and surf the channels until I find something to watch.

My obnoxious neighbor cranks up the music again, rattling the walls and raising my blood pressure.

I could stomp over there, bang on her door, and insist that she turn it down, but the way I stared at her chest earlier was a sign that I should stay away.

I don’t do relationships. I haven’t dated a woman since I was nineteen, and I don’t get close enough to let anyone in. I have enough on my plate with my sister and Grams; another person to care for would be disastrous.

I turn my TV volume higher, attempting to drown out the music, which only helps a little.

Unfortunately, I’ve only come to one conclusion: I need to make this right with Karina and fast — I can’t live like this.

I wake up to my alarm, signaling the start of another day. I dress in cargo shorts and a company t-shirt, Avery Jones Bros. plastered across the back, and lace up my work boots.

I started this construction gig a few months ago, and it’s going well. The pay is good, and the bosses let us leave early sometimes.

The guys on site still call me new kid which doesn’t bother me. Everyone else has silly nicknames, and I keep to myself, not giving anyone a chance to know my actual name.

I don’t do friendships; I don’t have the time to get to know someone, and I certainly don’t have the effort to go out, drink and socialize.

I grab my lunch, extra clothes and head out the door.

Lucky for me, my irritating neighbor is walking down the stairs as I lock the door behind me.

“Are you stalking me, Maverick?” she teases, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder.

“I’m going to work,” I grumble, uninterested in morning chit-chat.

Karina is wearing shorts that are way too small, highlighting her ass, and I do everything I can to look away. I may lose my mind if she’s in a teeny tank top again.

This woman is gorgeous, and her curves are tempting, but then I remember how much she pisses me off, and the attraction fades.