Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
MIA
The second cup of coffee swirls with angry clouds of cream when the front door swings wide and Maverick enters again.
Wordless, expressionless, but with a slight limp I hadn’t noticed before. Could be from sleeping on the floor. Could be something else entirely.
“How’d your call go?”
His face darkens. “Tell me about your manager. His crew.”
I run my hands over my face, thoughts twisting and turning. Where to start? What to say?
“Why are you asking?”
His eyes narrow, face grim as he takes the stool next to me, turning so our knees are just an inch apart. “He says he has guardianship over you.” His jaw tightens. “That true?”
The air escapes my lungs. My eyes cast down to the ground, and I reflexively feel the phone in my pocket. Heavier than it should be. Like it carries the weight of the world. I take a deep breath, steel myself. But I can’t make the words come out. Instead, I nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I shrug, swallowing hard. My hands twist and turn in my lap now, like the thoughts in my head.
“I—I didn’t think he’d stoop so low, didn’t think he’d go there…”
I wait for the scolding tones, the judgmental glare. Instead, I find an open face and quiet strength, inviting me to speak.
My hands shake, and I can’t find the words. My breath hitches as I try once, then again. “A couple of years back, I was so depressed. So done with all of it. The road, the concerts, the unending control. I wanted out. I wanted to take my money and run. But it was never that simple.”
How do I say this without making myself sound pathetic?
“I thought about … ending things. Not because I wanted to hurt myself but because I wanted so badly to escape the life that was carved out for me. To stop being Mia Love.”
His mouth twitches like he’s going to speak. Instead, he waits until I can’t bear the silence a moment longer.
“They made me go to the doctor … to a therapist. They got a diagnosis, and they got prescriptions. Things I had to take. They convinced a judge I was acting contrary to my best interests, and the rest is history.”
Maverick’s face is unreadable. But I can tell his mind’s working.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
He stares out the window, face unmoving. “No. But this changes things, Mia.”
“Changes the fact I’m tired of being controlled? So very bone-tired. That I want to decide for myself, just once? To do what’s in my best interest. Not what they want.”
“As guardian, Edwin has—”
“I know. I know. Complete control over my finances, my future. But—”
He crosses his arms, shutting down. Not listening. No one listens.
“But—” He waits.
But I can’t find the words. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I still want to think there’s someone in this world who would care if they knew my story.
“What does Edwin want?”
Maverick runs a hand over his beard. “Wants to know where you’re at. Wants to get you back on tour. Said he could make this easier if you cooperated.”
I huff. “Of course.”
Silence.
“Money’s always the bottom line.”
The big cowboy doesn’t answer. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
After all, he’s my bodyguard, working in an official capacity. His first job. There are lines he won’t cross, and can I really blame him?
Or maybe worse, he doesn’t care. There’s that, too.
I swipe my hand over my cheeks, stopping the tears that want to fall in my coffee.
“We can buy you a few days.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, staring into the billows of brown and white, like thunderheads in the Texas heat. “You’ve already done more than you should have.”
“The man at your concert. The one who shot up the place. You sure they have the right guy?”
I shake my head. “Yeah, I got a good look at his face. Countless other witnesses identified him, too.”
I scrutinize the world-weary cowboy, but his face gives no answers. Then, he rises, leaves the room. He returns with a Kleenex box, plopping it down next to me.
I stare at the floral box, disappointment blooming. Of course, he won’t help. No one will.
“Sorry I’m so emotional right now.”
“Makes sense with all you’ve been through.” His tone is softer now, eyes more perceptive.
“Your parents… Do you know why they hired Lone Star Security?” Maverick’s face is a sudden wall, suspicion shrouded behind his eyes.
“My parents?” I arch my eyebrows. “I have no clue, and honestly, I don’t care. They abandoned me long ago. Both of them. Anything they still want from me has to do with money. I can’t imagine anything else.”
“How can you be so sure?”
My nostrils flare, pulse spiking. “Don’t you get it? I’m not sure of anything right now.”
He scans the windows, head on a swivel. Always multi-tasking. “Maybe it had something to do with this concert? This location?”
“Your company’s the one they hired. Why not ask Grayson about it? I’m sure he knows more than I do.”
Maverick frowns, running his hand over his beard.
“Above my pay grade,” he says. “According to Grayson.”
If his mind could make noise, I’d hear gears grinding and pistons firing.
“What?” I ask, fear lodging in my throat for reasons I can’t name.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head and pacing.
I survey the room, a decision brewing. I have to leave this place. Before they bring Edwin here. Before I can’t escape again.
I bite my bottom lip, tasting salt and blood. “This morning, I heard you leave early. What were you doing?”
“Securing the perimeter. Making sure you’re safe.”
“Before dawn? Now, that’s dedication.”
“Always up that early.” He stares at the hands in my lap.
“What will happen? After?”
“After?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, after … when Edwin finds out where I’m at.”
“Can’t tell the future, Princess.”
What he doesn’t know is that I can. Because the future proves the past. Always has in my case. One unending pattern.
I smile stiffly, pushing the mug away and rising. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He nods. “I’ll be outside, watching.”
It’s what I’m counting on.