Chapter 1 #2
Maverick served a decade in jail because he got in with the wrong kind of people, did some sketchy shit online that defrauded even worse people, and got caught. He was trying to be a hero, but that only matters in fairy tales.
“I know that if Maverick wants to find me, he will. I’ll just give my address and save him the time.
He has almost no family left. Just a second cousin that he’s going to stay with when he’s released.
He’ll have a solid place to go, and he’ll find him a job.
He’ll make new friends and have good people in his life.
He’ll probably forget that I even exist.”
I really do think that’s the best thing that could happen for him.
I’d miss him terribly, and honestly, I’m not sure I could withstand another loss like that, but I would.
I’d have to. I wish I could say that I’d move on, but I know that in reality, I’d be here, trapped in this endless loop of mundane nothingness.
If anything is going to make me lose my sanity, it’s that.
“That’s not going to happen,” Sylvie says with real conviction. “He’s going to want to meet you, if he does anything other than adore you, understand you, and accept you exactly as you are, then he’s an idiot.”
That’s the last thing that Maverick is, and maybe that’s the problem.
Just because I haven’t allowed myself to go there and imagine a relationship with him because I’m far too damaged doesn’t mean that we don’t have a deep emotional connection. I know he’d feel half responsible for fixing me. It’s not possible. I’ve tried everything.
“I just don’t want to be another person in his life who disappoints him.”
Unbelievably, Sylvie snorts. “He’s a grown ass man. The world fails all of us. People disappoint us. We’re ultimately responsible for the things that we do.”
“Ugh, I know.” The urge to literally smack my forehead is so strong that I curl my hands over my legs and grip hard.
“I’m so tired of my fear controlling everything about my life.
It’s always the loudest voice in my head.
I just want to get better. Why is wanting it not enough?
” Christ. Putting this on her is bullshit too.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m just fucking frustrated. ”
“That makes you just the same as everyone else. What you’re going through is normal, especially after surviving what you did.”
I know that’s not true, but Sylvie is wearing her don’t argue with me, it’s not going to work face.
“You’re brave. You’re resilient. You’re stronger than you know.
And you are getting better.” She shoves the stack of books to the side and reaches for my hand.
“One day, you’ll be able to do everything that you want to do.
I fucking know it, and you know that I know everything.
Don’t doubt the daughter of a fortune teller, even if my mom is fake as shit. ”
I rapid-fire blink to keep the stubborn tears at bay. Even so, my voice is thin and wavery. “When the world gave me you, it was the biggest damn blessing.”
“I feel the exact same way. Where else would I have got all that free lawyering from? Or the sweetest cat cuddles.”
“Where else would you be lucky enough to have to haul heavy bags of used litter down three flights of stairs to a gross communal parking lot dumpster?” I ask sarcastically.
“Where else?” she agrees, with a huge grin. “Also, Maverick can’t be his real name.”
“It is… well it’s the name he goes by. I looked it up. I looked up the guy he’s going to be staying with too. He’s a biker.”
In the past two years of knowing Sylvie, I’ve seen very little surprises her, but her mouth literally drops open. “You’re not serious.”
“I am. Apparently, the club is more of a good thing than not. From what I read.”
“Dude’s getting out of prison and going straight into a hotbed of crime? How is that even allowed?”
“I don’t think they operate like that. I’m slightly worried about him being there, but it’s my understanding that the club has done a lot for their community. He’s written to me about his cousin, and he seems like a good guy.”
“It’ll work out,” Sylvie promises. “All of it.”
I want to believe her as badly as I want to have faith in one day finding a way out of this apartment, and the shit in my mind.
“Just in case it doesn’t…” Sylvie draws her eyebrows on.
They’re whip-thin black arches. One of them dances as she studies me.
“Know that life’s an ass and we’re all a work in progress.
I’m going to custom design you a poster for that.
Motivational style. With a big donkey looking backwards and the words blasted across his rear. ”
I haven’t felt much like laughing in a while.
Added to my most recent failure, I’ve been entirely in my head about Maverick’s release.
I’ve felt so empty and so full of worry, nerves, and pain.
All the bad shit. I should have reached out.
I should have texted Sylvie. I didn’t want to bother her, but I know she wouldn’t have seen it that way.
“It would be a literal masterpiece. I’d be proud to hang that on my wall.”
I try very hard to keep myself from spiraling back down into the bullshit abyss. At the bottom of that chasm is the worst shit, all the blackness, despair, all the self-loathing and bitterness that I don’t want to give into.
I can’t help but think of how ironic it would be if Maverick and I met.
If I know anything about him, it’ll be a when, not an if.
He’ll be the ex-prisoner who found himself on the wrong side of the law and finally free, and I’ll be the woman on the right side of it, but a prisoner of her own making all the same.