21. Maverick Carter
Chapter twenty-one
Maverick Carter
I can’t sleep. Usually, I fall asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. Tonight, rest eludes me. Each time I close my eyes I see that photo of Evie, me, and Beckham. We looked like a family . I rub my chest, staring up at my ceiling fan rotating in the darkness. Everything I’ve dreamed of was right there on that camera screen. It hurts to know that it’s more of a fantasy than reality.
I’d been content being alone after Alexis cheated on me and broke off our engagement. I put my heart out there, only for her to stomp on it and toss it back. Loneliness was safe. But then Evie came along, or rather returned. One look at her changed everything. Within her was a mirror to my own fears, my own isolation, but multiplied by a thousand. My instinct was to dispel her fears. I’ve done my best to do just that over the past few weeks.
In that time, I’ve become more and more drawn to her. Even when she’s hurting, I don’t have the urge to distance myself. Instead, I want to get closer, to pull at the bricks she has around her heart until I see what’s behind the walls. What I’ve found has been nothing short of breathtaking. Her quiet strength, her sassy mouth, her love for Beckham, the way she’s learning to let others help her. I love all of it. I love her . And that love is shifting and changing, as if I’m outgrowing the old definition like a child outgrows shoes.
Unfortunately, I don’t know if Evie would say the same. She’s tangled up in so much hurt and betrayal. I’ve felt the tension between us, seen her eye me with more than friendly appreciation, and enjoyed seeing her blush on several occasions. But none of that is concrete. It’s not a solid confession by any means. So I have to keep being steady, like Juliette said. Maybe if I prove to her that I’m safe, she’ll give me something more than heated glances.
The sound of stairs creaking pulls me out of my jumbled thoughts. Maisy’s head lifts from where she’s sleeping at the foot of the bed. I quiet my breathing and listen. Evie must be coming downstairs. A few more creaks make it sound as if Evie is moving across the living room, and then I hear my front door open. I glance at the clock. It’s two in the morning, hardly the time to be going out for any reason. Worry settles in my stomach like a heavy rock thrown into a lake.
I get up, pull on a t-shirt, and head out of my room with Maisy on my heels. We walk to the front door, but I don’t let Maisy go out with me. I don’t need her running off after a racoon while I’m talking to Evie.
The night is still, and eerily quiet, save for the sound of Evie crying. She’s facing away from me, standing near the railing, her shoulders shaking.
“Wilder?” I say in a low voice .
The crying stops. I watch in the dim porch light as she swipes at her face with her hands, then turns to face me. “I just came to get some fresh air. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t wake me. I haven’t been able to get to sleep. What’s wrong?”
I take a tentative step in her direction. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I want to comfort her somehow.
“I just had a nightmare is all,” she whispers. The brokenness in her voice makes my heart ache for her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask her.
She sniffles. “I-I don’t know. I came outside hoping I could reset my brain somehow. The longer I laid in bed, the more I replayed what I dreamt.”
I know that feeling well. An idea comes to mind that makes me smile even under these circumstances.
“How about I make some hot cocoa? Maybe that will help you calm down.”
The barest hint of a smile crosses her lips. “That actually sounds really nice.”
I don’t have to say it was my mom’s go-to. Evie knows. Any time we had a bad day, or we woke up in the middle of the night just like this, she’d make homemade hot cocoa. My recipe isn’t as good as hers, but it’s as close as I’ve been able to get.
She grabs Beckham’s baby monitor off the porch railing then we walk inside. Maisy greets Evie by sniffing her bare legs. It’s then that I notice she’s only wearing a tank top and pajama shorts. Her arms are wrapped tight around her. I’m cold in my t-shirt and flannel pants, so she must be freezing.
“You go ahead to the kitchen, I’ll be right back.”
I jog toward my room and into my closet. I grab the first sweatshirt I see, which happens to be an Alabama Rockets one. There’s no professional hockey team here in Georgia, so I decided to root for our neighbors this past season. It was a good season to do so too, because they won the Stanley Cup.
When I come back to the kitchen, I find Evie looking in my pantry.
“Top right if you’re looking for cocoa powder,” I say, making her jump. I wince. “Sorry for scaring you.”
She turns to face me. “It’s okay, I’m just a little on edge.”
I nod in understanding, then hold out my sweatshirt. “I thought you might be cold.”
Her soft smile makes my heart grow like bread dough left to rise. “I’m freezing, so this is perfect, thank you.”
She pulls the sweatshirt on over her head. It falls down past the edge of her shorts, hitting mid-thigh. I thought seeing her in my Thrashers jersey was something to behold, but this image is changing the very structure of my brain. My neural pathways are being rewired to spell out her name.
I turn to look at what’s on the counter, trying to pretend like she’s not affecting me the way she is. She’s already pulled down sugar, vanilla, and milk, which are the majority of the main ingredients. I grab the cocoa powder from the top of the pantry, then get a small pot to make it in. I get the milk started on the stove, then turn around and freeze.
Evie has hopped up on my counter, her legs swinging absentmindedly. She looks right at home here in my kitchen, as if she’s spent years here rather than two weeks. It makes me wonder what it would be like if she did spend years here, with me .
“Should I not be on the counter? I can get down–”
She starts to move but I place a hand on her knee, stopping her. “No, it’s fine. You can stay.”
My palm burns, the contact setting my skin ablaze with want. I lift my eyes from her leg to meet her sapphire gaze. Her irises are tinged with surprise and…is that longing? I can’t tell, and I don’t think tonight is the best time to try to find out. I remove my hand, flexing it as I turn back toward the stove. I stir the milk with a whisk even though it’s barely tepid at this point.
“When I was in New York,” Evie breaks the silence between us. “I used to go to this little French café that served sipping chocolate whenever I was having a bad day. It’s different than hot cocoa, but every time I went I thought of Elena.” Emotion clouds her voice when she says my mom’s name.
I have to clear my throat before speaking. “When I apprenticed under a pastry chef in France I learned how to make it. Would you rather that instead? I think I have some chocolate bars in the pantry.”
“No,” she says softly. “I want hers.”
My eyes start to burn. “This won’t be the same.”
“It’ll be close enough. I wish I knew what made it so good.”
“She always said it was–” Evie helps finish my sentence, “Love.” We laugh together, and when I look at her over my shoulder she’s wiping a stray tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
A comfortable silence falls over us. I whisk ingredients into the warm milk until it’s thoroughly mixed and a touch frothy, then I pull down two large mugs and carefully pour the mixture into each one.
“I don’t have any whipped cream, which is probably for the best since you’d eat all of it. ”
She hits my shoulder, laughing. “I would not. I’d leave the tiniest amount just to annoy you.”
I grin and shake my head. “Of course you would.”
She hops down off the counter and picks up one of the mugs, then the baby monitor. For a moment I think she’s going to say thanks and head upstairs, but she looks up at me, vulnerability glinting like a shooting star in her eyes.
“Do you want to drink these on the couch?” she asks.
“That sounds nice,” I reply. A tentative smile pulls at her full lips before she turns and heads toward the living room.
We get settled in on the couch, her on one end, me on the other. She pulls one of my blankets over her legs, and props her back up on the arm of the couch, stretching out toward me. I angle my body to face her, watching as she takes a sip. Her eyes fall shut and she hums in satisfaction.
I don’t say anything. I can feel her thinking from the other side of the couch. She’ll say something eventually, or we’ll drink our hot cocoa in silence until we get sleepy again. I don’t mind either way, though I hope she’ll feel comfortable enough to open up to me.
After a few more sips of cocoa, she speaks up. “I had a nightmare about Ezra cheating on me.”
My grip on my mug tightens. I never asked why she left him. I knew he wasn’t good for her from the beginning, so it didn’t seem like a question I needed an answer to. But if this is why…he’s lucky I never ran into him.
“It was much worse than reality though, as nightmares often can be. I walked in on him cheating with the gorgeous model he said was just a friend, instead of finding text messages and photos on his phone when he was in the shower. ”
I clench my jaw so hard it’s a miracle my teeth don’t crack. How could anyone cheat on someone as beautiful and wonderful as Evie?
“That’s where the differences stopped and the similarities began though. After I caught them, it was as if I was reliving that moment over again. His denial that morphed into broken pleading which then turned into spewing venom about how I was foolish to think a man like him would be satisfied with someone like me .”
I watch as she reaches to set her hot cocoa down on the coffee table next to the baby monitor. Her hands are shaking, and the drink almost spills. There’s a haunted look in her eyes that chills me to my core. I want to book a flight back to New York and make Ezra regret every decision he’s ever made, the first being thinking he was worthy enough to even look at Evie.
“I haven’t had a nightmare since moving here. I thought they were over, I thought–” she cuts herself off, wiping away tears with trembling fingers. “I thought I was getting over it.”
I set my mug down and shift closer to her, pulling her legs over my lap. I take her hands in mine to still the shaking.
“Just because you had a nightmare doesn’t mean you aren’t moving on.” I take a deep breath, then decide to be vulnerable with her since she was with me. “It took a long time for me to stop having similar nightmares and thoughts after Alexis cheated on me. I hated how she could stay in my head when I knew I probably never so much as crossed her mind. But over time, it subsided. It’ll get better for you too.”
I keep my eyes on her hands, running my thumbs over the backs of them. I haven’t shared about Alexis in so long. The only person I’ve shared with like this is my brother Grayson, and that was only after I realized breaking my hand on my punching bag probably wasn’t a healthy outlet. It’s been over two years since then, but it feels like a lifetime.
“Is it dumb that I want to hunt her down and use my newly acquired fighting skills to break her nose?”
I let out a surprised laugh and meet her eyes. The devastated look from before has been replaced with one of vengeance.
“No, because I want to do worse to Ezra.”
She smiles. “Honestly, breaking his nose would be pretty good revenge. His face is his job.”
“He deserves a lot worse for hurting you,” I say in a dark tone.
She squeezes my hands. “You probably shouldn’t murder Beckham’s dad.”
“I think he’d understand when he got older,” I say and she shakes her head, but I can see a smile trying to break through. “And I wouldn’t kill him, just rough him up a little.” Or a lot.
“It doesn’t matter, because neither of us is going to see each other’s exes anytime soon.” She pauses. “I guess I have a better chance of seeing Alexis…”
I shoot her a look. “No getting arrested for assault.”
“ Fine ,” she drags out the word.
I smile at her reluctant acquiescence. She seems to be feeling better after talking, but I don’t want to move just yet. It feels too good holding hands, her legs draped over mine. I want to stay here forever.
“Would you want to watch a movie?” I ask her as soon as the idea comes to me.
She bites her lip. I’m about to say she doesn’t have to if she’s too tired, but then she responds .
“Can we watch The Devil Wears Prada ?” I laugh at her question. That’s been her favorite movie for years now. If I had to guess, it’s one of the reasons she went into the fashion world.
“I should have known you’d suggest that one. Sure, we can.”
Her smile is like the first day of spring after a long winter. It makes me happy to know I’m the cause of it, if only for letting her choose the movie. All I want to do is make sure she smiles like that as often as possible, and I will, for as long as she lets me.