Beautifully Flawed (Shine Design Series Book 2)

by Laura Pavlov

A bitter laugh rolled off his tongue. “I’d say not so fucking well.”

  “I’d agree.”

  He sat in silence for a moment, processing her words. Not ready to share more yet.

  Dr. Sparrow broke the silence. “Do you think your mother blindsided you when you were a child?”

  His head tipped back, and he looked up at the ceiling. Three. Two. One. “I don’t know Doc, I’d say dragging your kid around with you when you’re a fucking prostitute and then dying in front of him would fall under the definition of blindsiding someone, right?”

  “Yes. But why do you say dragging your kid instead of dragging me? Or blindsiding someone instead of blindsiding me? We are talking about you, aren’t we?”

  “Of course, we’re fucking talking about me.”

  “And those memories, from when you were young—tell me how they make you feel?” Dr. Sparrow said.

  He let out a long sigh. “I have terrible pieces of memories. Like little flashes of things happening. It’s sickening. Scary. Lonely. Unsafe. The list goes on and on.”

  “Good, Maverick. I know it isn’t easy to talk about, but sometimes getting it out is how you start the healing process.”

  “I don’t like dredging it up.”

  “Dredging it up often allows you to deal with it and then put it away. The hope is to stop it from haunting you. Most of the issues you’re dealing with are all connected,” she said.

  “I don’t really see how it connects to Peaches.”

  “Well, let’s review what you’ve shared. You avoided sleepovers your entire life up until you started dating Elle. So, your past was impacting you pretty early on. Elle’s also the first woman you’ve ever loved, and from what you’ve shared, it sounds like a deep love.”

  “It is.”

  “Maverick, your first experience with love was not a positive one. As a child, you instinctually attach to your mother, your father, your caretaker. You had only a teenage, single mother, who was living a pretty dark life. You were dragged into her world, and it wasn’t a safe one. Though you got out at a very young age and were able to start over with a wonderful family, you can’t erase what you did live through.”

  “I understand. But how does it affect me and Peaches?”

  “You’re an adult now, and you’re finally ready to truly love someone. It can be scary for someone who’s had their guard up most of their life. Sure, you love your family, you’re a social guy on the surface. But what you have with Elle is different. You’re putting a lot of stock, a lot of trust into one person. It can be a powerful thing, Maverick. And when you feel there’s a chance of losing someone who means so much to you, well, it can stir up a lot of those fears inside you. You need to deal with the past so you can move forward in the future. Separate them. Losing your mom was out of your control, and out of hers, in all honestly. She was a young girl who didn’t know anything different. She most likely did the best she could with you considering her circumstances. Elle is not an addict nor is she a teenager. She is educated, strong, and successful, and she has given you no reason to doubt her. You need to change the way you react to situations. Your instinct is to fight and attack and hold on tight. It’s probably what you did as a little boy to survive. But this situation is different. Am I making any sense?”

  He took a minute to digest her words. It did make sense, but it pissed him off. Made him feel weak. “Yeah. How do I fix it?”

  “It’s kind of like football. You work hard and you try different strategies. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. This was a lot today. Let’s have you sit with this for a bit and meet up again in two or three days.”

  “All right. I have to fix this, Doc.”

  “Well, when you have something motivating you to do so it’s easier to work at it,” Dr. Sparrow said.

  “Agreed.”

  He’d do whatever it took to make things right. Because Elle Fiore wasn’t something—she was everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Elle’s Tip of the Day

  Love Trumps Everything!

  “I think you’ve had enough sugar for a lifetime,” Elle said, as Winston ate another cookie from her run to Miss Cherry’s sweet shop.

  “Don’t tell your mama, okay,” he said with a smile. Powdered sugar remnants settled around his mouth. “You know it’s time for you to get back home, back to work, back to your life.”

  She dropped in the chair beside his hospital bed. “I know. I have Jojo’s baptism this weekend. I told Peyton I’d be there, pending you get released Friday.”

  “You just watched me eat four pastries, I’d say I’m on the mend. They’re only keeping me a few extra days as a precaution. You don’t need to wait, but I sure do appreciate you being here this whole time.”

  “Nice try. I’m not leaving till you’re released. This is where I want to be.”

  Winston’s glossy gaze surprised her. He was a sweet man, but he didn’t show emotion often.

  “You know, sweetheart, I may not be your biological father, but you are my proudest accomplishment. You’ve grown into an amazing young woman. You’re kind and thoughtful, and you charge through life with a whole lot of courage.”

  A lump formed in her throat. This trip home proved a milestone. She’d closed doors on past resentments, moved forward with Mama, as they’d spent every day over the past two weeks talking about all the things. They still had a long way to go, but for the first time in more than two decades, they were on the right path. And Elle was tired of living by so many rules and restraints. Perfection was overrated.

  “You contributed to raising me as much as anyone. Blood isn’t what bonds us—love is. And I love you. Always.”

  He cleared his throat and adjusted his pillow. “I love you too. Glad you and your mama have mended some of those old hurts. Now, let’s stop with the sappy stuff and get ready for a damn good football game.”

  She chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”

  Maverick’s game would be televised in twenty minutes. She’d watched every game since she’d been home and seeing him on TV left her heart heavy. An ache still resided in her chest, as it had since the last time she’d seen him.

  “Game’s starting soon, I hear,” Mama said, catching her off guard when she entered the room. Winston coughed, as her appearance must have surprised him as well. Caroline Humphries didn’t watch football or any sporting event. Ever. She waltzed in wearing a navy Dior dress and heels and stood out in the hospital like a sore thumb.

  “You came to watch the game?” Elle tried to hold back her laughter.

  “You love the man, so I thought I ought to take an interest in getting to know him too.”

  “You can get to know him without watching football, Mama.” Elle laughed.

  “I know you’re heading back home soon, and I want to be with the two most important people in my life. So here I am.”

  What in God’s creation was happening? She didn’t know, nor did she care. She wanted to mend her relationship with her mama, and this was as good a start as any.

  They spent the next few hours watching the game. Her gaze never left the screen as he led the Miners to the win. She wished she could reach through the screen and touch him.

  ****

  The last bit of sun made its final descent behind the horizon. Mama left after the game, and Winston dozed off. She leaned forward to stretch her back, turning her neck from side to side before searching for another episode of Dateline.

  “Elle Fiore?” A male voice said.

  She sat up. “Yes. Who’s asking?”

  The man wore a baseball cap and tinted sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses inside a hospital?

  He moved into the room and shoved a large package at her. She looked down at the white box, it wasn’t wrapped, and someone used a Sharpie to write her name. First and last. No address. What the heck was this? A flash lit up the room. The delivery guy snapped a photo of her looking at the box. What kind of shady business was this? She couldn’t ask because he t
urned on his heels and was out the door before she could process what was happening. She tossed the box to the side and took off down the hall. He was a fast little bugger, because he was halfway to the elevator when she entered the far end of the long hallway. She took off in a sprint, determined to stop him. Her ballet flats allowed her to move at full speed. Nurses blurred in her peripheral, but no one said a word. After weeks in the hospital, they knew her well.

  “Hey. Stop,” she called after him.

  He looked over his shoulder and ignored her plea as he hurried in the elevator. What in the Sam Hill? She entered the hall area outside the elevator and shoved her foot between the narrow space just before the doors closed.

  “Dammit.” She leaned down to rub her sore calf when the doors sprung open.

  “What the hell?” the guy called out, sounding a lot younger than she’d thought.

  “I’ll tell you what the hell—get your butt off this elevator before I hit the alarm and alert security.”

  He stepped off, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I? You haven’t scratched the surface of crazy yet, so buckle up, you scoundrel.” She crossed her arms in front of her as he stood against the wall.

  “What is this? I gave you the box. What’s the big deal?” The kid acted wounded.

  She leaned forward and yanked his stupid sunglasses and hat from his body. Wow, he was young. He looked like a college kid with his overgrown sandy brown hair and nervous blue gaze.

  “Oh, it’s a big deal. Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve watched enough crime shows for a lifetime, and I know shady when I see it. And you’re shady,” she said, loud enough to draw attention.

  “Crime shows?” His words wobbled. Did she feel sympathy? Sure. Would she back off? Hells to the no. She’d already broken the poor kid. Now it was time for answers.

  “Crime shows? Crime shows?” She mocked him in a high-pitched voice, before returning to her scolding tone. “You’re damn straight, kid. You don’t deliver a package to a hospital with no address if you’re on the up and up. And you don’t take a picture of me without permission, do you understand me? What did they ask for, proof of life?”

  “On the up and up? Proof of life? What the hell are you talking about? Look, he asked me to take a picture when I gave you the package. It’s the only way I get paid.” His hands trembled as he held them up in defense.

  She’d scared the bejesus out of this poor kid. And now she had him right where she wanted him. If only she had a bright light to shine in his face to make him sing like a canary.

  “So, you are gettin’ paid. I thought so. Who do you work for, the drug cartel? If you think I’m going to be your drug mule, you’ve got another thing comin’. You may choose unassumin’ innocent girls to do your dirty work, but you knocked on the wrong damn door today.” She poked her finger hard into his chest and studied his frightened features. She knew this guy. She’d definitely seen him before. But where? Had she seen him on Dateline? “Are you a wanted man? I’ve seen your face before.”

  “Wanted? Oh my God,” he moaned. “You’re batshit crazy.”

  “You bet your ass I’m batshit crazy. You can tell your boss, or your godfather all about my craziness. Whoever it is you answer to. Now I’ll ask you one more time. Who. Do. You. Work. For? You’ve got five seconds before I blow my rape whistle and bring you to your knees.”

  “Holy shit, lady. I don’t work for a mobster. You know me because you’ve seen me at PBV Bistro a few times. I’m a busboy. I work for Jackson Vance, for God’s sake.”

  Her stomach dipped. “Is Jackson in some sort of trouble? Has someone pulled him into something he can’t get out of?”

  Now the kid started laughing and shaking his head. “No one’s in trouble. Christ. I just wanted to make a few extra bucks, and now I’m not going to get paid because you’re insane.”

  “It always starts with a busboy, or a college kid—someone who wants to make a few extra bucks. But do you know how this story ends?”

  He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. She had to say—this kid was a lame excuse for a criminal. He’d buckled like a two-dollar lawn chair, and he had a bad attitude.

  “I can’t wait for you to tell me.”

  “It ends with you in an orange jumpsuit and four narrow walls closing in around you. Your roommates are cockroaches, and the food is terrible. So, I’m going to do you a solid and pay you double what your boss is paying you. Start singing, kid.”

  His head fell back in laughter. “My boss? Maverick Wallace hired me. But he’s not my boss, or my godfather. No one is wearing any jumpsuits either. Peyton wouldn’t tell him where you were, so he paid me to fly to Georgia and go to every hospital in Savannah until I found you. I was supposed to hand you the package, take a picture so he knew I delivered it, and get out without answering any questions. He was afraid if you knew it was from him, you would throw the package out before you opened it.”

  Well, this was a huge relief. Unfortunately, she’d just tortured one of Jackson’s employees. The package was from Maverick. Her heart raced. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

  “Why would I throw it out?”

  “I don’t know? Because you’re a bit of a nutjob? Personally, I find you quite terrifying, so I’m probably not the right person to ask.”

  “Well, you should have said who you were, and we could have avoided this whole ugly situation.” She laughed, and he did too.

  “What’s he paying you?”

  “A first-class plane ticket here, a thousand bucks, and a suite tonight at the Marriott.”

  “Wow. Not bad for your first undercover job.”

  “I think he would have paid me anything I wanted. I picked the price, and he didn’t waver once. He was desperate to get the box to you, and he couldn’t leave because he has a pretty important job with the Miners.” He chuckled.

  “Shame on you.” She reached over and pinched him hard.

  “Ouch. What did you do that for?” He rubbed his shoestring of an arm.

  “For preying on someone when they’re down. Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?”

  He raised his brows. “Did yours?”

  Her head fell back in a fit of laughter. “Touché. Come on, let’s see what’s in the box. I’ve got some pastries in the room. You can have a snack before you go shack up in your suite.”

  “You’re lucky you’re hot, because you’re one crazy ass woman,” he said, walking beside her down the hall.

  “You’re lucky you aren’t wanted because I was all set to take you down.” She smirked.

  She reached for the package and reminded him to be quiet while Winston slept. He dug into the box of pastries while she tore at the paper, and a gasp escaped when she opened the box. Maverick Wallace was full of surprises. Holding up his jersey, number seventeen, her jaw hit the floor. His number covered in gold Swarovski crystals, sparkled in the last remnant of light peeking through the window. His name also frosted in black stones. It was breathtaking. He’d teased her in the past about the ridiculousness of bedazzling a football jersey. Was this an apology? A peace offering? She dug further into the box to find a crown. She’d never laid eyes on something so regal. This put her pageant tiaras to shame. Clear stones surrounded it and the weathered gold gave it a vintage feel.

  “The dude sure likes diamonds, huh? Never seen it on a jersey. What’s the crown for?” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “He doesn’t like them, I do. And I don’t know what it’s for, but maybe this will explain?” She lifted the envelope lying beneath the tissue paper.

  “Okay, well, I have a suite with my name on it. So, if the interrogation is over, I’m going to get out of here,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Thanks for coming all this way to drop it off. Sorry for the confusion.”

  “No worries. Can I say something without worrying you’ll drop-kick me?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

  “Sure.”

&nbs
p; “The guy’s been a mess. I don’t know what he did, but he mopes around PBV all the time, and he begged me to fly out here and find you. Said he would do it himself if it were possible. He seems pretty desperate. People make mistakes, right? No one’s perfect. Maybe you should hear him out?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “See ya,” he said, leaving the room.

  She settled into her chair and opened the letter from Maverick. She was surprised he’d written her, but since he was still blocked on her phone, technically this was the only way he could speak to her.

  Peaches,

  I don’t normally write letters; in fact, I can’t tell you the last time I did.

  I’ve lost my way without you. Like all the light in my life has been snuffed out. Peyton refuses to tell me where you are, and I get it. I deserve to wallow in my own misery. I promise you I have. I fucked up. But maybe if you understand what was going on in my head, you can find a way to forgive me.

  I need you to know I have never cheated on you. Since the day you showed up on my driveway in Lake Tahoe, I haven’t wanted another woman. Only you. Always you, Peaches.

  Peyton says she explained Gigi’s roommate being at my house the morning you dropped off Daisy’s shit. I stayed at a hotel alone the night we broke up, sulking like the asshole I am. Peyton told me to respect your wishes and give you space. I’m trying like hell to do that, but I need to tell you everything in my own words.

  There will never be anyone else for me but you. I knew it the first day we met.

  What I’m most sorry for is the way I treated you the last time we spoke. There is no excuse. I lost my shit and I own it. Everything went sideways when we went our separate ways the night of the opening. A teammate sent me a photo of you and Count Dickhead. The way he touched you in the photo—it did something to me. I saw red. My reaction was unwarranted. I called you right after I saw the photo, and the bastard answered your phone. Doubt crept in and jealousy won. I got your text a few hours later and I drove to your house. I saw his car pulling away, and it sent me over the edge. I felt like I was losing you. It’s not rational, and I should have talked to you.