“How dare you! You don’t know what goes on between us!”
“I know enough. And while you’re staying under my roof, he is forbidden to come here.”
What did he just say? Is he really playing the “it’s my house” card?
“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t have in my life. Especially when that someone is my child’s father.”
This apparently hits a nerve, because Maverick’s face is growing redder by the second.
“If he were any sort of father, he’d be around long enough for Grant to be able to put a face with a name.”
I start to talk, but he starts again.
“Secondly, I’m not telling you who you can and can’t see. But he is not allowed in this house. You want to go off and see him? I can’t stop you. But please, before you put your lives in danger, think about what I just said. Call Amanda. She’ll tell you everything she knows. Just please, I’m begging you, be careful. If not for your sake, then for Grant’s.”
He walks back upstairs as Grant comes walking sleepily out of the bedroom. I scoop him up into my lap and snuggle him as Maverick’s words run through my brain.
My head wants to believe it. It’s screaming at me to listen to Maverick. But my heart is saying something completely different—that Ryan came back and made an honest-to-God effort this time. Well, for a few days anyway. But no matter what, he wouldn’t put us in danger like that.
Would he?
16
Maverick
Actions speak louder than words.
You’re falling for her.
Ever since I talked with my mom about Scarlett, those have been the words stuck in my brain.
I think deep down I knew it. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. I think I realized it the night I stormed off and went to Amy’s. Just being with her that night felt wrong, but I didn’t know why. Then when Scarlett came and picked me up, it wasn’t just shame rolling through me. It was embarrassment.
I knew right then that I was feeling something more for Scarlett than friendship. It just took my mom to make me realize its strength.
As for the actions? Well, those are pretty easy to notice, especially when a certain wannabe gangbanger has been MIA.
It’s been two weeks since I told Scarlett about Ryan’s involvement with The Kings, and since then, I haven’t heard a peep about him. Granted, that would assume Scarlett’s speaking to me. Which she’s not. She’s also not speaking to Tori or Annabelle.
I know why. She doesn’t want to hear “I told you so” about Ryan. And I don’t blame her one bit. I probably wouldn’t either.
“She’s being an idiot,” Tori says as I hand her a box from my mom’s attic. My mom has a slight obsession with fall and is insistent on making her house a fucking cider mill every year. Which means Kalum and I have to get all of her decorations from the attic. We don’t dare complain or we’d face the consequence of having to hear about how many jobs she worked while we were growing up, or how many hours she spent in labor with us.
It’s much less painful to just get the damn boxes.
“It didn’t help that you told her about the block pool,” Kalum adds.
“Well, I wanted to know if I’d won!” Tori says as she starts untangling a string of fake leaves. “I mean, I’d claimed the day before, so it was very important.”
“Not everything is a competition, gorgeous,” Kalum says, placing a kiss on her cheek before heading outside to put up the scarecrow.
I don’t say anything for a few minutes, because I’m honestly not sure what I want to ask Tori. She knows her sister better than anyone, but if she figures out that I’m falling for her, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about over there, Mav, but you’re making my brain hurt just looking at you.”
Apparently, Tori is going to start this conversation for me. So I ask something that won’t give me away.
“Why does your sister keep going back to him?”
It’s a safe enough question and one I’ve been trying to understand since he showed up at my door. Because for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.
“If you’re asking me if she’s told me anything specific, then the answer is not really. Your guess is as good as mine. I know what I think, but again, this is only a guess.”
She puts down the leaves and sits in front of me.
“My parents are literally the two most perfect people in the world. They both worked, raised two daughters, rarely fought, and my dad still snuck in kisses with my mom when they thought we weren’t looking. Scarlett has always wanted that. The family. The man who will love her until she’s old and gray. But she has the shittiest taste in men I’ve ever seen, and I’m putting myself into that category before your brother worked his magic on me. I don’t know if she ever thought that her forever guy could be Ryan, but once she had Grant, she wanted that life with him. She wanted the family.”
That makes sense, but can’t she see that he will never give her that?
“Is she so focused on that idyllic life that she can’t see that he’s never going to be that for her? She does realize she can be happy without him, right?”
Tori nods. “I think so. Again, I’ve never confirmed this with her. This is just a sister’s intuition, so I could be completely off-base. But I would do anything for a guy to sweep her off her feet so she could see that there are other men in the world besides Asswipe—and that someone else could give her what she truly needs.”
Tori goes back to messing with the six feet of fake leaves as I finish getting the rest of the boxes. If her theory is correct, then I can understand Scarlett wanting to give him every chance in the world. But he’ll never change. Even if he’s not involved with The Kings, which I know for a fucking fact he is, he’s not the type of man who will step up and be the man Scarlett needs.
But I can.
Actions speak louder than words.
She wants the family? I can give it to her. I can make her see that she doesn’t have to be with Asswipe to have a family.
I just need to show her.
And just like that, I have an idea.
“Hey, Tori? Do you have plans later?”
“Nope. What do you have in mind?”
“Call your sister. Ask her to come out for a girls’ night. Get Annabelle on board. Tell her I’ll watch Grant.”
Tori gives me a confused look before realization comes over her.
“You better know what you’re doing, Maverick, or else I’ll beat your ass.”
I don’t. Well, not really. And I have no doubt she would.
But I know I need to start showing her that there is hope outside of one man. And that’s going to start tonight.
17
Scarlett
“When did we get so old?”
“Is that even a shirt?”
“I can see her ass!”
“How is it only 11 o’clock?”
Going out for a girls’ night sounded like a great idea when Tori called, especially when she told me that Maverick had already volunteered to watch Grant. It had been forever since the three of us had gotten all prettied up and went out without the guys, plus I’d had a stressful week with school. Blowing off a little steam sounded like the perfect idea.
But we’ve been at this club for less than two hours and we’re already over it. Because somewhere in the last two years, we got old.
Our feet hurt. The drinks are watered down. It’s hot. And we have to yell to talk to each other. How was this ever fun?
“Why are we here again?” I ask. It’s half a real question and half hypothetical.
“Because we’re three beautiful women in our 20s who are living their best lives?” Annabelle says, although I don’t know if she really believes it.
“If we were living our best lives, we’d be at home in sweats with pizza. How about we blow this joint and go get a slice?” Tori says.
If there’s anything the t
hree of us agree on, it’s our love of pizza. No one puts up a fight as we elbow our way out of the club in search of the nearest pizza place, which we find around the corner.
“Is it super lame that we left a club after two drinks and didn’t dance once?” Annabelle asks, sipping on her Coke.
“If that’s lame, then crown me the Queen of Lameness,” Tori says. “I just want to eat pizza, catch up with you two, then go home and fuck my fiancé.”
Her bluntness catches the waiter off-guard, and he almost spills our pizza on us.
“Are you ever going to learn to keep your voice down?” I ask, scooping up a slice.
“Are you ever going to realize that Asswipe is a deadbeat? Oh, and are you going to apologize to us for being a ghost these past few weeks?”
“Here we go,” Annabelle says, knowing how this conversation is about to go. At least she has pizza, because she’s been a part of this argument one too many times.
“I’m sorry for not being around much. I had a lot going on. But why can’t you just accept the fact that he’s Grant’s father and he’s going to be a part of his life?”
“I’ll acknowledge it when he sticks around for more than a week at a time.”
I want to argue with her. Make 10 million excuses for him. But I can’t. Not anymore.
I talked with Amanda the other day, and she confirmed everything Maverick said. I tried to call Ryan and ask him about it, but it keeps going straight to voicemail, and my texts are undelivered.
I have so many questions for him. Why would he get involved with The Kings? Why would he come around, only to disappear again? Why would he choose that life?
Why am I not enough for him? Why wouldn’t he want to stick around? Why doesn’t he want to be with Grant and me? Are we not good enough?
Why am I never good enough?
But I can’t say any of this to Tori, or to anyone really. Those thoughts are only for me to think about—mostly when I’m lying in bed alone each night.
“Can we please not get into this?” I ask, begging her to drop it.
“Fine. But only if you’ll admit that you sneak peeks of Maverick in the shower.”
I throw a napkin at her, because my sister is certifiably insane.
“I do not do any such thing!”
“He is pretty good-looking, Scar,” Annabelle says, realizing it’s safe to enter back into the conversation. “I don’t know how you live with him and keep your hands to yourself.”
“Because he’s Maverick. And he’s my friend. That’s how.”
My words come out strong, but inside I don’t know how sure I am of that. Slowly but surely, we’re getting back to our normal. I haven’t been hiding downstairs as much, and he hasn’t made any digs about Ryan lately. I’m back to helping out with the groceries, and this is not the first time he’s helped watch Grant.
We haven’t officially apologized to each other for everything we said, and maybe one day we will. But for now, we’re getting back to us. And I like that. A lot.
Luckily, Annabelle shifts the conversation from Maverick and me to Tori’s upcoming wedding, and we’re told we’ll be wearing champagne-colored dresses and that we, and I quote, “better not be better-looking than her.”
She’s only half-kidding.
After we devour the pizza, we each go our separate ways. As I take a car back to the suburbs, I hate that Tori’s words have made me think of Maverick as more than a friend. For about the thousandth time.
What would it feel like to be the woman Maverick wants in his life? The one he would actually want to invite into his house to make it a home?
I don’t know who that Jenna woman was who broke his heart—yes, I finally figured out her name—but I really want to meet her one day just to ask her how in the hell she would give up such an amazing man. I know if he were interested in me, I’d hold on and never let go. A woman would be stupid to let go of a smart, successful man who looks like he could be on the cover of a romance novel.
But I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve never gotten the feeling that he’s interested in me, which doesn’t shock me. I’m nothing special. I’m a 23-year-old single mother who can’t even keep an apparent drug dealer around. Why would someone like Maverick want me?
I try to snap out of my Debbie Downer thoughts when I get home. The only light that’s on upstairs is the one above the kitchen island, and there’s no sign of Maverick or my son.
I head downstairs and I don’t know what I expected to find, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. And I can’t help but stand and stare at it, fighting back a wave of emotions.
Grant, in his favorite Buzz Lightyear pajamas, is sleeping on Maverick’s bare chest. Maverick has his arm around Grant’s legs—even in his sleep protecting a child who he loves like his own, even though he’s not.
They look so peaceful that I decide not to wake them up. Instead, I cover them with a blanket and place kisses on both of their foreheads.
And then I sneak off to my room where I proceed to allow my ovaries to explode.
18
Maverick
When I was kid, I always wondered what it would be like to go to work with my dad. Then again, in my imagination, my dad worked at an office downtown. He carried a suitcase and wore a tie every day, ready to make important decisions for his company.
In reality, my dad was a drug user and dealer who was dead before I even knew what work was.
So when Scarlett told me that she was going to have to call off work and skip school because the daycare was closed today, I immediately came up with the idea of having Grant accompany me to work. The kid loves cars, and if he gets bored, I’ll set him up with the iPad. Easy enough.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I’m going to be gone all day,” Scarlett says as she puts extra Pull-Ups in his bag.
“Yes, Scarlett. I have it under control. You know I have watched him before.”
“Yes, but not all day. I feel bad. You don’t have to.”
“Scarlett, we’ve been over this. You aren’t missing work or school when I’m more than capable of helping you out.”
She takes a deep breath, realizing she’s not winning this battle.
“Okay. But if you need me—”
“I’ll call you immediately.”
“Remember he’s al—”
“Allergic to all things peanut and possibly shellfish. Anything else?”
She takes a deep breath, giving me a look mixed with so many emotions I can’t identify all of them. Before I know it, she’s wrapped me in a hug that I’m enjoying a little too much.
“You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you.”
I give her a squeeze and move away from her before she can feel just how much I liked it. I grab Grant’s bag and hoist him up onto the island so I can finish getting him into his shoes.
“You just worry about work and school. I know you have that test coming up that you’ve been stressing about. Don’t worry about us. The guys at the shop and I will take good care of him.”
She leans in to sprinkle kisses across his face. “I know. And I trust you. It’s just—”
“I know. It’s hard. But you have me. Always. Now, how about us men go off and get to work so Mommy can start her day?”
Grant launches himself into Scarlett’s arms, which leads to a hug like she’s sending him off to war.
“Be good for Maverick, okay?”
“Be good!”
“That’s right. I’ll see you tonight. What time will you be home?”
“Garage closes at six, so probably around seven. Want me to get dinner?”
She shakes her head. “No, let me. You’re already helping out so much today.”
“Scarlett, it’s nothing. Let’s table dinner until we know what time we’re all getting back.”
This satisfies her and I’m finally able to get Grant strapped into the car seat so we can head to the shop.
He loved every minute of it. And my
guys loved him too. He got to sit in every classic car we were working on, pretending to drive each one. He fucking loved getting to wear his own tool belt, stocked with the finest play tools on the market, and coveralls that had his name on them. I might or might not have had those made just in case this day ever came.
Fucking Pinterest.
I also now know why Scarlett’s phone is filled with photos. I wanted to take a picture of his every move. I only sent 20 to her, which I think showed restraint.
At the end of the day, he was crying and screaming because he didn’t want to leave, but once I told him he could take his tools home, he was fine. Plus, I’m pretty sure one of my mechanics told him if he stopped crying, he would slip him a sucker.
I pull out my phone and let Scarlett know I have dinner. As I start my truck and head into traffic with the little man in the back seat and Italian takeout on the passenger side, I can’t help but laugh that I was so opposed to this kid and his mom coming into my life. For so long I thought I was fine being on my own—that I didn’t want anyone in my space, or in my life. But having Scarlett and Grant around has only made my life better.
I pull into the driveway and unbuckle Grant from his car seat. His little arms immediately go around my neck as he gives me the best and tightest hug I’ve ever gotten. Well, except the one I received from his mom earlier today.
“I had fun today, buddy,” I say, gathering the takeout and heading inside.
“Yes!” he screams, and I can’t help but laugh.
My laughter stops immediately as soon as I walk in the house. Because I’m pretty sure I’m picking my jaw up from the floor.
Scarlett is setting up plates around the island in shorts so tiny I swear to God I can see half of her luscious ass. The tank top she’s wearing hugs every curve of her hips, ribs, and tits. And don’t get me started on the view I’m getting when she turns around. Full breasts that are begging for my mouth to latch around them.
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