Chapter 6
six
JO
It’s the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals, and we’re all watching from a private box.
Well, everyone aside from Cal and Harlow, who are in hiding somewhere.
There’s so much riding on this game. More than there should be with the asinine plan Willa and Declan came up with.
Win the cup and the scary boss guy will help save Maverick from his murderous mother.
I hate it, but what I hate more is that I couldn’t come up with anything better.
“I should just go find him and ask him to help,” Maverick mutters next to me. He’s been drinking way more than he normally would tonight, and the smell of the alcohol on his breath stings my nose.
“You have nothing to offer him in exchange.”
Maverick sighs and leans closer to me. “After tonight, Ezra will be able to come back, and Eva won’t be a problem anymore. Then we can all live happily ever after.”
I try my best to smile through the pain that statement causes me, and normally Maverick would notice, but the whiskey he’s drinking like water seems to have blurred his vision. Or maybe with Ezra’s return getting closer, he’s losing sight of me altogether.
“I bet you’re excited to have Ezra back,” I say like the masochist I am.
“What if he doesn’t like me anymore?”
I turn towards him and am met with the saddest set of eyes I’ve ever seen. “Why wouldn’t he like you?”
Maverick shrugs. “I’m not . . . I was . . . I used to be . . .” He sighs dramatically and leans his head on my shoulder. “I’m just different.”
“It’s been eight years. No one is the same person they were eight years ago, and they shouldn’t be.” I tilt my head so it’s leaning against his, greedily taking in whatever time I have left with him.
“Maybe not,” he agrees reluctantly.
The game goes on with Willa and Kai screaming terms I don’t understand. Maverick keeps drinking, but he’s at least slowed down some. I know he’s stressed and upset and probably a hundred other emotions, but I’ve never seen him drown them in alcohol.
Too soon, or maybe not soon enough considering the state Maverick is in, Declan’s team wins and the game ends.
Willa rushes out of the box to follow security down to the ice.
The players’ families are allowed out there to celebrate with them, and Declan invited us, but we all decided it was best to go back home immediately after the game ends.
“Can you help me with him?” I ask Kai as I pull Maverick to his feet. He’s able to stand, but he’s swaying dangerously.
“The car is waiting in the player lot to take us back to the hotel,” Belle says, grabbing my purse and Maverick’s shoes. When the hell did he take off his shoes?
The luxury boxes have a separate elevator so we’re able to get down to the parking lot with little trouble.
Unless you count the snail’s pace we’re moving at since two of us are half dragging Maverick.
With Patrick still out there somewhere, it really wasn’t smart to drink the amount Maverick did, and I’m silently scolding myself for not stopping him.
He’s a grown man and makes his own choices, but he usually listens to my advice, and I think he would’ve taken it easy.
Not that any of that matters right now. I just can’t get out of my head tonight.
Thankfully, the ride home is short since the game was on home ice. Maverick fell asleep almost immediately and spent the ride snoring while Kai, Belle, and I sat in anxious silence.
“I’m worried,” Belle says as she stands with me while Kai gets Maverick out of his jacket and onto the couch. He’s practically dead weight at this point, and none of us wanted to struggle getting him up the stairs.
“No matter what happens, we’re going to figure this out. No one is giving up on finding Ezra or protecting Maverick,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
“Do you want me to stay?” Kai asks, coming to stand with us. “I can take the other couch.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure he’ll sleep it off and be miserable in the morning.”
“Call us if you need us,” Belle says, hugging me quickly before leaving. Kai nods and follows her out.
I watch Maverick sleep for a moment, his face so relaxed and peaceful it’s hard to look away.
That usual pinch in his brow and stiffness in his shoulders is missing.
I wish he could feel this at peace more often and without the help of expensive whiskey.
Grabbing the soft blue blanket from the back of the couch, I throw it over him.
“Angel?” Maverick asks in a groggy voice.
“Not an angel. It’s just Jo, Maverick. Get some sleep,” I whisper.
“You’re my angel, Jo,” he says as his eyes slowly close. “You save me from the edge of darkness.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just brush the hair away from his face. As I turn to leave, he snags my wrist and holds on tightly.
“Stay with me,” he says, his eyes still closed as he rides the border of sleep. “Please, angel. Stay with me.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper with how difficult the word was to get out around the lump in my throat. I kick my shoes off quickly and squeeze in next to him on the couch. He pulls me firmly against his chest and rests his chin on the top of my head.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing to me, holding me like this. Maverick has no idea he makes my heart race as it breaks. But I’d take that pain over and over again just to feel his arms around me and the sweet way he whispers ‘angel’ in my ear before he drifts off to sleep.