Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Put Me In My Place
Cheyenne
Maverick didn’t get back until nearly midnight.
I’d given up pacing on the front porch to raid the fridge in hopes of finding something to stress-eat, but it didn’t help.
When that failed, I moved on to sulking in the tub until the water turned cold, to sitting on the front porch, to finally contemplating going out and finding him.
I heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel before his dark silhouette emerged from the foggy night like a wraith. Even from a distance, I could feel the weight of his stare.
Every inch of me went on alert as I took him in. There was something…different about him. Not wild. No, there wasn’t anything wild about Maverick, but there was something free about him. Like a part of him had been locked up and caged, and now that cage had been opened.
I shivered.
He didn’t speak as he walked past the trucks and onto the pavement.
He didn’t speak as he stopped before me, hooking a finger beneath my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze.
Desire and want and need blazed in his eyes as his mouth hovered just inches from mine.
My body reacted on instinct, my heart fluttering in my chest and desire igniting low in my belly—I was helpless against him.
But then the sharp tang of blood filled my nose, and I pulled out of his grip, my gaze going to his hands. Blood coated his knuckles.
“What happened?” I asked, gently grabbing his hand and examining the broken skin.
He shrugged but made no attempt to move his hand out of my grasp. “I was workin’ out.”
My mind went to the punching bag in the gym above the hay loft. I reached for his other hand, unsurprised to find the flesh ripped open there too. Shaking my head, I looked up at him.
He offered me another shrug, finally pulling his hands away. “I’m fine.”
Grabbing one of his hands once more, I drew him to me needing the comfort of his familiar touch. “Maverick, I wanted to apologize for earl—”
“Chey, you don’t gotta.”
Annoyance bristled in my chest. “No, goddamn it! Stop.” His brow rose before I continued.
“Stop justifyin’ my actions. You were right, I wasn’t payin’ attention.
I wasn’t in a good mindset, and if you hadn’t noticed yet, I don’t do well with people tellin’ me what I can and can’t do.
” I inhaled deeply and blew out my breath.
“I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. I just—when I get upset, I run away.”
Maverick brushed his fingers against the back of my hand before grabbing it and pulling me closer. “Can I talk now?” he asked, the barest whisper of a teasing smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, even though his words were innocent and earnest.
I rolled my eyes, biting back a grin as I pressed my hands to his chest, reveling in the feel of his strong, steady heartbeat. “Yes, go ahead and say what you gotta say.”
“Truth is, I coulda handled things a bit better myself as well. I got scared the minute I saw that filly charge you and I just…reacted. I’m sorry for talkin’ to you like that.”
I offered him a soft, reassuring smile. “All’s forgiven, cowboy.”
“I’m even more sorry for what happened after. The Ashleigh situation, sendin’ you away like that. All of it.” His hold on me tightened—almost like he was afraid to let me go.
“You meant everythin’ you said to her earlier? You’re sure this is what you want?”
As much as I wanted him and as happy as I was that he chose me over that bitch, a part of me was terrified he’d change his mind.
And what was worse was I wouldn’t really blame him.
I couldn’t even imagine what raising someone’s baby who wasn’t mine would be like.
To be honest, I couldn’t even begin to fathom how I was going to raise my own baby.
I wasn’t the motherly type.
Not like Charlie, who’d stepped into the role of mom to Cason with such ease. She wore pregnancy so well in spite of the constant sickness she still went through even though she’d entered the second trimester.
Maverick didn’t seem in the least bit worried about that though. He’d be the most amazing father, and I had no doubt he would love my baby like it was his very own.
His gaze burned with love as he tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I’ve never been more sure of anythin’ in my life, Chey. I want you…” He settled his other hand on my stomach, his gaze flicking down to my bump and back up again. “I want this baby. I want to raise her up on this ranch with you.”
Tears pricked in my eyes even as a smile played on my lips. “I love you.”
The desire and need in his gaze sparked brighter. I shivered in anticipation. He dipped his mouth toward mine, hovering just a breath away. “I love you too,” he whispered, before kissing me. Slowly. Deeply.
My arms slid up around his neck, and I leaned into him as I rode the high of his kisses, his intoxicating touch. I’d never felt something so intense, so…raw. For someone as even-keeled and calm as Maverick was, when he loved…fuck, he loved hard.
It was nothing but fierce passion. Burning desire. Scorching touches and searing kisses.
I kissed him until my lungs screamed for air, only pulling away long enough to take a breath before pressing my lips to his once more. I wanted him. All of him. Every day for the rest of forever.
Forever.
The realization should have given me pause. I’d never wanted forever with someone. But as he kissed me breathless…as he knotted his fingers in my hair and ground his body against mine, I realized I wanted forever with him.
I broke the kiss, my chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. “More,” I whispered.
It was his undoing.
It was nearly two in the morning when we finally collapsed into our bed, curling up against one another underneath the blankets. Maverick wrapped an arm around me, and my fingers found the familiar mottled flesh of his scars, stroking them gently, lovingly.
I thought of Ashleigh’s words earlier, an ember of anger flickering to life in my chest.
How could she have said something so incredibly awful about them? How could she find them repulsive when they were a testament to his strength? A reminder that he’d danced with death and won.
His scars were beautiful, and the fact that dumb bitch made him feel like they were anything but made tears line my eyes.
Pressing my lips to the scarred flesh, I kissed him. Again, and again. Over and over. Inch by inch. I poured every bit of love in me into those soft caresses, hoping he understood what I was so desperately trying to show him.
That I loved every bit of him. Scars and all.
When I turned over to face him, intent to kiss the ones marring his chest, unshed tears shone in his eyes.
“You are beautiful, Maverick,” I whispered, continuing my trail of kisses.
He kissed me. Softly. Whisper-soft, and when he pulled away, I watched twin tears slide down his cheeks.
“She made you cover them up, didn’t she?” I asked, settling myself closer as I laid on my side and faced him, all the while making sure to continue stroking his scars.
He heaved a deep, shaky sigh. “Not exactly,” he murmured, his fingers finding the side of my belly and drawing lazy patterns on my skin. “I was already self-conscious of them before her, but…well, I think they scared her.”
I fought back an eye roll. She’d never deserved him. Dumb bitch.
“I want you to promise me somethin’.”
He nodded, a silent request to go on.
“I never want you to hide them from me. Ever.”
Another nod.
“I mean it, Maverick. The strength you showed today barin’ your scars for us all…” Tears stung in my eyes. I pressed a kiss to his lips, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes and whisper, “I am so fuckin’ proud of you.”
His lips pulled up into the faintest ghost of a smile. “I promise.”
The next few months passed by in a complete blur—along with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years.
Everything changing so swiftly I hardly had a chance to get used to anything.
Pregnancy was weird in that way. It felt both so short and so long at the same time.
I was closing in on thirty-four weeks. Thirty-four weeks pregnant.
And they’d flown for me. Granted, I didn’t know for ten of those weeks that I was in fact pregnant. But still…
What was even crazier was for the most part, it had been easy. Like surprisingly easy. Which was completely opposite of poor Charlie.
That was another weird thing about pregnancy.
How different it was for each person. Charlie was only a couple weeks behind me, but the morning sickness never left.
In fact, it only seemed to get worse. She was tired all the time, constantly getting headaches or feeling nauseous.
Then here I was, riding horses, breaking babies, and going about my day like it was just any other Thursday.
But through all the sickness and lethargy, she smiled and laughed like it was no big deal. I doubted I’d be quite as optimistic if I were in her position. And to be honest, I’d probably resent me for having such an easy pregnancy in comparison.
“How could I hate you?” Charlie asked, grabbing a fresh baked sweet roll off the baking sheet. They were one of the only things that didn’t make her sick, and it gave Maverick the excuse of working on his bread making skills.
I swear…I’d never met a man who enjoyed learning and trying new things as much as Maverick.
He was always—I mean, always—doing something.
Working on the truck, cleaning or messing around with tack and bits and bridles, learning how to shoe horses, fixing repairs around the barn, working on the nursery, learning new recipes to cook and bake.
The list was endless. All the while, ensuring he paid attention to me, to Cash, as well as practicing for rodeos and jackpots, and giving Cason lessons, and helping Charlie whenever Ryder was gone.
It was insane.