Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STEVIE
T here was an abandoned basket at the grocery store with chocolate chips, vanilla and brown sugar. Some poor clerk would have to put it away.
I should have done it myself, but I’d been in such a rush to leave, I’d set everything down and bolted for the sliding doors.
So much for making Maverick cookies before our date.
The drive home had been a haze of rage and humiliation and that other, green emotion I refused to name. Freaking Megan. I’d never liked her much before today. But seeing her feel up Maverick’s arm like she had every right to touch him, watching as he hadn’t made a move to shy away, meant I hated her now.
I wasn’t his biggest fan either.
After parking the Jeep in the garage, I slammed the door and stomped inside the house, immediately walking to my room where I flopped, face-first, onto my bed and screamed into a pillow.
What was I doing? Why did I care? This wasn’t real. Kissing didn’t count. So why did I feel like screaming again? Or maybe crying for a solid six hours?
This was Maverick. I’d known the score when I started this. I’d thought I could handle it, tolerate him for a while. And now I was terrified that I’d gotten in over my head.
As much as I wanted to blame him for this mess, it was all on me. If I could rewind time, I’d go back to that dinner weeks ago, the dying wish dinner, and tell Meredith there was no way I’d date her son. I’d take it all back just so I wouldn’t have to feel this.
Whatever this was.
There were so many emotions shouting inside of me that I couldn’t pick the loudest.
Humiliation. Regret. Jealousy.
I’d spent years ridiculing Maverick for his sex life. I’d chided him relentlessly about being a playboy. I’d known he’d slept with Megan—she’d made sure the entire volleyball team knew she’d been with the Maverick Houston.
She’d also told us all in the locker room that they were getting together, that they’d had a real connection.
The Diet Coke I’d been drinking had spewed from my nose when she’d made that announcement.
Everyone knew he wasn’t serious about her. That he’d gotten all he’d wanted. Poor girl had been utterly delusional.
Part of me had actually felt sorry for her. Felt pity that she hadn’t figured him out.
And here I was, in the exact same position. Well, sort of.
Okay, my situation was entirely different than Megan’s, other than the fact that Maverick had put his tongue in both our mouths.
“Ugh,” I groaned into the mattress, fighting another scream .
A scream named envy.
It was beating out all of the other emotions.
I couldn’t stand the idea of him with Megan. It was hard enough not to think of him with other women, more experienced women, when they were just nameless, faceless girls from school. But Megan? She’d been my teammate for years. She played libero, and besides her penchant for gossip, she was good. Pretty. Confident.
Fucking Megan.
I hated that I was jealous. I hated that she’d had Maverick first.
Not that I even had him. This was nothing but a mutually beneficial arrangement.
I flopped over, not wanting to suffocate myself in the mattress, and blew a sigh toward the ceiling.
Why did sex and relationships have to be so complicated? When it came to school or work or sports, I wasn’t this person. I didn’t second-guess every decision. Maverick teased me for overthinking, but it wasn’t about everything. I didn’t doubt my every move. But when it came to men, I was a timid, blundering mess.
All of my insecurities were wrapped up in a single word.
Virgin.
I didn’t know how to date. I didn’t know how to relax and be myself around a guy. I wasn’t sure how to initiate an intimate moment. I questioned every touch, every shift in body language.
But I knew Maverick’s movements. I knew his expressions and his habits. He was safe.
Except I wasn’t sure how to get over the idea of him with the Megans .
A month ago, it hadn’t bothered me. A month ago, he hadn’t kissed me since we were toddlers.
How did I stop this from bothering me?
Running out of the grocery store probably wasn’t the answer.
The sound of a door slamming outside made me jackknife to a seat. Then I leapt off my bed, racing through the house.
Jennsyn breezed down the hall, heading for the door as the bell rang.
“Don’t answer it,” I whisper-yelled.
She slowed, giving me a sideways glance. “Um, okay. Why not?”
“Because it’s Maverick.”
“Oh.” She looked to the door, then back to me. “I thought you were dating.”
“We are.” Though if he was here to call this whole thing off, honestly, I couldn’t blame him. No guy should have to suffer through dating Stevie Adair. Who would have thought? Between the two of us in this relationship, I was the bigger disaster.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock so loud it had to be Maverick’s fist pounding against the wood. “Stevie, I know you’re in there. Open up.”
I took a backward step, shaking my head.
“I’m not leaving.” He pounded on the door again. “Not until you talk to me.”
“Did something happen?” Jennsyn asked, lowering her voice. “Did you break up?”
“No. I just don’t want to talk to him.”
“Okay,” she drawled.
“I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to talk to me, Stevie,” Maverick called. “It’s a Saturday. You promised me Saturdays. And if you’re going to go back on your end of this bargain, then I’ll go back on mine.”
I scrunched up my nose.
“What bargain?” Jennsyn asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Let me in, Adair,” Maverick called.
I crossed my arms over my chest, a silent go away.
“Nadine.” His voice was lower, gentler.
“Nadine?” Jennsyn mouthed. “Who?”
“Me.” I pointed to my chest. “Nickname.”
“Okay. So are we answering the door?”
“No,” I said at the same time Maverick yelled, “Yes.”
We really needed a thicker door.
“Ugh. Fine.” Maverick was a stubborn ass who’d sit outside all night to prove his point, so I stomped past Jennsyn for the entryway.
I flung the door open, ready to berate him for being that stubborn ass, but when I found him with a bag of groceries looped over his arm, my beratement died a quick death.
My chocolate chips and brown sugar were peeking out from that plastic sack.
“Here.” He shoved the bag into my chest. “There’s more in the truck.”
More? He turned and stalked to the open back door.
“Did he just bring you groceries? I kind of like him.” Jennsyn took the groceries from my hand. “I’ll take these to the kitchen. You can help him with the rest.”
“Gee. Thanks,” I deadpanned.
She only smiled. “You’re welcome.”
With an eye roll, I trudged to Maverick’s truck, holding out a hand for a couple of bags. “What’s all this? ”
“Dinner.”
How many dinners? This was enough to feed a family of six for a week. Before I could give him a snarky comment, Jennsyn appeared at my side, hand lifted for a wave.
“Hey, I’m Jennsyn Bell. We’ve seen each other around but never officially met.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mav said, dipping his chin.
“You too. Bye.” She spun around, and in her bare feet, crossed the lawn that separated our house from Toren’s next door.
Why she was still coming home was a mystery. All her stuff was at his place now.
Maverick watched as she walked to Toren’s driveway, toward the open garage. And as Toren stepped outside, hauling Jennsyn in for a kiss, his jaw dropped. “Is that Coach Greely?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” He jerked up his chin to Toren. “Hey, Coach.”
“Hi, Maverick,” Toren called, giving him a wave. Then he tugged Jennsyn into the garage, closing it as they disappeared inside.
“How long has that been going on?” Mav asked, taking out the last of the sacks.
I shrugged a nonanswer. If Jennsyn wanted to tell him the truth someday, that was her decision. So I carried the groceries inside, taking them to the kitchen counter as Maverick followed. “I’m sorry about the store.”
“So am I. What I said was a dick move. Sorry.”
I sighed, taking ingredients from the bags and putting them on the counter. He’d bought spices I already had, but I kept that to myself. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“I can’t change my past, Stevie. ”
“I know.”
“Are you going to get upset every time we bump into a girl I know?”
“Maybe? I don’t know,” I admitted.
His jaw clenched.
“This is something I’ve never had to deal with before. I’m out of my element.” And I was jealous. Ninety percent jealous with ten percent being reserved for crushing insecurities.
I hated that he’d have to teach me things. I didn’t like Megan, and I hated knowing that she was better at something. “I feel like I’m late to a game that I don’t know how to play.”
“It’s not a game. It’s not a competition,” he said.
“Says the man who turns everything into a competition.”
He’d once made a contest out of who could drink hot chocolate at the highest temperature. He’d used a candy thermometer and a meat thermometer from his mom’s kitchen so that he could judge the winner.
I’d had a scalded tongue for a week but I’d beat him by five degrees.
“Fair,” he said. “But not this. There’s no winner or loser.”
I desperately wanted to believe him. “Well, I feel like a loser.”
“You’re not.” He nudged his elbow to mine. “Ceasefire?”
“Ceasefire.” I motioned to the food. “What are we making?”
“Chicken and wild rice. A recipe of Dad’s. He’s been cooking a lot and told me this was a new favorite.”
“What can I do?”
He stepped away from the counter, surveying the kitchen. “Point me toward a pan. ”
Other than some direction on where to find utensils and cookware, Maverick didn’t let me help, so I sat on the island, watching as he cooked. Admiring the way that man moved around a kitchen.
“Moment of truth,” he said when the chicken was plated and we sat across from each other at the dining room table.
I took a bite and moaned. “Okay, this is really good. Better than I could have made myself.”
“How hard was that to admit?”
“Very.” I smiled. “I didn’t know you could cook. Or that your dad could either, actually.”
Monty had brought pizza for the last family dinner. But otherwise, whenever we went to the Houstons’ house, Mom would cook for us all. I guess he’d been learning for all the meals in between.
“He’s taken over in the kitchen since Mom’s been sick.”
“And he taught you?”
“No, she did.” He gave me a sad smile. “It started years ago. Little lessons, here and there. Mostly how to read a recipe. But Dad never made a meal when I was growing up other than grilling burgers and steaks in the summers. She told me she wanted me to be able to make a decent meal for my future kids on the nights that my future wife needed a break.”
Meredith wouldn’t meet those future kids or that future wife, would she? Not without a miracle. The burn in my throat was instant, as was the ache in my heart.
“How are you doing with all of this?” I hadn’t asked him how he was holding up enough lately. Everyone was so focused on Meredith, but we needed to start thinking about Maverick and Mabel and Monty.
“I’m good.” A lie. He was far from good. But if he didn’t want to delve into the emotional turmoil of his mother’s terminal illness, I couldn’t blame him.
“Anything I can do?”
“Don’t get upset with me for shit I can’t change.”
“Okay.” I gave him a small smile, and when he went back to eating, I did the same, both of us taking a moment for the sadness to pass.
When we were finished, we did the dishes in silence, and then, standing side by side at the sink, Maverick dropped a kiss to the top of my hair.
“I’m going to take off.”
“Oh, all right.” I barely managed to mask the disappointment in my voice. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Welcome.”
I followed him to the front door, standing on the stoop as he walked to his truck.
He paused beside the door, fingers on the handle. “When this agreement of ours is over, can you do something for me? Can you be my friend again? I’ve missed you.”
My entire chest cracked down the middle.
How hard was it for him to admit that? To be the person who put years and years of feuding to an end?
God, I’d been hard on him. We’d been hard on each other. “No matter what, we’ll always be friends.”
“Promise?”
I held up my pinky finger. “Promise.”
“Make the most of it, right?” He nodded, staring at his truck door for a moment like he was debating opening it or coming back inside.
Don’t go.
I almost said it. I almost asked him to stay. To kiss me again .
But before I could work up the courage, he was behind the wheel and reversing out of my driveway, giving me a quick wave over the dash before he was gone.
Maybe friendship was where we needed to draw the line. Maybe that was better for us both.
There was a reason we’d been fighting for ten years. It was easier, safer, to keep each other at arm’s length. It was easier to bicker than admit there might be something more beneath the surface. Because if we truly imploded, if we broke each other’s hearts, it would change the dynamic of our families forever.
So I retreated into the house. And made chocolate chip cookies alone.