15. Maverick Carter
Chapter fifteen
Maverick Carter
Evie hops up into the passenger seat of my truck, shutting the door behind her. After our early morning tour, she went upstairs because Beckham had woken up. She spent the rest of the day up there. When I’d asked if she wanted lunch, she said she wasn’t hungry. I know she probably just didn’t want me to buy anything for her, but I let it slide and invited her to go grocery shopping with me this afternoon instead.
Her movements are jerky as she clicks her seatbelt in place and faces forward.
“Everything all right?” I ask her in a careful tone. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past few days, it’s that Evie is in a highly emotional state right now and mood swings come with the territory. Sometimes those swings are fun, sometimes they’re scary.
“You lied to me,” she says plainly. My heart stutters in my chest at the accusation .
“What are you talking about?”
She turns her head toward me, her beautiful eyes shooting daggers at me. “You told me you already had furniture up there. That furniture is brand new , Maverick.”
I can’t help but cringe. I’d hoped she wouldn’t figure it out so soon, or at all.
“How did you figure it out?” I ask, feeling defeated.
She pulls a piece of paper out of her hoodie pocket and sets it down on the console with a slap. “You left the receipt in one of the dresser drawers. I found it while unpacking.”
I’m going to kill my brothers. They were supposed to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating. I even told them it was fine if the furniture got scuffed on the way up the stairs. Anything to buy me some time before telling Evie the truth.
“I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything,” I say, gripping the steering wheel even though we aren’t moving yet. “You have enough on your plate.”
“What I’ve had enough of is people lying to me,” she says, her voice sharp. It cuts right through me. I imagine she was lied to a lot while with Ezra. It makes sense for her to detest even the smallest of lies.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have lied. I planned on telling you. I just didn’t want you to get overwhelmed more than you already are.”
She doesn’t respond right away. I risk glancing over at her, and find her head back against the seat rest, her eyes closed.
“Tell me how I can make it better. I’ll be honest from now on, even if I’m worried it will hurt you. Is there anything else?”
Her eyes blink open. There’s a weariness in them that worries me .
“I’m so–” she squeezes her eyes shut once more. “ Ugh . You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. You’ve let me stay here, bought me gifts and furniture. I don’t know why I’m like this.”
My heart breaks for her. I can’t imagine everything she’s trying to process right now.
“A lot has happened over the past few months, even over the past few days,” I tell her. She rolls her head toward me, gazing at me with glassy eyes. “It’s okay that you’re a little tense.”
She lets out a sad laugh. “A little tense? I’m a wreck , Mav. And I’m taking it out on you.”
There’s no way she’d believe me if I denied her statement, so I decide to go in a different direction.
“So what?” I ask, and she blinks at me in response. “I’m not going to fall apart over a few harsh words, Wilder. I can take whatever you throw at me while you figure things out. I’m not going to be scared off by a little attitude or a few tears. You can take it out on me.”
“You don’t care if I’m mean to you?”
I shake my head.
“What about if I start crying in the middle of the grocery store?”
I shrug.
“How about if I wake you up walking downstairs in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep?”
“I fall back asleep pretty easily.”
I glance over at her. Her head is tilted to the side like she’s contemplating a scenario that would break me.
“And if I get so mad that I key your truck?”
My eyes widen. “I’d hope you’d be able to hold back from that.” There’s a lot of things I can handle, but I might get a little upset if I walked out to her scratching up my Ram truck .
She smiles, and I realize she’s teasing me.
“I think I could manage to control my temper just enough,” she says and I laugh.
“Much appreciated.”
I shift my truck into drive and start heading down the dirt path that leads to the road. Now that she’s smiling, I feel better about driving while talking.
“I don’t think you know what you’re getting into,” she warns.
“I promise I’m not going anywhere,” I say as I pull onto the road.
She stays quiet. I don’t push her to say more. Hopefully what I’m saying will sink in, even if it takes a while. I’ll be here, day in and day out, proving that what I’m saying isn’t a lie. Because while I might fib about buying her furniture, I’m never going to lie about something as important as sticking by her side.
“Can you see Beckham in your mirror? I meant to check before we left,” she says instead of responding to my statement.
My gaze flicks up to the mirror and I smile. Beckham’s head is turned toward the window, though I don’t know how much he can see. His big blue eyes that match his mother’s are taking everything in though.
“I can see him, he’s awake and looking around.”
“Okay, good.” She pauses. “Thank you.”
I get the feeling she’s thanking me for more than checking on Beckham. I dip my chin in acknowledgement and don’t say anything more. We ride to the store with nothing but the radio to break the silence. Evie looks out the window. I alternate between watching the road, her, and Beckham.
We pull up to the grocery store and I park near a cart return. I snag the diaper bag and throw it over my shoulder as Evie gets Beckham out with his carrier. She eyes the strap when she sees me, but doesn’t comment. I take it as a win.
I pull a cart out from in front of the store and Evie sets Beckham’s carrier perpendicular on the edge, then pulls the cover down as far as it will go. My brow furrows. He’d probably like being able to see everything.
“People like to reach in and touch him without asking,” Evie explains when she sees my expression. “Sometimes even after I tell them no. This deters them.”
My grip tightens on the cart handle. “I can assure you no one will be touching him as long as I’m standing here.”
Evie’s lips tip up in a small smile. She reaches over and pats my chest. “Take it easy. You’re going to scare anyone we come into contact with.”
“That’s the point,” I say under my breath as I push the cart into the store.
“Do you have a list?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I usually just pick out what looks good.”
I’m just now realizing though that spending a long time in the grocery store might not be something Evie enjoys, especially with Beckham to consider.
“But I have an idea in my head,” I add. “What about you?”
She holds up her phone. “I’ve got some things on here. Where do you want to start?”
“Since you have a list, you make the call. I’ll follow.”
We start making our way through the aisles. Evie tries to keep our groceries separate, but it’s becoming more and more difficult the more we add. I’m sure she’ll try to divide everything in the checkout line. I should probably let her, as much as it goes against my desire to take care of her. She wants to be independent, and this is a small way she can feel that.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “I forgot to grab pasta sauce.”
“Why don’t you go grab it? I’ll wait here with Beckham,” I say and she looks at me with a wary expression.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say with a reassuring smile. “You’ll only be gone for a minute. This way you won’t have to navigate any people with the cart. Worst case, I come find you if he gets upset.”
She nods. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll be quick.”
She speeds off down the aisle. I go down to where Beckham is and pull back the cover to see him. He smiles at me, which makes me grin right back. I start making faces at him, seeing what reactions–if any–I can get.
A few minutes pass and I hear someone coming, so I look up to find an old lady getting close to us, staring right at Beckham.
“Oh isn’t he so precious,” she says, her hand lifting.
I snap down the cover and narrow my eyes. “No touching.”
The old woman blinks in shock. She looks like she’s about to say something, so I turn the cart and head in the other direction. That was probably a little dramatic, but I couldn’t help it. What kind of person tries to touch a stranger’s baby? Not that he’s my baby, but still. She doesn’t know that.
I walk down the next aisle, then frown. It’s been a little too long since Evie went to get pasta sauce. She could have gotten distracted, but I better check on her just in case. I push Beckham along, suddenly paranoid every time someone looks at us. When I make it to the pasta aisle, what I see makes my blood boil .
Some guy has Evie cornered in the empty aisle, talking to her with a smug smirk on his face. She’s clearly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He lifts a hand up toward her arm and my composure is shredded.
“ Hey !” I shout and the guy jumps, his nasty hand falling to his side. Evie jumps too, but when she sees me her expression relaxes.
“I suggest you back away from my wife. Right. Now.”
The guy scrambles backward away from Evie. “S-sorry man, I didn’t know she was taken.”
I don’t say anything. I simply glare at him until he turns and runs down the aisle. When I turn back toward Evie she’s looking at me with wide doe-eyes, a blush painting her cheekbones pink. I pick up my ball cap to rake my hand through my hair, then set it back down.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods slowly. “Thank you. I wanted to get away, but I was frozen. I’m glad you were here.”
I wrap an arm around her and pull her to me. “I’m glad I was here too.” Without thinking, I kiss the crown of her head. “Now let’s hurry up and get out of here. This whole store is filled with creeps.”
She lets out a shaky laugh as she steps back. “Did you meet any other creeps while I was gone?”
“Yes, this old woman tried to touch Beckham. Don’t worry, I didn’t let her.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Please tell me you didn’t treat her the way you did that guy.”
I grimace. She hits my arm.
“Maverick Carter! You can’t go around scaring little old ladies.”
“She shouldn’t have tried to touch Beckham,” I defend myself .
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “We do need to hurry and get out of here then, before you get in trouble for scaring all the customers.”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”
She laughs and I feel the tightness in my chest ease. She’s okay. Beckham’s okay. I can breathe easy again.