7. Mav
SEVEN
MAV
Mckenna’s confession keeps me up the rest of the night.
While my beauty sleeps, her tiny body curled into mine, her eyelashes fanning over the tops of her cheeks, her lips parted sweetly, I fucking stew.
My head throbs, my chest tightens, and I want to simultaneously holler and sob.
I force my body to stay loose and relaxed for Mckenna’s benefit, but inside, hot, angry blood pumps through my veins, and my mind churns from both fury and despair.
He pinned her down on a dirty floor.
He put his hand over her mouth.
He raped her.
Spit on her.
Threatened her.
Fucking hurt her.
Played his stupid little head games with her for the next two years.
And no one knew. No one fucking knew.
Well, that stops now.
Because I know. And I will do everything in my power to set things right again.
To help my beauty process, heal, and move on.
To ruin Branson Burton’s life.
I trust you, Maverick.
Thanks for believing in me.
We’re together.
Argh!
She guts me. Destroys me.
Makes me whole.
I glance down at my sleeping beauty and hold her close.
I stroke the silky strands of her hair away from her face and cup her cheek.
Even in sleep, she turns into me.
I brush my thumb along her jawline and study the shape of her lips, the line of her nose, the sweep of her eyebrows.
Her even breathing, inhales and exhales, reminds me that right now, she’s safe.
She’s here. She’s going to get through this and be okay.
We’re going to get through this and be okay.
As I watch Mckenna sleep, I vow to protect her.
To love her through whatever comes next.
To be a man worthy of her trust. To be her husband.
Two days later, I call Aiden and notify him to dig up every piece of dirt on Branson Burton.
In fact, I make it his top priority.
The information he presented me with barely scratched the surface.
It was all superficial details—Bran’s birthplace, Houston, Texas; his participation in the Law Review; his fucking Little League photos.
I want more than that.
I want everything.
“But, Mav, we need to talk about the agreement I sent and?—”
“Fuck your agreement,” I cut him off.
Aiden pauses.
“Shit, sorry,” I backtrack.
“Listen, Mckenna and I will talk about the marriage, prenup, whatever the fuck. What I need from you is every goddamn thing you can find on Branson. I don’t care if you have to hire a team and put a guy on Branson; whatever needs to be done, do it.”
Aiden is quiet for a long moment.
“What am I looking for?”
“Anything that can ruin him or put him away.” My tone is ice cold.
“Mav, don’t you think this is a little overboard for a classmate that?—”
“Stop talking, Aiden. Please. I respect you too much to say the words that are burning on the tip of my tongue. And once I say them, I won’t be able to take them back. So, watch your step.”
He’s silent.
I swear and heave out an exhale.
“He’s not just a classmate.” My voice is low, measured, and glacial.
I force myself to pause and take another deep breath.
This is Aiden I’m talking to—he has everyone’s—mine, the band’s, Mckenna’s—best interests at heart.
“I can’t get into it. But he’s not just a classmate, and I swear to you, he deserves a million times worse than a tainted career and having to take responsibility for his disgusting actions.”
I’ve never heard the sound a wild animal makes when it realizes it’s cornered but I imagine it’s close to the noise that Aiden chokes on.
He swears, and I know he hears the truth in my voice.
The desperation and the pain.
He knows without knowing and that’s enough for him to mutter, “I’m on it.”
“Get back to me with any and all updates.”
“Is she okay? Kenny?” Aiden is such a decent dude.
“She will be,” I say, meaning it.
I’ll make her whole again.
I’ll protect her. I’ll fucking show up.
“Okay. Speak soon.”
“Send me whatever you find,” I reiterate before ending the call.
Then, I dial Jess and Kimberly and plan a fun, adventurous excursion to cheer Mckenna up and pull her out of her thoughts, if only for a few hours.