Chapter 17
17
MAVERICK
T he apartment feels different with Cadence and Nan here. It's been an adjustment having two new people in my space, but it's a good adjustment. Life seems to linger in every room now. I know they're trying to keep their things in their rooms, but stuff is slowly starting to appear out of thin air—a basket of yarn, a soft blanket, a sweater that smells like Cadence. And every time I spot them, a happy wave fills me.
I've been alone for way too long.
Yeah, I'm focused on Cadence, but damn if having Tess around hasn't been nice. I never had a grandma, so I don't have much to compare her to, but I think she's gotta be top-ranked.
Nan's nocturnal kitchen raids gave me a few scares at first. My soul left my body the night I stumbled out of bed, half-asleep, and ran into her in the middle of the kitchen.
She slapped her hand on her chest, and yelled, "Jesus Christ on a cracker. I nearly peed my pants." Me too lady, me too . But those midnight encounters have become a strange sort of ritual for us. We'll sit at the island, nursing mugs of cocoa or tea, and just...talk. She's lived a lot of life, and I like hearing her stories about everything from her friends at the community center to her true crime podcasts.
And then there's Cadence.
Just thinking about her makes my heart start a rattling rumble in my chest. Having her here, under the same roof, it's both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I get to see her every day, even if it's only for a few minutes. But a curse because I can't act on what I feel. Because I'm feeling more and more like she is it for me. This isn't a crush, or an obsession, or anything temporary. It's bigger. It's more.
And her grandma is almost always in the room with us. Yeah, she heads out during the day, disappearing on the bus. Any time I offer to get her a car, she looks at me like I'm out of my mind and waves her hand at me. I don't like that she's out there by herself, but as she pointed out, she's lived in this city for sixty years and damned well knows how to get where she's going.
It doesn't help that Cadence and I have completely different schedules. My admittedly crazy workload means I'm often gone before she's awake and home long after she's asleep. We brush up against each other in the entryway or at the fridge, exchanging brief smiles and hellos that never feel like enough. Too often, I find myself standing there, trying to hang onto the feel of her, watching her walk away.
I’m starting to wonder if she's avoiding me on purpose. I catch glimpses of her sometimes, ducking out of a room just as I enter, or suddenly becoming engrossed in her phone when I walk by. It stings a little, but I get it. This situation is complicated. We're trying to navigate uncharted waters, to find a way to coexist without crossing any lines.
But god, there are moments when all I want to do is cross those lines. When she laughs at something Nan says and her whole face lights up, or when she's curled up on the couch with a book, looking so soft and inviting. In those moments, I have to physically stop myself from going to her, from brushing the hair out of her face and tracing the curve of her smile with my thumb.
I keep reminding myself that I'm in it for the long haul. That eventually, Cadence and Nan will find their own place and move out. And as much as the thought of coming home to an empty apartment again makes my chest ache, I know it's for the best. Because right now, living with the woman I'm falling for but can't have...it's a special kind of torture. And once she’s moved out, I can make my fucking move.
Seriously, how would it even work to date while she lives here? I can just picture cornering her in the kitchen one night, sneaking a kiss, and having Nan toddle into the room for a cup of tea and catching us. I've gone and moved in the woman I'm falling for, and her built-in cockblock of a grandmother.
Not my smartest move.
I slip into the apartment well past midnight, my body heavy with the weight of the day. The living room is dark, but there's a soft glow coming from the kitchen. I'm expecting Nan, but I freeze in my tracks when the reason for the permanent ache in my chest lifts her head and smiles at me.
She's perched on a stool at the counter, dressed in those damn leggings that hug her curves in all the right ways, and a t-shirt that's seen better days. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and there's a smudge of something on her cheek. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Hey," I say, my voice rough with exhaustion and something else I don't want to name.
She smiles and gives me a funny little wave, half a grilled cheese sandwich in her hand. "Oh, hey. Late night?"
I nod, dropping my jacket on the counter and yank my tie the rest of the way off. "You could say that. You?"
She takes a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "The usual. Lots of dogs, not enough hands."
"Are you short on volunteers? You could have called me."
"And what? You'd leave your really demanding job to come and walk the dogs with me?"
Yes, I would. She hasn't realized it yet, but I'd do almost anything for her.
But I don't tell her that. Instead, I shrug and smile. "I could have given you a pep talk."
She throws back her head, laughing, the light bouncing off the blonde strands of her hair, and sinking into the dark roots. "You're not a blonde!"
Her eyebrows wing up. "Um…no. We talked about that already, didn't we?"
"Right no, sorry. It's just, I guess I do remember you from when we met, a little. I remember a dark haired woman with a big laugh."
For some reason, her face goes slack, then fills with…panic? "Wait, you remember? I thought you said you don't remember things when you drink?"
"Did I? I told you that?" It's mostly true, but I feel like I would remember that conversation…unless of course we had it while I was drunk.
"Oh, no, not you. Someone at the club that night you climbed the pole. It's nothing. No big deal. Don't spend another second thinking about it," she stammers.
Not another second? Yeah, that's not going to happen. I'm going to be wracking my brain and searching my memories of that night to see if I can figure out why she looks so nervous.
I'm about to try and get some more information out of her, when my stomach betrays me. A loud, insistent growl that echoes in the quiet kitchen. Cadence bursts out laughing, her eyes dancing.
"Hungry?" she teases, pushing the plate with the other half of her sandwich towards me.
I shake my head, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "I can make my own."
I can, right? It can't be that hard. It's bread and cheese, and a hot pan. A kid could do it.
She shrugs, taking another bite. "Suit yourself."
I only need about twenty seconds of staring to figure out how to turn the burner on, then I rummage through the fridge, gathering the ingredients for a grilled cheese. Bread, butter, cheese. Simple enough. That's another perk of living with two women. There's actually food in the fridge. Not food - ingredients. To make shit with.
I slap the sandwich together and toss it in a pan on the stove. But in my sleep-deprived state, I make a rookie mistake. I stick my hand directly into the pan to check if it's hot.
Pain sears through my fingers, and I yelp, yanking my hand back. "Fuck!"
Cadence is by my side in an instant, her brows knitted with concern. "What happened?"
I hold up my hand, the pads of my fingers an angry red. "I, uh...checked if the pan was hot."
She stares at me for a beat, then shakes her head. "You...what? Why would you do that?"
I shrug, feeling like an idiot. "Seemed like a good idea at the time?"
She sighs, taking my hand in hers and pulling me towards the sink. "Lord, save me from handsome, helpless men."
The moment her skin touches mine, it's like a livewire straight to my heart. Every nerve ending in my body is suddenly awake, attuned to her presence. She turns on the cold water and guides my hand under the stream, her fingers gently cupping mine. It's such a simple gesture, but it feels monumental. Intimate in a way that steals my breath.
She's close, so close that I can see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose and smell the vanilla of her shampoo. If I leaned in just a little, I could capture her lips with mine and finally taste the sweetness that's been haunting my dreams.
But just as I start to dip my head, she pulls back. An awkward laugh escapes her, and she drops my hand like it's burned her. "There, that should help."
I flex my fingers, already missing her touch. "Thanks."
She nods, taking a step back. And another. Putting distance between us. "Well, I should...I should get to bed. Early morning and all that."
"Right. Yeah. Of course." I babble, profound disappointment weighing me down. So fucking close .
She gives me a tight smile, then disappears down the hall. I stand there, staring after her, my heart hammering in my chest. God, I'm in trouble. So much trouble.
Because every day, every interaction, every stolen moment...it just makes me fall a little harder. Makes me want her a little more. And I don't know how much longer I'm supposed to pretend I don't.
Turning the heat off on the pan, I head to my room, my mind still reeling from the moment with Cadence in the kitchen. The space feels too small, too confining. I pace restlessly, my body thrumming with a nervous energy I can't shake.
On a whim, I strip off my work clothes and throw on some gym gear—a pair of black basketball shorts and a faded gray t-shirt that's seen better days. Maybe a workout will help clear my head.
I slip out of my room and make my way through the apartment, my footsteps muffled on the plush carpet. I pause, staring at Cadence's door. The urge to knock, to see her face one more time before I go, is almost overwhelming. But I resist. Nan would hear me knocking, for sure. Plus I don't want to be that creepy guy.
With a sigh, I exit the apartment, making sure to close the door quietly behind me. I hit the door for the stairs, but my feet automatically take me up instead of down. I don't really need a workout. I need family.
When I reach Ransom's floor, I don't bother knocking. His door is never locked, a testament to the trust and openness that defines our family. I push it open gently, ready to turn around and leave if the place is dark and silent.
But it's not. The soft glow of the TV flickers from the second floor. I climb the staircase, my heart a little lighter with each step knowing I don't have to turn around and spend a restless few hours trying to settle my brain.
As I crest the top of the stairs, I find Ransom lounging on the overstuffed couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He's dressed down in a pair of navy shorts and a white tank top, his muscular arms on full display. The sight is familiar, comforting in its normalcy. Ransom's private living room has always been a sanctuary of sorts. It's never been a place we all gather; we do that downstairs. But when we need some one on one time, this is where we come. And never, not once, has he turned any of us away.
"Hey," I say, dropping down onto the couch beside him.
He glances over at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Couldn't sleep?"
I shake my head, leaning back into the plush cushions. "Something like that."
Ransom nods, like he understands. And maybe he does. He's always had a way of reading me, of seeing beneath the surface. He can read all of us like fucking books. It used to be annoying, but now, I depend on it.
He gets up and walks over to the bar, a sleek expanse of dark wood and gleaming bottles. "Beer?" he asks, popping open the tall narrow fridge.
"Please." I catch the bottle he tosses me, the condensation cool against my palm.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our beers and watching the muted images flicker across the TV screen. It's some old Western, all tumbleweeds and gunfights. But I'm not really paying attention. My mind keeps drifting back to Cadence, to the electricity that crackled between us in the kitchen.
"So," Ransom says, breaking the silence. "How're things going with Cadence and her grandma?"
I take a long pull from my beer, buying myself a moment to gather my thoughts. "Good, I think. I mean, it's an adjustment for all of us. But Nan seems to be settling in well. And Cadence..." I trail off, not sure how to put into words the jumble of emotions she stirs in me.
Ransom studies me, his gaze knowing. "And Cadence?" he prompts gently.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Cadence is...complicated."
He nods, taking a swig of his beer. "Because you're into her. You knew that going into this."
It's not a question, but a statement of fact. And hearing it out loud, put so bluntly, makes my chest tighten.
"Yeah," I admit, my voice rough. "I'm into her. But it's more than that. It's..." I struggle to find the right words. "It's like she's under my skin, you know? Like no matter what I do, I can't shake her."
Ransom is quiet for a moment, contemplative. "You don't want to shake her though, do you? You would have moved her into the extra apartment otherwise, instead of having us run around moving furniture. Have you told her how you feel?"
I bark out a laugh, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room. "And say what, exactly? 'Hey, I know you're living with me out of necessity and I'm technically your boss, but I can't stop thinking about kissing you'?"
He shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Maybe not in those exact words. But yeah, something like that."
I shake my head, taking another long pull from my beer. "I can't, man. I admit that was my plan when I moved them in, but I didn't really think the fucking plan through. I've never lived with a grandma. Nan's a cool lady, but how would she feel about me putting the moves on her granddaughter? Nah, I have to scrap the plan, and wait."
Ransom leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Wait for what exactly?"
"She told me she's nearly got enough saved to get a place, then she and Nan will move on. Then I can ask her out properly."
His mouth tightens. "Look, I get it. The situation is messy. But sometimes, the best things in life are worth a little mess. Maybe you need to talk to Cadence's grandma. I only met her briefly, but she seems like a nice woman. Someone you can skip over all the bullshit with, and just be honest about how you feel."
I let his words sink in, turning them over in my mind. He's not wrong. But the fear of losing Cadence, of ruining the fragile balance we've struck, is paralyzing.
"I don't know," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can risk it. If Nan says no, that's it. Cadence would never go against her grandma's wishes."
Ransom claps a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it grounding me. "That's the thing about love, little brother. It's always a risk. But if you ask me, she's a risk worth taking."
I choke on my sip of beer. "Love? It's not…I'm not…" I clamp my lips shut, and take a few deep breaths through my nose. "I hadn't exactly put that together brother. That's a big fucking leap."
"Is it though? You've been talking about her for over a month. You moved her and her grandma into your place. What the fuck do you think that's all about? Because let me tell you, you're charitable as fuck, you're a do-gooder, but you've never crossed that line before. I haven't seen a line of helpless people parading through your home. So why now?"
Another denial springs to my lips, but dies a quick death. He's not wrong. At all. In fact he's pretty damned right. I've taken on a lot of pro-bono cases, for a lot of different people. Often I've paid for hotel rooms, or treatment, or anything else they might need, but never, not once, have I considered inviting one of them home. The idea of having a stranger in my home is uncomfortable.
But Cadence and her grandma don't feel like strangers.
Maybe he's right. Maybe Cadence is a risk worth taking. But as I sit there, the cool bottle of beer sweating in my hand and the muted sounds of the TV washing over me, I'm not sure I have the courage to take that leap. Not yet, anyway. All I can manage is, "I don't really know."
Thankfully, other than a quickly hidden small smile, he doesn't reply. We go back to watching the movie, but I'm not really seeing what's happening on screen. My mind is wrapped up in the mess I've gotten myself into, and the realization that I don't even want to try getting out of it.
"Mav."
"Mav."
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I turn to Ransom, who's not bothering to hide his laugh. "Brother. Movie's over."
"Right. Yeah," I say, but I don't move, just stare at the now black screen.
"What do you like about her?" he asks quietly, lifting one knee onto the couch and running an arm along the back. "What makes her different for you?"
The question hits me like a sucker punch, stealing the air from my lungs. What do I like about her? Where do I even start?
"She's just...she's incredible, man. The way she's built that rescue from the ground up, the way she pours her heart and soul into every single animal that comes through those doors. It's not just a job to her, you know? It's a calling. A purpose."
I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, the bottle dangling between my fingers. "And the way she is with her Nan? The patience, the love, the unwavering dedication? It's fucking beautiful. You and I both know not all families are like that. She's got this huge heart, this capacity for love and compassion that just blows me away."
Ransom nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "She sounds special."
"She is," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "But it's more than that. It's the way she carries herself, the way she moves through the world. Nothing seems to faze her, you know? Like, no matter what life throws at her, she just...handles it. With grace and strength and this quiet resilience, that's just...it's fucking inspiring."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "And she's so...real. So authentically herself. There's no pretense with her, no bullshit. She's warm and approachable and just...she's full of life, man. Full of this vibrant energy that just draws you in. A lot of the women I've dated have been all about appearances. They want to look good, to be seen in a certain way, but underneath, they're different. Cadence is the opposite. She doesn't seem to care what she looks like most of the time, and still, she shines. Even the dog hair doesn't bother me."
I shake my head, a wry laugh escaping me. "I sound like a fucking idiot, don't I?"
Ransom shakes his head, gaze serious. "No brother, you sound like a man who's falling hard."
I don't deny it. Can't deny it. Because he's right. I am falling. Hard and fast and with no safety net in sight.
"I just...I don't know what to do, man. I've never felt like this before. Never wanted someone this badly. And it's not just physical, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong, I want her. I want to touch her, to taste her, to lose myself in her. But it's more than that. I want...I want everything with her. And I want to be her everything. Her support system, her rock. When she has a problem, I want to be the one she talks to first because she knows she can trust me with anything."
The words pour out of me, a torrent of emotion I can't stem. It's like a dam has burst inside me, and all the feelings I've been trying so hard to suppress are rushing to the surface.
Ransom is quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Then you need to do something about it, Mav. Because if you don't? If you let fear or doubt or whatever the fuck else is holding you back win? You'll regret it for the rest of your life."