CHAPTER 72
harley
The rain kept falling long after his taillights disappeared. For a while, I stood there in the road, soaked and shaking, with some irrational hope that he’d come back. That we’d talk and figure this out. That somehow there was a magical fix to all of this.
There wasn’t.
Eventually, the cold became too much. My fingers had gone numb, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. I dragged myself back up the drive and inside in a daze, each step heavy and unsteady.
Water pooled at my feet as I stood in the entryway.
If it sat unattended, it’d ruin the floors, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The world felt broken and dull around the edges as everything inside me kept shattering into pieces.
My legs carried me to the only place untouched by Maverick—the only place that felt safe away from the memories of him.
My father’s office had remained locked up since he died.
My mother never went in there, and I wasn’t allowed.
In truth, I had no idea what to expect when I opened the door, but it remained unchanged.
The massive mahogany desk was covered in papers, books, and dust while two leather couches sat across from it.
One wall was a long bookshelf filled with books, awards, and a single photo frame.
Me and him at the beach on our vacation away from everything.
I picked it up, running my thumb over the dusty frame. He looked so genuinely happy in the picture, and so did I. I couldn’t remember another time when I felt that happy. That safe. That… free.
Why couldn’t life be that simple?
I sank down to the couch as my legs gave out. The adrenaline had burned off, and the panic had receded. All that remained was the hollowed-out emptiness so vast that it scared me. There was nothing but the words Maverick had said.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
My eyes watered all over again as they burned. I dropped the picture next to me as my shoulders shook with silent sobs. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, but that didn’t stop the tears. They came anyway, hot and relentless.
I’d lost him.
Not just tonight.
For good.
And it was my fault. There was nothing I could do to fix this. Nothing I could do to salvage it. It was over.
That realization weaseled its way into a dangerous place deep inside me. I had spent my entire life trying to be what everyone expected of me. A good son. A ruthless businessman. A respectable husband.
And in trying to hold all of that together, I had completely destroyed the only good thing in my life.
Maverick deserved so much better than the likes of me, and yet, I still clung to him with the delusion that I could have something with him—something that outweighed all the awful things I’d added to my prison.
What was left in the aftermath of my destruction? A marriage built on obligation and a wife who hated me. A business I couldn’t stand, while I surrounded myself with people I loathed. A life I wanted nothing to do with.
My chest tightened viciously as dark thoughts crept in, quiet and ruthless. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was all I deserved.
And if it was? What then? What was I supposed to do?
I sighed heavily, the tears falling harder. I was so tired of this life. It was a burden I didn’t want to carry anymore. I envied my father. Truly envied him. At least he knew peace where he was. At least he didn’t have to fight day in and day out to survive this life.
I wanted that quiet and that peace, no matter the cost.
I sucked in a shaky breath as something… final settled inside me. Something determined and sordid. I just couldn’t do this anymore.
I had nothing left to give.
Nothing left to fight with.
Nothing… I just… I had nothing.
Vibrating against my thigh had me scrambling with a tiny shred of hope. But when I pulled it out, it wasn’t Maverick’s name on the phone. It was Vivienne’s. I answered because I’d rather deal with her now than her wrath later if I put her off.
“What?” I whispered, my voice sounding hollow to me.
“The surrogate is pregnant,” Vivienne said.
My stomach dropped out. Fuck. Every part of me had selfishly hoped that it wouldn’t take—that we’d be stuck in the endless IVF cycle until we inevitably gave up.
“Did you hear me?” she demanded, her voice dragging me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Enough is enough, Lee. You need to get your ass home. We have events to plan,” she snapped.
Events to plan… not a baby to prepare for.
Events.
Not a baby.
The words created a clean line in the sand. I let her voice drone on, sharp and efficient, as she listed off guests and venues, optics and expectations. She spoke like they were the only things that mattered—as if life was something to be staged and appraised by strangers who didn’t care about us.
And for a moment, while she prattled on about announcements and dinners and more bullshit I wanted no part of, I saw my entire childhood replay in my head.
I grieved a childhood where being a kid wasn’t a possibility.
Where my family’s status meant more than the fact that I existed.
There was never room for softness or mistakes.
No room for laughter or fun. I had been groomed, trained, and sculpted into something presentable long before I understood what that meant.
My wants were unimportant, my feelings were inconvenient, and my family’s expectations came above everything else.
Status over self.
Image over truth.
Expectations over happiness.
And now I was about to bring a child into that?
As I listened to Vivienne reduce something monumental to scheduling conflicts and public perception, I saw the future laid out in front of me like a perfectly set table…
a nursery decorated to match the house’s cold aesthetic…
a birthday guestlist curated for influence…
a child introduced to the world with an identity chosen for them rather than one they could make for themselves.
God, what the hell had I been thinking?
“Are you listening?” Vivienne asked loudly.
“Yeah,” I told her. “I’ll be home tomorrow. I just… yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You better be.”
The phone went dead, and I tossed it onto the couch next to me.
The silence that followed was thick and unforgiving.
I’d spent my whole life walking the path laid out for me.
I followed the script like I was supposed to and met expectations before they were ever spoken. Freedom had become an illusion.
Could I do that to an innocent child? Could I take from them all the things that had been taken from me? Could I deny my own child the kind of life I desperately craved? The one where I could have been with Maverick instead of living in a prison.
Fuck, I didn’t know what to do anymore.