13. Evie Wilder
Chapter thirteen
Evie Wilder
The drive to Maverick’s house is relaxed. Too relaxed, considering Grayson is our driver. While I know he could have…calmed over the years since I saw him last, he did bring a huge cutout of Maverick’s face to the airport. Besides being hilarious, that shows me he’s not changed all that much. Which means he should be asking a bunch of questions or giving me a hard time about leaving.
“Why are you being weird?” I blurt out.
Maverick glances over his shoulder at me, brows raised. He sat up front so I could be beside Beckham.
“Not you,” I tell him. “Grayson.”
“How am I being weird?” Grayson asks, his hands tapping to the beat of a song on the radio.
“You aren’t annoying me. ”
Maverick snorts. “The man just picked us up from the airport, Wilder. You could refrain from insulting him at least until we get home.”
My heart skips at the sound of him saying home , but I push aside the feeling.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It came out wrong.”
Grayson eyes me in the rearview mirror, but I spy the amusement sparkling in his irises. He’s not hurt. I think it would take a lot more to upset someone as amiable as him.
“I just meant that you usually poke at me and tease me. The only thing you’ve done is call me Sylveon.”
Grayson looks over at Maverick. One of those telepathic brotherly moments I’m starting to get jealous of happens between them before Maverick shrugs.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d respond,” Grayson says finally. “I didn’t want to hurt you unintentionally.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I look at Maverick, who’s facing straight ahead. Did he tell everyone what’s going on? How much did he share?
“I don’t want to be treated any differently than normal,” I say after a moment’s thought. “No walking on eggshells.”
“But,” Maverick says, turning to give his brother a warning look. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think before you speak. Don’t ask overly intrusive questions.”
“So I shouldn’t ask why she’s not wearing a wedding ring?”
Maverick glares at him, but I just let out a little laugh.
“You could, but that would be a waste of a question if you know how to use context clues. ”
Grayson laughs. “Touché, Vaporeon.” I roll my eyes at the Pokémon name.
We turn left down a worn dirt path that barely qualifies as a road. The last dregs of the sunset are in the sky, poking out from behind a beautiful white farmhouse in the distance. Navy blue shutters match the painted rocking chairs on the front porch. There’s a dark wood swing with thick cushions on it, and as we get closer I notice that it’s a wrap around porch. It looks like the kind of home you’d find on the cover of Southern Living magazine.
“It’s beautiful,” I say quietly.
Grayson parks his car next to a large black truck that I’m guessing is Maverick’s.
“It’s nice out here, even if it is away from everything,” Grayson says before sliding out of his car.
I follow suit along with Maverick, before walking around and taking the car seat out.
“Some of us like the peace of the country,” Maverick says as he starts to get our stuff out of the trunk. I set the carrier next to me on the grass, then get the seat base out.
“It’s perfectly peaceful in my neighborhood,” Grayson says, taking a suitcase from Maverick to help. I finish getting the base out, then close the door and pick up Beckham’s carrier. I fed him on the drive here, so he’s fairly happy at the moment staring at the tiny stuffed fox hanging above him.
“No neighborhood you live in is peaceful,” Maverick replies, making me laugh.
“I’ve never gotten a single complaint,” Grayson says as we walk up the porch steps .
My whole body is exhausted from packing the last few days and carrying around this seat, but I know if I complain, one or both of them will go overboard trying to make me comfortable. I wouldn’t be surprised if Maverick swept me up into his arms and carried me to bed. My cheeks heat at the thought. That is not an image I need in my head. I should not be thinking about his strong arms holding me or the warmth of his body against mine.
“Not a single one?” Maverick’s deep voice pulls me out of my foolish fantasy.
Why on earth am I thinking this way? This is Maverick . I’ve never had feelings for him. I mean sure, I had some romantic inclinations in high school, but it was more in a forbidden crush sort of way since he was a few years older and in college. None of those feelings should have left my teenage years. I’m probably just tired. Yeah, that’s it. Exhaustion-induced romantic thoughts.
“Okay, there was one . But that old lady walked right through our neighborhood water fight! I even put flyers up. Everyone knew about it. She shouldn’t have complained. The HOA agreed with me.”
“See, I can have as many water fights as I want. There’s no HOA to complain to. Or even neighbors who could walk over,” Maverick says as he unlocks the front door.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grayson says in a mischievous tone.
A sweet cinnamon scent washes over me as I walk in the door after them. It smells like snickerdoodles and I want to curl up beside the fireplace I see up ahead.
“I’m going to regret this conversation, aren’t I?” Maverick asks.
A boyish grin stretches across Grayson’s face. “Most definitely.” He sets down the suitcase by the door. “With that idea to haunt you, I must be going. Rose is waiting for me and I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”
I resist the urge to sigh. The lovestruck look on his face tugs on my heart strings. I may be pessimistic about my own love life, but one day I’d love to have a man wear that look while thinking of me.
“Thanks for your help, tell Sloane I say hello.”
“Anytime, man.” He claps Maverick on the shoulder, then comes over and gives me a hug that makes my upper back pop. I almost drop Beckham’s carrier.
“Bye Leafeon,” he says and I just shake my head. He bends down to look at Beckham. “Bye little dude, hope to see you again soon.”
With one last wave, he leaves and it’s just me and Maverick alone again. To avoid looking at him, I look around the living room. It’s spacious, with a dark stone fireplace and a brown leather couch topped with various navy and evergreen throw pillows.
“How about we get you settled in upstairs so you can rest? I can give you a tour tomorrow.”
I nod. “That sounds good.”
I can’t even pretend that I have more energy than I do right now. Between all of the emotions of the past few days, the move, and traveling, I’m done for. All I can think about is crawling into bed. I’d like a hot shower as well, but I’m not even sure I can do that without a few hours of sleep.
Maverick leads me to the staircase, and I follow slowly behind him. He stops and places one of the suitcases at the bottom. The other, and the duffel bag, are left by the front door.
“Here, let me carry Beckham up. It’s a little steep.”
He puts a hand out for the carrier .
“You’ve watched me carry him all day, I’m perfectly capable. I can make it up the stairs.”
His hand covers mine on the bar, making my stomach swoop. Warmth travels up my arm. His brown eyes meet mine and my breath catches at the sincerity within them.
“Let me help, Wilder,” he says in a low, raspy voice that makes a tingle go down my spine. “Please.”
I nod once, and let him take the carrier.
“Thank you,” he says and I let out a breathy laugh.
“I think I’m supposed to be the one thanking you.”
“Sometimes it’s harder to accept help than it is to give it,” he says before picking up the suitcase in his other hand.
I think about his statement as I walk up the stairs behind him. He doesn’t seem out of breath in the slightest, even though I’m beginning to feel winded about halfway through. He was right about it being steep. Going up and down this every day is going to be a pain.
We get up to the second floor and my eyes widen. It’s beautiful up here. The living room consists of a small sectional that looks like the perfect place to cozy up and watch a movie. There’s even a decent-sized flat screen TV to do just that. The kitchen looks clean and bright with white cabinets and butcher block countertops. It reminds me of a quaint cottage.
Maverick sets Beckham’s carrier on the coffee table.
“Your room and bathroom are through there.” He gestures to the left, where there’s an open door. I can see a freshly made bed with a bassinet beside it. Drew must have gone ahead and put on clean sheets while he was here.
“This is amazing,” I say what I’m thinking.
“I’m glad you think so. ”
Even though it feels vulnerable, I meet his eyes again from across the room. “Thank you for this, Mav, really.”
He dips his chin. “You’re welcome. Now go get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll go bring up your other suitcase.”
“You can bring it up later if you want to rest for now,” I tell him.
He waves me off on his way to the stairs. “It’s not a big deal.” He pauses at the top before going down. “Oh, and Wilder?”
“Hm?”
“Welcome home.”