CHAPTER 32
maverick
I had to go home, but I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you slept well, and I’ll see you later… hopefully tonight. We have a business dinner thing I have to be at, so it’ll be late.
Love, Harley
Love… he wrote the word love.
Love, Harley.
Did that mean what I thought it meant? Was this some casual way of telling me that he loved me?
I stared hard at the little note I’d found on my counter as I willed it to give me the answers I wanted. I flipped the paper over on the off chance Harley had magically written more on the back—a… ah ha, gotcha kind of thing—but it was blank.
Fuck… did Harley love me?
Did I love Harley?
To be honest, I didn’t have a clue what love was.
What love was supposed to feel like. The closest thing I had to love was what I felt for my mom, but at the end of the day, I honestly couldn’t tell if I truly loved her or felt like I had to.
It certainly wasn’t a feeling I’d ever experienced, so I had nothing to base it on.
What I felt for Harley was nothing like that.
I liked Harley. I liked his part in my life. I liked his laugh and smile. I liked the way the world faded away when he was here. And I cared about him. I’d fuck up anyone who messed with him. His mother included if I thought it wouldn’t hurt him in the long run.
But did I love him? Was this intense, all-consuming feeling in my chest considered love?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t something I could dwell on.
I had too much shit to do—shit I welcomed because I wasn’t sure I was ready to face that.
I showered, got dressed, and skipped breakfast in favor of a quick drink and a granola bar for later.
I almost had my door locked and closed when I realized that Aidan was outside, just leaning against my car. Shit.
“What the fuck do you want?” I demanded. “And get off my goddamn car.”
He didn’t move when I tossed my jacket in the backseat.
I crossed my arms and squared my shoulders, waiting for him to say something.
He didn’t. Not right away. The douchebag just stared at me, eyes narrowed like he was scrutinizing me.
While he did, I assessed my car and tried to figure out whether or not he’d gone through it.
It wasn’t unlike him to help himself to my shit.
“Jesus fuck, Aidan,” I snapped. “Either say something or get out of the way. I have work.”
“A bus of tourists showed up,” he began.
“Jesus fuck,” I groaned. This whole stupid thing was about another job, and I wanted nothing to do with it. “Get fucked.”
“It’s a bunch of old people,” he said over me. “They look like tourists, which means they’ll act like tourists, and that means they’re going to end up at your fucking bar. I need you to do what you do with as many of them as you can.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not doing it.”
“What do you mean, you’re not doing it?”
“I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t think you were stupid, too.”
“Watch yourself, Maverick,” Aidan growled. I stood a little taller, waiting for whatever the backlash was. I could take it. “The answer you’re looking for is: I’ll get you whatever the fuck you need, Aidan.”
“No, I said what I said,” I retorted. “And I meant it.”
At that, he slowly pushed away from the trunk until he was towering over me. I lifted my chin and waited. Either he’d hit me first and then we’d fight, or we’d fight first and then he’d hit me. There was no way I could tell him no without it blowing up in my face.
Not without a good reason.
“You don’t get to tell me no,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet anger. The worst kind. “I’ve tolerated this arrangement of ours because you’ve pulled your weight, but you don’t get to tell me no. In case you forgot, you owe me.”
I rolled my eyes. I fucking owed him. God, I hated him. I hated that he actually thought keeping me alive as a kid was something I had to repay him for.
“And what are you going to do?” I shot back.
“Go back in time and not give me your scraps? You never took care of me. That’s just some lie you told yourself to justify all your bullshit and games.
We shared a goddamn house, and sometimes you let me eat the food you bought.
I raised myself! I don’t owe you a damn thing. ”
His nostrils flared, something dark passing over his expression. My chest tightened viciously as I held my breath, and I braced for the backlash. Braced for the hit. He stepped closer, and I rooted myself in place, ready to take whatever he gave me.
“Get me the information, Maverick, or I’ll make sure you regret it,” Aidan threatened, his voice so quiet that I almost didn’t hear him.
And then he walked away.
He didn’t hit me. Didn’t yell. Didn’t push the matter. He just threatened me and walked away. That didn’t ease the tension in my chest. If anything, it increased. Aidan’s anger was explosive, but Aidan’s rage was quiet and catastrophic.
I had no intention of giving him the information he wanted. I wanted out. Harley made me want out. Maybe it was a stupid thing to do or a stupid thing to want, but I did. Defying Aidan had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse, but some of my best decisions were made in the spur of the moment.
I stood by the trunk of my car and watched him leave.
Only when he was gone did I pop the trunk.
I flipped up the bottom rug to reveal a storage compartment.
The discrete location was the perfect place to hide a portable safe.
I kept the key with my car keys and made fast work of unlocking it.
An audible sigh escaped me when I saw the divided bundles of cash I kept hidden were still there.
I had just over six grand in small, easy-to-manage bundles. Maybe it was dumb, but the last thing I needed was for Aidan to find a bank statement. I’d never hear the end of it until I gave it to him.
The long-term plan was to put away ten grand—a large enough sum to start over somewhere new. Somewhere Aidan wasn’t. Somewhere I didn’t have to use people to survive. Theoretically, I wasn’t ready. I wanted to save more to make the transition easier.
But Harley was here. This thing we had was real enough for me to hope for more—for me to want more. I could make six grand work for me. For us.