CHAPTER 92
maverick
Iobsessed. I couldn’t help it. I obsessed about Harley.
About the brownie in a mug. About the last eighteen years.
Talking to Roxy had dragged up things I’d spent a lifetime shoving into the back corners of my mind—memories I’d packed away so neatly that I’d almost convinced myself they didn’t matter anymore.
Turns out… they mattered a lot.
And once that door cracked open, everything else followed. Eighteen years’ worth of memories, choices, missed changes. Every laugh, every fight, every moment that had built us up for the world to tear us apart.
Talking to Roxy had stirred all of it up again, and I couldn’t shut it off. I kept circling the same damn question like Duke chasing his own tail.
What if?
What if we hadn’t blown up the way we did?
What if I’d spoken up sooner?
What if he had?
What if we’d healed sooner?
What if we’d run away?
The what-ifs stacked up until they felt heavy in my chest, pressing against the life I’d spent years convincing myself was enough.
And I kept obsessing until it was impossible to sit with it.
One minute, I was circling a never-ending drain as I sat in my office, and the next, I was grabbing my keys without fully thinking it through.
I told myself I was just going for a drive—just a simple drive—but that was a lie.
My truck roared to life, and the headlights cut through the dark as I pulled onto the road.
The lake glimmered off to the side, but I barely noticed it.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel as mile after mile slipped past.
Every rational thought in my head told me to turn around.
This was a terrible idea. It was late. He had a kid sleeping in that house.
Showing up at his door in the middle of the night to unload eighteen years of unresolved feelings was exactly the kind of reckless bullshit I’d spent years trying to avoid.
And yet, I didn’t slow down. If anything, I pressed the gas a little harder.
The closer I got, the louder my pulse thudded in my ears. My mind kept trying to rehearse what I was going to say. Unfortunately, every version sounded worse than the last. By the time I turned down his drive, my chest was tight enough to make breathing difficult.
For a moment, I just sat there with the engine running, staring at the front of his house. A dim light flickered through one of the first-floor windows—probably the TV going. Was he watching a movie? Was I interrupting?
I could still leave. I could throw my truck in reverse, drive home, and find a different way to deal with this spiral. That’d be the smart thing to do.
But I didn’t do the smart thing.
Which was why I was banging on his door at eleven-thirty at night.
The light flipped on, and the door flew open.
Guilt flared up at the confused look on Harley’s face as the screen door swung open.
I stepped back as he joined me. Yeah, I’d interrupted something.
He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a cream shirt with the sleeves a little long around his wrists.
His hair was messy, and his eyes were tired behind his glasses.
“Maverick, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges like I’d woken him up. Fuck.
“I should hate you,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. It wasn’t exactly the opening line I’d planned, but it was the only thought my mind was capable of holding onto.
His brows furrowed together, and I kept going, trying to keep the momentum before I caved and ran away.
“I should hate you. After everything, I should. And honestly? You should hate me, too.” I huffed out a hard breath, my chest tightening further. “After everything that happened… we were awful together. And yet… I can’t. I can’t… I can’t hate you.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, walking the length of his porch once before turning back to him, the words tumbling out faster the longer I stood there.
“I can’t hate you. I tried—fuck, I really tried. Harley. I tried to hate you. I tried to move on. I tried to let go. I… I tried. And you know, for a while there, I told myself I had. I have a life, Harley. I have a good life. A happy life. I’m happy! I’m actually happy. Me! I’m happy.
“And… and… I’m happy, and then you just…
you’re just there, standing in that stupid barn, and it’s like the universe is laughing at me because I’m happy!
I told myself I was really fucking happy!
” I exclaimed as I paced, desperate to do something with the chaotic energy surging through me.
It didn’t help that Harley crossed his arms as he drew in a deep breath.
This was a mess. I was making a mess. “But you’re here…
you’re here, and everything is just… everything is a mess! A mess!
“And I like it! I like it. I like all of it! I like talking to you. I like hanging out with you. I like your kid. I like how it makes me feel. And that’s a problem because we’ve already proven that we’re terrible at this.
” I gestured wildly between us, my words coming out fast enough for me to trip over.
“We’re not good together, Harley. We’re actually terrible together.
“And so I keep telling myself it’s fine.
I’m fine! That this thing we have now—this friendship or whatever the hell it is—is enough.
That I should just leave it alone before we screw each other up all over again.
I don’t want to lose you! I don’t want to say the wrong thing!
And I tell myself that’s okay. And it’s okay.
It is okay. But then Roxy gets in my head about the what-ifs, and suddenly, I’m standing on your porch in the middle of the night like a complete idiot because apparently I just can’t—”
Harley took two quick steps in my direction, forcing my hips against the porch rail. His hands found my face, and his mouth landed on mine, shutting up my stressed-out rambling. I grabbed onto his shirt while the world tipped slightly under the heat of his mouth.
For a moment, my brain couldn’t process what was happening. All I knew was that his hands were on my face, and his mouth was on mine in a grounding kiss that cut straight through the chaos spiraling inside my head.
Everything fell silent inside me. The wild thudding of my heart, the frantic spinning thoughts, the panic clawing through me. All of it just… stopped.
And in the quiet, a realization flickered to life, slow and disorienting. Eighteen years ago, I’d done this exact same thing to him. It had worked back then.
Apparently, it still worked now.
As he broke the kiss, those blue eyes I’d missed more than I was willing to admit searched my face—gauging my response.
“You good?” Harley whispered.
“Huh…” I let out softly. “That works surprisingly well.”
“I don’t hate you, Mav,” he whispered. “Even in our worst moments, I never hated you. I just loved you more than I knew how to put into words.”
I swallowed hard. His fingers drifted down my neck and over my shoulders. He gripped the collar of my jacket, fidgeting with it as we stood there.
“But I can’t do this right now,” he continued, and my heart dropped out. “Not here. Not with Aria asleep in the house. This isn’t a conversation to have right now.”
“Oh.” That was a fair point. My fingers tightened on his shirt, and I tested the waters as I pulled his body flush to mine. He went without hesitation, which was a positive at least. The warmth of his body almost made me moan—almost. I bit it back, determined to hold it together.
“Let me take you to dinner,” Harley said.
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date.” He nodded. “We can talk, and we can figure out what comes next. I can’t promise anything, Mav. And that’s nothing against you. That’s just being realistic. A lot has changed, and we have a lot to figure out.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” I whispered. I could be okay with that. I had to be okay with that. He was right. We weren’t the same people—not by a long shot. And he had Aria. We had a lot of little ins and outs to figure out if we wanted to make this work.
Still, that didn’t settle the uneasy feeling in my chest. It was a lot to process, and my mind was struggling to catch up. It’d be okay.
It had to be okay, right?
Before I could say something more, Harley leaned in and kissed me once. Twice. Three times. There was no urgency in it. No need to ground me or pull me back from the edge. It was slower—intentional. His lips brushed against mine with a tenderness that made my body melt.
His hand slid up and into my hair as his lips parted slightly in a silent invitation.
My tongue stroked his in a burst of something sweet that made me moan.
Each movement was a silent conversation of sighs and soft touches as we re-explored one another without haste.
My fingers splayed over his sides, digging into his muscles, anchoring his body to mine.
I felt him everywhere, and my nerves hummed with the contact.
When he finally eased back, it was by inches. His forehead rested against mine, our breath mingling in shared exhales.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”
I smiled as I kissed him again because he wasn’t the only one.