Chapter 15 #2
There’s more to Maverick than meets the eye.
He’s giving pathetic rich kid, but I’m sensing baby calf, just learning how to walk, at least when it comes to people.
I don’t think he’s ever been shown the skills.
This might be him trying his best. There’s an earnestness woven into the mild air of condescension swirling around him.
“I suppose I can do that. Until I’m pulled up, I should save and invest money for our future. When I’ve got NHL money, I can buy him whatever he wants.”
That’s something. He’s at least thinking about earning money rather than relying on family.
I’m about to consider this little pep talk wrapped up, but Maverick gets a faraway look in his eyes, a hand slides into his hair, and he tugs, nearly pulling it out. A red flush warms his face, and his expression’s an odd mix of angry, desperate, and forlorn.
“I know that I’m not normal,” he says quietly, restrained. “The therapists told me; my father tried to hide me from the world. But I’ve finally found my reason for being here. When I’m with Bryce, living is a joy rather than a chore.”
Is he gaslighting me? Or is this the real Maverick Elkington? I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing: A peek behind the curtain, or another grand illusion to buy my favor and get what he wants? I have a highly tuned bullshit meter, but I’m not infallible.
“And you don’t know why he ghosted you?”
“No—that’s what ghosting means, leaving without explanation. Maybe you’re not as bright as I thought you were?”
“Jesus fuck. Speculate, Elkington. Why do you think he’s ghosted you?”
“No clue. We had some steamy times. Fuck, the way that man tastes—”
“TMI, Mav.”
“Right, sorry. Anyway, we were hot and heavy for a bit, and then he told me not to speak to him ever again. That we’re over.
I said we were never over,” he says, balling his hand into a fist, murder abducting his expression.
“I apologized for everything about my character I could think of. Promised to make it up to him if he would just tell me what I did … but nothing. I couldn’t get near him because of Coach Meyer, and now that he’s gone to coach for New York, Bryce is gone too. ”
I guess … guess the guy could have at least told Maverick why, but to be fair, whatever it is seems inconsequential to Maverick, so Bryce probably thought it was better to have a clean break.
Or maybe there’s nothing, and Bryce just wanted Maverick out of his life.
Seeing how intense Maverick is about Bryce, it makes sense that he could have been forced to block him.
Still not sure if it’s true love or obsession.
“Why do you want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you? It’s no fun, I promise.”
“He does want to be with me,” Maverick says.
“Maverick—”
“I know what it looks like—I must look as crazy as I feel—but I know that he does. I know it like I’ve never known anything else. We belong together. If I thought for even a second that his actions were a true indication of his feelings, I’d leave him alone. My heart’s telling me otherwise.”
His lip actually fucking trembles. Does he know for sure? Or is that what he has to believe, what he tells himself, so he doesn’t break apart?
Is he about to cry?
Fuck, I’m about to take pity on Maverick Elkington. What the hell is going on?
“I’m not sure what to tell you. Even if you’re right, you can’t make someone be with you.”
He sits up taller. “I can.”
Oh boy. “You gotta lay off, man.” This isn’t my problem, but it’s become my responsibility. Maybe, over time, I can convince him to move on.
Because that worked out so well with Dash and Stacey. Ugh. I need new friends and teammates.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a distraction is exactly what I need right now. Maybe someone’s having an emergency, and I can leave this uncomfortable conversation.
Trav
Heard through the grapevine you’re on a date.
For fucksake, Dashie.
I down my soda and throw some money on the table. “Gotta go, man. Sorry.”
“No, no. This one’s on me. Your advice was helpful.”
It was? Not sure I did much.
In the parking lot, I call Trav, out of breath from running out of the restaurant. “Trav? Trav? I didn’t … I’m not on a fucking date.”
“Dash said—”
“I let Dash believe I was hooking up. Sorry, I should have texted to let you know I was just grabbing a soda with Elkington. Have some faith in me, Travis.”
“Shit, my full name. I deserved that.”
I laugh. “That’s not a thing.” He thinks that when I call him Travis instead of Trav—outside of sex—I’m scolding him.
“It’s a thing, and I should have had more faith in you. I’m sorry, I just … look, it’s no excuse, but I’m smitten, pretty boy. I don’t want anyone taking you from me.”
We talk briefly, and I promise to call him when I’m alone at the condo.
“That your boyfriend?” a deep voice says from my right.
Shit. Maverick. How much did he hear? “Um, uh, something.” I don’t know how Dash and I ever thought we’d be real-life James Bond when we were younger. I’m shit at lying and coming up with a cover story on the spot.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. We’re friends. I can keep a secret.”
He thinks we’re friends? I mean, I guess I listened to his problems and gave him advice, but does that make us friends?
“How much did you hear? You’re my friend? Then tell me the fucking truth.”
“Travis,” he says. His brow pinches together, understanding forms on his perfect face. “Dash’s dad Travis?”
I facepalm. This is maybe almost as bad as Hunt knowing.
“Yeah, okay? It’s private for now. We’re not telling people.
Got it?” My heart’s about to beat outta my chest. This is bad, sooooo bad.
My brain claws for something, anything I can use to garner his sympathy.
But it’s hard to say if Maverick knows how to sympathize.
“Look, my brother’s overprotective, and he hates the idea of us together. ”
There. That’s better than “Hunter forbid it”, which makes me sound like a little kid trying to please his dad. Even though that’s exactly what I am. Fuck me.
It seems to take forever before he answers. A thousand tiny decisions being made at light speed. Imaginary flowcharts being followed to all the various conclusions. Finally, he gives a curt nod.
“Don’t you worry, I got you, man.” But the vulnerability vibes he had going in the restaurant are gone. Vanished. Something else has taken their place.
Power.
Knowing about my secret boyfriend is a pretty powerful secret to know—if you want power over me. Was that his goal all along? Find information? Use me? I take a calming breath. It’s a terrible plan. I don’t have any power over anyone. He’ll figure that out and move on.
“I won’t forget this, Boulder. I think your advice will help me get my man back. Can I text you if I have more questions?”
I can’t exactly say no now, can I? “Sure, man.”
He smiles, victorious. “Great. See you at practice.”