CHAPTER 54
harley
Somewhere after midnight, I woke up and, despite trying, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I was surprised I’d slept as much as I had. Sleep hadn’t been my friend in years.
Unfortunately, that left me awake with the understanding that I’d had a panic attack in front of Maverick. How ridiculous was I? I couldn’t even have a conversation with him without turning into a spectacle.
I didn’t want to know what he thought of me. But I still had to face him for at least a few more weeks while we took care of the house.
“Fuck,” I groaned, dragging a hand over my face.
This whole trip was turning out to be way more than I’d anticipated.
The heightened anxiety as I lived outside of my element was unexpected.
Chronic anxiety I was used to, but Vivienne hated my panic attacks—called them a nuisance.
I’d somehow managed to learn how to hold them in until I was completely alone.
So why the hell had I lost that control around Maverick?
Whatever the reason, I needed to get it together. We couldn’t be stuck together for weeks with me having panic attacks every day.
Unable—or maybe unwilling—to go back to sleep, I climbed out of bed and got changed, finding something comfortable to wear for a few hours while I rummaged through boxes. If I was going to be up, I might as well be useful. I hurried downstairs and stopped in the entryway.
The living room was empty. All the boxes were gone. It was dusty and in need of a deep clean, but the boxes were gone. Had Maverick done this?
I found the kitchen emptied of buried garbage and boxes. The counters, sink, and island were wiped down, and even the refrigerator had been cleaned out. Sitting on the island was a small pile of sour candy packages, along with a note. I nudged them aside and picked up the piece of paper to read it.
Kitchen & living room done.
Boxes are bundled outside for recycling.
Cleaned the kitchen too.
Put one of the candy bags in your pocket. Sour candies are good for helping stop anxiety attacks—saw it on the internet and did my own research.
Text if you need anything—my number is on the back.
See you tomorrow.
-Mav
I turned the paper over immediately to see if he’d actually put his number there. Sure enough, he had. My chest constricted slowly at the gesture—at all of it.
Why? Why had he done any of it?
I leaned against the counter, running my fingers over the edges of the torn notepaper as I read and kept re-reading the note. I tried to find the hidden message between the lines—to figure out what else Maverick was trying to tell me. There had to be something.
“I never wanted you, and I never will.”
That was the last thing he had said to me… his voice angry and unforgiving. They were words seared into my mind—ones I couldn’t forget, even if I tried. The ache in my chest grew as anxiety clawed its way to the surface, dragging up old history with it.
What the hell had changed after six years? Or had it? Was this just another way to hurt me? I wanted to believe Maverick wasn’t like that, especially in light of how he’d gone out of his way to clear up my house. That wasn’t in his job description.
Every thought compounded on the next, threatening to take me out with another panic attack. I grabbed one of the bags of sour candy, my hands shaking as I tore it open, and I popped one quickly in my mouth. The instant sour bite made me cringe.
Holy fuck.
The sound I made was obscene as I rushed through chewing it. My body did a full shudder. Yeah, sour was definitely not for me.
I blew out a long breath as the taste subsided. And in doing so, I realized that the panic in my chest had lessened considerably. While it was still there, buzzing incessantly, it was manageable.
Shit. It worked.
I grabbed the candy bag and stared at it. Who knew sour candy was an almost magic cure to anxiety? Shoving the bag in my pocket for later, I pulled out my phone. Before I could think too hard about it, I started a text to Maverick.
Thank you.
MAV: You’re welcome.
You didn’t have to.
MAV: I know. Get some sleep, Harley. I’ll see you in the morning.
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about that. Was I supposed to look forward to seeing him again? To spending time with him?
I didn’t know the answer to that.