34. Maverick
Chapter 34
Maverick
The clock glows 2:14 a.m.
The room’s quiet except for the occasional hum of the fridge.
I shift on the creaky mattress, trying to find a position that doesn’t ache.
Colt mumbles something.
I freeze, ears straining, and catch the end of it—just a whisper.
“Thought you hated me.”
It’s so soft I almost think I imagined it.
He shifts again, deeper into sleep, his breathing evening out.
I stare at the ceiling, throat tight, then pull myself out of bed, needing fresh air. The door clicks behind me, and my breath whooshes out. My hands shake slightly as I grip the balcony railing for support. The metal bites into my palms, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s sliding out from under me. My racing heart pounds in my ears as I sort through my thoughts. I wanted him. When his blue eyes looked up at mine through his dark lashes, I fucking wanted him as much as I wanted her. And that realization scares the shit out of me.
I’d been turned on when we kissed, but this was something more. Like the lock broke on a box that I have buried deep inside of me, and all of those wants, needs, and feelings came rushing out. My fingers tighten over the railing until they turn white as I process what just happened. Callie warm and clutching around my cock, her tight ass gripping my finger. Colt moaning every time I fuck her. The realization that he felt pleasure with each roll of my hip, sending my mind reeling. I listened to both of them, chasing every breath, every tremor, wanting to see how much I could push it, how much pleasure I could draw from them. I wanted the moment to be seared into them until it couldn’t possibly be replaced.
The second I came, the post-nut clarity hit me hard.
I could have been totally misreading this entire situation. Of course he was fucking turned on. He was grinding against Callie. That doesn’t mean he wants to have sex with me. It definitely doesn’t mean he wants more.
I groan, dropping my head to the railing. “I am such a fucking idiot. What the hell am I thinking?”
But no matter what I do, I keep coming around to the fact that I wanted it, and now, I want more.
I want her moans and whimpers, but I want his too.
“Fuck.” I rake my hand through my hair, gripping the ends, and look up at the sky. I am so fucking screwed.
I take deep inhales, the cool night breeze bringing thoughts of fall with it. I’m running out of time. Time to convince Callie to stay. Time to fix this thing between Colt and me.
I’m done fucking ignoring it. Done letting this anger between us fester. I’m not giving up until we sort this through, facing it head-on. But I need to take it slow. If I pressure him too hard, he’s just going to push back. But I’m done letting him be silent.
I thought stepping on the podium and taking the buckle for Rookie of the Year would taste sweet, but instead, it was hollow.
I wanted him to be proud of me.
I won something we were both fighting so hard for.
We trained together, lived and breathed ranking higher in the sport.
I thought we were the same. That no matter what, the only thing that mattered was reaching the top.
After that, he never looked at me the same. Brushed me off every time I tried to talk to him.
Eventually, a bitterness grew inside me, one that was fed every time we competed.
Our very competitive nature drove a rift right between us.
I had been a cocky, arrogant idiot, so full of myself, thinking I understood what was important.
I was so fucking wrong.
I was chasing the win, blind to everything else.
Had I realized what was happening. How fragile it all was, how close we were to losing each other, I would’ve done everything differently.
It shouldn’t have taken Callie coming back for me to see it clearly.
To recognize that all the animosity, all the resentment, was nothing but a frail cover for hurt.
A young kid’s selfish pride.
The belief that the world revolved around me.
It didn’t matter to me why Colt was upset because I was upset too.
Every time he pushed me away, it only proved what I wanted to believe: that he was wrong.
That his unhappiness was his failure, not mine.
Had I taken my head out of my ass for a single second, I would’ve realized I was being an immature idiot.
I miss him. God, I’ve missed him so much.
Colt would never not be happy for me unless something deeper was broken.
And I should’ve pushed to find out what.
I can’t go back.
But I won’t make that mistake again.
Fall is coming.
But I’m not losing them.
Not this time.
Not ever again.