Say You're Mine

by Alexis Winter

  Scarlett

  I was wrong. Ryan could not handle a half-hour. But I’ll never admit that to Maverick.

  When I got back after picking up Maverick from Amy’s, I came home to the kitchen counter—and Grant’s face—covered in chocolate. And Ryan was sound asleep on the couch.

  That was a week ago. Since then, he’s almost dropped Grant on his head while playing, left a sharp knife next to him on the kitchen counter, and about 10 minutes ago tried to feed my highly-allergic-to-peanuts son a Reese’s Cup.

  “I didn’t know, Scarlett! Shit, cut me some slack,” he says as I make sure Grant is okay. He didn’t take a bite, thank God, but it scared me to death when I saw him holding it.

  “Yes, you did, Ryan. I told you last week; you just didn’t listen.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I must have forgotten. You know I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

  I know that. And I get it. Ryan has been here seven days. It’s the longest he’s stayed around, and I’m almost at the point where I think this might have a chance of sticking. It’s not easy jumping into being a father. I could condemn him for missing out on the first three years of Grant’s life, but instead I’m trying to focus on the positive: that he’s here now.

  Since Ryan’s return, I haven’t seen Maverick. He’s gone in the morning when I leave for work, and not back yet when I come home from school.

  I’m sure that isn’t a coincidence. I know that Maverick isn’t Ryan’s biggest fan. But it’s not his decision. It’s mine. And I’m choosing to allow my son’s father to have a chance to be in his life.

  And mine.

  “Hey, babe, can I borrow a few bucks? I’m supposed to be meeting some people tonight,” Ryan asks, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

  “You’re going out? I asked you to watch Grant. I have a study group in the city tonight.”

  “Oh fuck, was that tonight?”

  “Yes, that was tonight. And it’s at the library, so I can’t bring him. You promised me you could watch him.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. I forgot. But I can’t get out of this.”

  I sigh, wondering what could be so important.

  “What exactly is it? Come to think of it, Ryan, I don’t even know where you’re officially staying. Or are you just using me to crash here every night? Do you even have a job? And who are these people you’re meeting up with?”

  “I’m working on the job part—that’s why I have to go out tonight. A buddy knows a guy who can get me some work.”

  Geez, Ryan, could you be any more vague?

  “What am I supposed to do with Grant? If you’d let me know earlier, I could’ve gotten a sitter. You can’t do this, Ryan. If you say you’re going to be here, then we’re counting on you. That’s how this works.”

  He leans in for a kiss, which I reluctantly accept.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I promise it won’t happen again. I gotta go.” He kisses my cheek and is up the stairs in a flash, but not before grabbing $50 from my purse.

  And there goes part of this week’s grocery money.

  I honestly shouldn’t be surprised about this. But Ryan has been really great, or at least he’s been trying his best this past week. I was hoping we’d turned a corner. I guess we’re not as far along as I’d hoped.

  I sigh and grab my phone, hoping that Tori is free tonight.

  Me: Hey. I know this is last-minute, but can you watch Grant tonight? I have a study group.

  As I wait for Tori to respond, I hear the garage door open and shut, which means Maverick is home. I’d normally ask him, but things have been so tense with us this week that I can’t bring myself to do it.

  Tori: I thought Asswipe was watching him? Did he flake out already? If so, when exactly? Because I had “five days” in the pool.

  I really don’t know if she’s serious about people taking bets on Ryan, but I don’t have time to find out.

  Me: Can you or not?

  Tori: Geez, chill, sister. I wish I could, but I can’t. Annabelle asked me to come help set up for one of her classes tonight. I’m sorry!

  Me: It’s okay. Thanks anyway.

  Tori: So, when did Asswipe ghost? Because if it happened today, Jaxson wins.

  I toss my phone on the couch, not even bothering to respond. I suppose I could take Grant to the library this once. He’d keep himself occupied for the most part. Maybe I could ask Maverick if he wouldn’t mind if we took the iPad. That would help a ton.

  “All right, buddy. Let’s get ready to go to the city.”

  We gather toys and books for him, plus snacks and my schoolbooks, before bundling up and heading upstairs. Fall is upon us in Illinois, and it’s getting downright cold at night.

  “Mavwick!” Grant sprints toward him, jumping into his arms, which luckily, Maverick was ready for. Since we’ve been avoiding each other all week, whether intentional or not, Grant hasn’t seen him, which sucks, because my kid loves him.

  “Hey buddy! I haven’t seen you in forever!” he says while swinging him around, which makes my boy laugh straight from his belly.

  He puts him down but makes sure he’s not too dizzy before letting go. I’m pretty sure if that had been Ryan, he would’ve let his son fall on his butt.

  “Where you off to?” Maverick asks, though he isn’t looking at me.

  “I have a study group in the city, so we have to get going.”

  “You’re taking Grant?” he asks, finally making eye contact with me. It’s right then that I realize how much I’ve missed him. Seeing Maverick every day had become a normal part of my routine, and I’ve missed the time we got to spend together. Even if it was just a few minutes a day.

  “Yeah. Ry . . . I don’t have a sitter.”

  By the look I’m giving him, I’m pretty sure he gets what I’m not saying. Thank goodness he doesn’t make me say it out loud.

  “I can watch him, Scarlett.”

  “No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I volunteered. You go get your study on. The men here will play trucks.”

  “Fucks!” Grant yells, which makes both of us chuckle.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he says, leading me to the door. “My mom is going to stop over with dinner, so I’d already planned on staying in tonight. I’ll fix him something to eat, and that way you can study as long as you need to and not worry about getting home early for him.”

  “Thank you, Maverick. And I’m sorry. For . . . well . . .”

  He brings me into a hug, and for the first time in a week, I feel like we’re okay. That I’m okay.

  “We’ll talk about it later. Now, you go get smarter. Us men have a big night ahead of us.”

  “Fucks!”

  14

  Maverick

  “Oh my gosh, is he finally going to go to sleep?” my mother asks in a loud whisper.

  “He would’ve an hour ago if you hadn’t given him ice cream. Which you insisted on, so this is really your fault.”

  When my mom arrived and saw Grant and me playing trucks in the living room, I swear I saw visions of grandkids floating above her head. Thankfully, she’s never really pressured Kalum or me to settle down and have kids. She realized we had our own shit to figure out first before we could even think about starting a family—but apparently, the sight of me hanging out with a toddler was enough for Shannon West to start trying out grandma names.

  She’s asked Grant to call her “Mammaw.” She says she’s just giving it a test drive. I could only roll my eyes at her request.

  “He asked for ice cream, and he’s the cutest kid I’ve seen since you, so of course I’m going to give him ice cream!”

  “Well, you got the spoiling part of being a grandma down,” I say as I pick up the empty bowls and take them to the kitchen.

  It looks like Grant’s about to crash. He’s watching Cars on the couch and is fighting back sleep. I give him 10 minutes.

 
“How is the living arrangement with Scarlett going?” my mom asks, rinsing the bowls before putting them in the dishwasher.

  “It was going well. This week has been . . .” I trail off because I don’t know how to explain this past week. Strained? Tense? Absent? All of the above?

  The fact that I can’t put things into words is all my mom needs to hear. She pours us two cups of coffee and we sit around the island so I can keep an eye on Grant, who, as I suspected, is now out cold.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  I tell her about how things had been going well—that even though she was living downstairs, our lives were meshing well. I tell her about our nights spent up here—the three of us hanging out, and how we’d shared a few meals together. I even confess my Pinterest research to cook her dinner.

  I leave out the part that I was about 10 seconds away from kissing her when Ryan showed up.

  I rant for a good 30 minutes about Ryan. I’ve hated that I haven’t seen Scarlett or Grant since he decided to spring back into their lives, but I can’t be in the same room with him. There’s something familiar about him I can’t put my finger on, but I know it’s not a good feeling. I actually called Amanda, our friend who works in the Chicago PD gang unit, and asked her to do some research for me. Growing up where I did, you get a pretty good sense of good and bad people from the get-go. Ryan’s definitely not good.

  When I’m done, my mom doesn’t say a word, but she has a smile on her face that kind of scares me.

  “What?”

  “You’re falling for her.”

  “I’m what? No. You’ve got it wrong. I’m not falling for Scarlett.”

  “Then why are you so defensive?”

  “I’m not defensive.” I get up and walk to the refrigerator, not needing anything but not wanting to face this firing squad of one.

  “You are, Maverick. And I get it. You’re scared. You haven’t been serious with anyone since that skank left you, and you aren’t sure how to process it all.”

  “You’ve been hanging out with Tori too much.”

  “Tori’s just made me realize that I need to say what I think. And Jenna was a skank. And a bitch. But don’t try to change the subject.”

  I take my seat again, because I’m obviously not getting out of this conversation.

  “Mav, you’ve always been my smart boy. Practical. Everything always had to have an answer,” she says, taking my hands in hers the way only a mother can. “Scarlett doesn’t fit into one of your boxes. And that scares you.”

  She’s only partially right, and it’s something I’ve realized over the past week. Scarlett does fit into a box. She fits into this one. This house. She’s slowly helped me make it a home. Just her presence—not to mention Grant’s—has breathed life into this place in a way these walls have never before seen.

  How well she’s fit in here is what scares me.

  “What part has you so angry about Grant’s father?” she asks.

  How much time does she have?

  “He . . . God, where do I begin?” I say, now pacing around because I can’t stand still. “For one, I swear I know him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it. And Grant doesn’t even know who he is. I know he’s only three, but he’s smart. Really fucking smart. And that asshole gets to waltz back into their lives whenever he fucking feels like it and put on the dad and boyfriend cap. How could someone not want to be around those two all the time? They’re amazing and any man would be lucky to have them as his family.”

  I’m on a roll now, and I’m not going to lie, this feels really fucking good to let out.

  “And Scarlett! She just lets him do this! She wants him to be a dad more than I think he does. He’s using her. I can see it plain as day, but God forbid I say something to her! She’ll make some sort of damn excuse about him being Grant’s dad and blah, blah, blah. But he won’t stick around. Hell, he was supposed to watch Grant tonight but he fucking bailed. How could she want to be with a guy like that?”

  That smile my mom had earlier is back, and again, I’m wondering what I missed.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Are you more upset that Scarlett is letting him back into Grant’s life, or hers?”

  I wasn’t expecting that, and I’m not sure how to answer it.

  “If he were a good guy, I would have no problem with it. Every child should know his father. But Mom, I swear, something is off about this guy. And I know he’s going to leave and break her heart again.”

  The sound of the garage door opening means Scarlett is home, which means that, thank Christ, this conversation is over.

  “This is all I’m going to say, and I want you to think about it long and hard,” Mom says. “You’re allowed to have feelings for her and her boy. But make sure they come from a place of love—not just because you don’t like Ryan. There’s a little guy involved who worships the ground you walk on, and that girl needs someone reliable. Actions speak louder than words, Mav. Remember that.”

  15

  Scarlett

  I don’t know if $50 was enough to get out of town on, but Ryan is gone again. I should tell Tori that Jaxson won the bet, but I don’t want to admit to everyone that I was wrong.

  Again. Like always.

  He’s texted a few times saying he wasn’t going to be around for a few days—that he “had things he needed to take care of,” and that he wasn’t disappearing again. He promised he would see us this weekend and that we’d have a family day at the park.

  I’m not holding my breath.

  It’s actually been good that he’s been away, because I was falling way behind at school. Not so far that I was about to flunk out, but I definitely didn’t feel as prepared as I had been before his unexpected arrival.

  Even though Maverick helped and watched Grant the other night, I still haven’t been upstairs a lot. Staying in the suite helps me focus on studying, which is what I need to do right now. It’s why I’m here in the first place. Grant goes up once a day, because I swear that kid needs a Maverick fix. And I must admit, I can’t blame him.

  I wish I were at a place in my life where I could get a Maverick fix. I swear the man gets better-looking by the day, and I would put money on the fact that he’s been working out more. I think his arms have grown two sizes since I moved in.

  Knock, knock.

  Speak of the devil. Or at least I assume so, since no one else knocks on the door of the basement suite but him.

  “Come in.”

  Maverick comes down and I have to stop myself from drooling. It should be illegal for him to wear fitted T-shirts. And how does someone make basketball shorts sexy?

  “Hey,” I say, not really knowing what else to say. Since Ryan’s reappearance, things with Maverick have been strained to say the least.

  “Hey. Where’s Grant?”

  “Taking a nap. Thank goodness. The kid had been bouncing off the walls and I needed to get some studying done.”

  He takes a seat next to me on the couch. “I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

  “Because we haven’t.” No sense in beating around the bush.

  “I’m sorry, Scarlett.”

  “For what? Insulting me? Insulting Grant’s father? Being an overall ass?”

  He puts his elbows on his knees and takes a few deep breaths. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s trying to contain his temper. He did it a few times when Ryan first arrived.

  “I’m sorry for losing my cool. And I’m sorry for insulting you. You are an amazing mother. Anything I said about you I did out of anger, and that was wrong of me. But Scarlett, I won’t apologize for how I treated Ryan . . . and I need to tell you something about him that you probably aren’t going to like.”

  Now it’s my turn to try to reel it in. “What now, Maverick? What could you possibly know about him that I don’t?”

  “I had a bad feeling about him, so I asked Amanda to take a look at him.”

  “Y
ou did what?” How dare he. What gives him the right to do a background check on the father of my child? I mean, I know he was in prison. But guess what? So was Maverick.

  “If you’re about to drop the bomb on me that he’s done time, that’s not news, Maverick. I know about the stint he did around the time Grant was born. So sorry to burst your bubble.”

  “It’s not that, Scarlett. Well, it is, but it’s more.”

  “What, Maverick? Please, tell me. I’m dying to know what you and Amanda think he’s into now.”

  “He’s involved with The Kings.”

  That I was not expecting. But that also couldn’t be possible. Ryan might not run around with the best people, but he’s not a gangster.

  “You’re telling me that the father of my child is now in one of Chicago’s biggest gangs? The one that just a few months ago, you and your brother went undercover to take down? How is that even real? And didn’t they all go to jail after that?”

  “Most of them did. But not all. A few of their higher-up guys weren’t involved in the car theft ring. They were too busy running drugs. When the cops busted them, they could only get the guys who had been assigned to the chop shop. So not all of them went to jail. Amanda says Ryan is a middleman for them. He makes deliveries and he picks up product. Scarlett, he’s running with bad people.”

  “This makes no sense,” I say, pacing a bit as I try to wrap my mind around what Maverick just said. “Yes, Ryan was in jail on a drug charge, so that part could make sense. But running with a gang? Being a middleman? He’s never been involved with that kind of stuff. No. She has to be wrong.”

  “How do you know, Scarlett? You admit you don’t know where he is half the time. How do you know he hasn’t been running with a gang this entire time?”

  “Because I know him, all right?” I know I need to keep my voice down, but I can’t help it. “Ryan has his flaws. We all do. But why would he come back here if he were running for a gang? He would never put us in danger like that.”

  “Because he doesn’t give a shit about you two!” Maverick yells, and I’m pretty sure we’re about to wake up Grant. “He comes and goes when he pleases, Scarlett. He uses you, and he pretends to take an interest in Grant to do it.”