CHAPTER 22
harley
He drank. A lot. I had a feeling he didn’t think I’d notice—or anyone else for that matter—but I did. At lunch, it’d been the water bottle he kept with him. And honestly, he’d probably been drinking on and off all day, considering the glassy look in his eyes and flushed cheeks.
I knew that look all too well. I’d grown up with it. I’d watched it blur the edges of who my father and grandfather were until there was nothing left but something unpredictable.
That evening, when I showed up at the bar, he was already doing shots with a few tourists. The same stainless steel water bottle sat behind the bar, and he never let anyone touch it.
They were all little things, but they added up quickly. Enough to make my stomach twist uncomfortably. I tried to tell myself that I was overthinking it—that this was just what some bartenders did, that this wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t them. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t.
It made me wonder how bad things had gotten for him, but I wasn’t sure I could ask. It wasn’t my place. Instead, I just nursed a drink as I watched him.
He moved between customers with ease in this way that was utterly charming and magnetic. He laughed, leaned in close, and brushed hands with strangers. He did it like it meant nothing. Like they meant nothing. And maybe they didn’t. Maybe that was just the job.
I kept telling myself that. But that didn’t stop the tightness in my chest. It didn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling. Underneath all of that, jealousy crawled its way through me with every interaction I witnessed. It was stupid, and I knew that.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop me from moping.
“Hey,” Maverick began as he leaned on the bar in front of me. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Sitting here,” I replied dryly, “talking to you.”
“Yeah, I got that, but what about after that?”
“I don’t know. Probably going home.” I didn’t want to go home. I should’ve gone home hours ago, but I just kept sitting at the bar as if it would magically solve all the problems I had with my mother. Well, maybe it would if she fell asleep before I got home.
“Do you like s’mores?” Maverick asked. The question made me falter.
“Do I like s’mores?” I repeated with a frown.
“It’s not that difficult a question, princess.” He chuckled, and the sound was liquid silk against my nerves. Would there ever be a day when he didn’t affect me like this? “It’s a simple yes or no.”
“I’ve never had them.”
“You—what?” he exclaimed, genuinely flabbergasted. “How in the hell have you never had a goddamn s’more?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off.
“Scratch that. Bitch mother, got it. You and I need to fix this. Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight,” Maverick repeated. “It’s a summer staple, Harley. It’s a milestone.”
“It’s just a s’more,” I said with a chuckle. The importance this man put on a campfire treat was funny to me.
“We’re going to come back to that once you’ve tried one,” he replied. “So, you in? Or are we doing something else tonight?”
My heart stuttered, which was ridiculous, considering we’d done lunch with Eduardo. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t done much talking. He let Eduardo take over the whole conversation, who was great, but I wanted to have lunch with Maverick, not Eduardo.
“S’mores are fine,” I whispered. “I hope.”
“I think you underestimate a good s’more.”
“Or maybe you overestimate them.”
“We’ll see, princess,” Maverick said with a wink that sent butterflies scattering through my stomach, “we’ll see.”
S’mores were overrated, but I wasn’t much of a marshmallow person. Sitting next to Maverick with our knees touching was enough of a distraction to make me eat five of them. Well, that, and it was kind of fun to set marshmallows on fire, but I had to do something with them.
“Have I convinced you that they’re the best?” Maverick asked.
“No,” I retorted, leaning over him to grab another marshmallow. The proximity led to another light brush of his fingers over my back. The contact was minimal and innocent, but my skin burned under his touch, and my fingers ached with a need to touch him back.
It was silly and confusing all at once. I’d tried to meet people and make connections since leaving Wilde Bay, and nothing.
No one interested me. I’d resigned myself to not being the person who wanted any kind of relationship with anyone.
And yet, here I was, with my body screaming with an unfamiliar need for him.
He was easy to be around, and my walls melted away all too quickly in his presence.
Something about him spoke to me on a level I couldn’t explain.
That notion bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
“And you just keep eating them.”
“I like setting the marshmallows on fire,” I admitted sheepishly. He burst out laughing, which only made my ears flame hotter with embarrassment.
“Always the little rebel,” he commented.
“Right,” I scoffed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I shoved a marshmallow into the fire pit and watched how the flames licked at its edges.
Little rebel. As if. The only time I ever figured out how to step out of line was when Maverick was involved.
And even then, I always ended up right back where my mother wanted me.
I didn’t know how to be anything other than exactly what I was expected to be.
I was better at sacrificing everything than I was at standing up for myself.
Maverick’s knee bumped into mine. Once, twice, three times. My gaze finally flicked up in his direction, only to find him watching me closely, the intensity in his expression unnerving.
“Get out of your head, Harley,” he said softly. “Don’t let them ruin a good night.”
Still reading me like a book, even after all this time. How he could was beyond me. That shit seemed unfair after five years.
“Do you hate me?” I asked, needing to know. “For just…”
“Disappearing into thin air?” Maverick finished for me.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “That.”
“I thought I hated you.”
Oh. I couldn’t even blame him for that.
Silence settled between us as he lit a cigarette and took a slow drag. I just watched, studying how the shadows played across his face. God, he was handsome in a way I could feel myself easily getting lost in.
“But I get it,” he said finally. “Like it? Not a fucking chance. But it’s whatever. We do whatever it takes to survive, right?”
There was something in the way he said it that made me wonder what he’d done to survive over the years. Made me wonder what skeletons were hiding in his closet. What things kept him up at night and made him drink so much.
And did he hate it as much as I did? Surviving, I meant. I hated surviving. I hated what it made me. Hated how I felt.
I just didn’t know how to stop… all of it. Not without upsetting well… pretty much everyone.
“Yeah,” I murmured and left it at that.
Keeping the marshmallow in the fire, I stared at it as it continued to burn.
It charred around the edges and turned black.
I watched how it slowly melted into a gooey, disgusting mess.
The process was morbidly mesmerizing, a weird parallel to how my life felt as if it was falling apart while I just let it burn.
Maverick said nothing as he sat with his knee pressed up against mine. Maybe he knew I was lost in my own thoughts, or maybe he was lost in his. Who knew? Either way, we remained utterly silent while the little campfire dwindled.
“I should go home,” I whispered when the last embers burned low.
“Probably,” Maverick replied.
The problem was: I didn’t want to.
Still, I got up, and Maverick was slow to follow. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, and I made a point to stare at him as he did it. I was wasting time. We all knew it.
He stepped closer, and my heart lodged in my throat, my pulse skyrocketing. My skin buzzed with a kind of energy that only he could create in me—the kind that settled in my core. And inspired inappropriate thoughts that had my gaze falling to his lips.
Nope.
This was wrong.
We’d gone down this path once before, and it didn’t end well for either of us.
“I…. um…” I cleared my throat as I tried to come up with something smart to say—something that wasn’t thanks for the s’mores.
“Yeah,” he said, relieving me of my struggle.
“Okay,” I whispered, “then I’ll… see you later, I guess.”
Before I could move, his hand shot out to grab the hem of my shirt, giving it a firm tug that pulled me off balance. I stumbled forward, and my body bumped into his. His mouth crashed into mine, urgent and stealing the breath from my lungs.
Those first few seconds felt raw and clumsy—hard and almost unpracticed. The coarse hair of his beard scraped against my chin, and the quick rhythm of his breath mingled unevenly with mine. Our messy collision only lasted a heartbeat, but it left me desperate for more.
When he drew back, I chased him without thinking, and my lips brushed against his more softly this time.
We eased into a slower rhythm, his mouth warm and tasting like marshmallows and alcohol.
His arms slid around my back, drawing me closer against him.
I let myself explore him in return, my fingers tracing the taper of his waist and the firm planes of his chest. My hands drifted higher, skimming the line of his neck, before I tangled my fingers in his soft hair.
My body hummed with it all—the warmth of his body, the quiet rustle of fabric as we shifted, the way his breath hitched softly against my lips. He was everything all at once, and my nerves were on fire.
What started slow, deepened into something hungrier. His tongue nudged gently at the seam of my lips until I parted for him. I welcomed the sweep of his tongue over mine, the warmth and sweet flavor making me moan. My fingers tightened instinctively in his hair as I kissed him back harder.
We devoured one another, an old spark flaming back to life with every kiss and every touch. Our need and desire collided in a catastrophic way that knocked my world back on its axis. Five years adrift had brought me right back to this. Right back to him.
His forehead pressed against mine as he broke the kiss first. I breathed him in deep, letting everything about him consume me from the inside out. I craved every little sense of right that he brought me.
“Stay,” Maverick murmured. “Stay with me tonight. I know it’s nothing fancy like you’re used to, and I don’t have much—”
“I just want you,” I cut him off. The words settled heavy between us—an admission that gave life to a slew of complicated feelings and notions.
They were things we should’ve cared about and should’ve dealt with, but I didn’t want to.
I just wanted this moment with him. Whatever this thing was… I needed it.
I needed him.
“Oh, I’ve missed you, Harley,” he said, his voice cracking, and he kissed me again.