CHAPTER 112
maverick
We sat around the dining table, crammed in elbow to elbow, with piles of food spread out between us.
There was wine and beer—none of which bothered me.
I was full of good food, relaxed with my hand on Harley’s thigh, and happy.
So happy. This was what holidays were supposed to be.
Loud, messy, a little chaotic, and full of all the good things.
While every holiday with them had been great before, it was different with Harley here. Better.
Better in ways I hadn’t realized I was missing.
I wasn’t oblivious to the tension in the room where Harley was concerned.
It wasn’t obvious, but it was there in the quiet pauses and glances that lingered.
And I understood it. They were my family, and they were worried about me.
Not all of them shared Roxy’s enthusiasm for Harley and me getting back together. But they were trying.
And Harley… I knew he saw it. Despite that, he held his ground. He answered all the questions they threw his way with ease and grace. There was no tension or hesitation, as if he didn’t mind handling everything they threw at him.
It was a start—a good start all around.
“So you run a business for other businesses?” Waylon asked, frowning after Harley said he ran a business consultation company.
“I do.” Harley nodded. “It’s not as simple as it sounds. Some people aren’t prepared for what it takes to run a business.”
“Amen to that,” James muttered under his breath, making me chuckle. I knew that concept all too well.
“I just step in and give them the blueprints they need to run their business more efficiently,” he explained. “I can’t make them do anything, but I analyze their data, look for weak points, and come up with options for improving their business.”
Screaming from the playroom stopped our conversation dead. It wasn’t the usual kind either—no shrieking laughter, no roughhousing. This was pure and panicked.
What the hell?
“She’s dying!” Beau shrieked as he came running into the room. “She’s dying! We didn’t do anything!”
My blood ran cold.
Harley was already moving, his chair slamming back as he bolted from the table. I was right behind him with my heart dropping straight out of my chest as my mind struggled to catch up. Something was wrong—very wrong.
The playroom was in utter chaos. Chairs knocked over. Toys scattered. The kids were crying and shouting over each other. They were frozen in place or scrambling out of the way. But none of it fully registered.
All I could see was her.
Aria was half out of the chair and leaning over the table, her body shaking.
Her face—Jesus fuck—her face was swollen, blotchy, and red as it spread up from her neck.
Her lips were puffy, and her eyes were barely open.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
She attempted to drag in broken, desperate breaths that weren’t enough.
“On the floor,” Harley said, his voice cutting through everything. He grabbed her and pulled her down, not gently but not carelessly either. He was fast and efficient, as if unaffected by everything.
She fought him, her body bucking in panic, while he lay her down flat. One leg stretched over hers to keep her from thrashing.
“I’ve got you… I’ve got you…” he murmured, unshaken in a way that didn’t match the absolute horror of what was happening.
My brain lagged, like it couldn’t quite process what I was looking at. What was happening? I just knew it was bad, and I couldn’t make my body move fast enough.
Harley pulled something from his pocket—something small and compact—and stabbed her in the thigh with it.
She let out a strangled cry.
The other kids’ screams doubled, high and terrified. They fed off each other until the noise felt like it was clawing its way inside my skull.
“Out of the room!” I barked, the words ripping out of me before I thought about them. I moved on instinct, guiding the kids out of the room. They stumbled out in a rush with Millie and Roxy stepping in to help, but I barely saw them.
My attention snapped right back to Harley.
“I’ve got you,” he kept saying, over and over, like a lifeline. He rubbed a hand methodically over her thigh, massaging the spot where he’d injected her, like he’d done this before. Oh, God, he’d done this before. That thought twisted violently through my stomach.
And then… relief hit.
Her breath hitched hard, and suddenly, she pulled in a deep, ragged breath. Then another. The swelling in her throat eased just enough for her to drag in air. Each breath came with a sob, loud and broken and desperate.
My knees gave out before I could stop them. Someone was talking, but it all sounded distant and muffled. I just kept staring at them as he did his best to direct her breathing—to calm her.
“Maverick!” Harley shouted loud enough to pull me out of my trance. My gaze snapped to meet his. “Call 9-1-1. Now.”
“We already did, hon,” Millie interrupted quickly from behind me before I could say anything. “They’re on their way.”
“She’s allergic to peanuts,” Harley said over his shoulder, his voice controlled and painfully even. “What the hell did she eat?”
Fuck.
Peanuts.
That single word was a punch to the gut, knocking the air right out of my lungs. I’d forgotten.
I’d forgotten to tell Millie.
I had promised I would.
Fuck, this was on me.
“We fry the turkey in peanut oil every year,” Millie explained.
Harley glanced at me once—just once—before he gave Aria his full attention. It wasn’t quite anger, but his expression said everything. It was a dismissal, one that made the world tilt.
“Daddy,” Aria choked out between sobs. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed as the ambulance neared.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”