Chapter 8
Maverick
Earlier, I'd sent a text to Belle to see how she was doing. That should have been the end of my obligation. She'd said she was fine, and I didn't need to worry about her. Instead, I worried she was overdoing it at work and not taking care of herself.
I'd gotten a glimpse into Belle yesterday, and it had been interesting. I knew more about her family, but it wasn't a complete picture. The question I couldn't seem to get out of my head was why she was wearing my hoodie.
Didn't women wear their boyfriends' clothes? But I wasn't that. I'd been nothing but a jerk to her, other than yesterday. So it didn't make any sense to me why she'd be wearing it. Unless she was so sick and delirious that she'd worn the first thing she found in her drawer.
That was the likely explanation. It didn’t mean that she liked wearing my sweatshirt.
Tonight, I went to my parents' house for a family dinner.
Belle had mentioned that Aspen had stopped by to inquire about a job.
I hoped that didn't mean that Aspen was going to dig for information about why I was at Belle's apartment when she was sick.
I didn't want her asking questions when I didn't have any answers.
When I arrived, I went to the kitchen where everyone congregated. Mom always put out snacks for us. She'd arranged crackers, cheese, and fruit on a cutting board on the island. By the time I arrived, it was picked through.
"Taking care of any sick women today?" Aspen asked with an amused raise of her brows.
"No." I grabbed a stack of crackers and shoved them in my mouth.
Mom frowned. "What's Aspen talking about?"
"Belle didn't open the store on time yesterday. One of her customers asked me what was going on, so I checked on her. She had a stomach virus and was up all night puking, so I called Aspen to open the store for her."
"Well, that was nice of you," Mom said.
Aspen smirked. "He stayed to help Belle. He even went grocery shopping and cooked her dinner."
"Soup. I cooked her soup because she was sick."
Mom smiled. "You cooked her my soup?"
"Yes," I grumbled, not happy that Aspen was announcing this in front of everyone. The rest of the conversation had died down, and everyone was watching us.
Aspen smiled. "He stayed all day to make sure she was okay."
Is that what Belle had told her? "She didn't have anyone taking care of her. I didn't want to leave her alone."
Mom patted my hand. "That was very sweet of you."
I grimaced. "I did the right thing. It wasn't sweet."
Mom laughed. "Of course it was."
Morgan punched me in the arm. "Are you sweet on Belle?"
"She's annoying, and I can't wait for this job to be over." So far, I'd seen her in her pajamas twice and listened while she showered. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to sneak a peek into the bathroom. The fact that she was sick kept my baser instincts in check.
"I don't know. Taking care of a woman when she's sick leads to other things, like relationships and engagements," Lincoln said, throwing his arm around Penny.
"You're a doctor. You were making a house call. This wasn't anything like what happened between you two." I wasn't even looking for a relationship.
"Let me guess. Did you go into her apartment and find her on the floor?" Lincoln asked.
"Yes." Suddenly my mouth was very dry.
"Maybe you helped her into bed?" Lincoln continued.
"I did what anyone would do."
"Well, yeah, but not what you would normally do," Aspen said thoughtfully.
"I'm not a jerk—" At everyone's raised brows, I quickly added, "All the time."
"You kind of are," Morgan said, and I shot him an irritated glare. It was his job to be annoying, but that didn't mean I had to like it. I shouldn't have come. I should have known that Aspen would make something of nothing. That was her job as a little sister, to be as annoying as possible.
"Stop giving Maverick a hard time," Mom said.
Dad came into the room. "What's this about Maverick being nice?"
"I'm always nice," I insisted, even though I knew I wasn't. I tolerated people, and I kept to myself.
I didn't go out of my way to take care of sick women.
It was out of character, and I couldn't reconcile it with the way I'd been feeling about Belle.
I was supposed to be annoyed by her. She was a spoiled brat who expected people to take care of her.
But the reality was that she was alone, and she hadn't bothered to call anyone for help.
She was going to open the store herself, even though she was in no shape to work.
"She didn't feel like she could call her mother or even a friend?" Mom asked me when everyone else started talking about other stuff.
"That's what she said. She said her mother wouldn't have come, and her former high school friends aren't the best."
Aspen had sidled closer. "I always wondered why she was part of that crowd. She was so nice and always had her head in a book."
"She wore the right clothes and came from a good family," I said, rolling up salami around a slice of cheese and taking a bite.
"You don't ever know what someone's dealing with. You're just assuming her life was blessed. But you can't know that for sure."
I took a water Dad handed me and twisted off the cap. "I suppose you're right. I might have misjudged her."
"She's going to let me work a few hours a week at the bookstore," Aspen said.
Dad's brow furrowed. "You need another job?"
"You know I've always wanted to work at a bookstore," Aspen said with a roll of her eyes.
Dad shook his head. "You've always wanted to do everything. That's your problem. You've never settled on a career."
That indecision was why she'd come home from college a few years ago without a degree. Her lack of direction drove our parents crazy.
Aspen's lip curled. "I'm doing just fine. I don't need a career."
Mom raised her brows at that declaration. "You need some sort of direction."
Aspen rolled her eyes yet again. "We were talking about Maverick. Not me."
"Maverick owns two businesses and is doing quite well for himself," Dad said reasonably.
"I'm doing just fine," Aspen said again.
"She just needs more time to figure out what she wants in life," Lincoln said easily.
Aspen grumbled, "I don't need time to figure out anything." Then she slipped away to play with Ayla, who'd just arrived with Hudson and Angela.
As much as I appreciated the diversion in conversation and focus on Aspen, I felt bad for her.
She was the youngest and the only one of us who didn't seem to know what she wanted to do.
She was content to work several jobs without any end goal in mind.
But she was independent, living in an apartment above one of the shops in Christmas Town.
"She came through for Belle yesterday," I said by way of defense. "She worked the entire day so Belle could rest."
"She's responsible. I just wish she had more direction. I worry about her," Mom said, and Dad moved closer, putting his arm around her.
They wanted their kids to be settled and happy.
I could understand that. But so far, Lincoln, Ford, and Hudson had found significant others.
The rest of us were running successful businesses.
Only Aspen seemed rudderless. But maybe that's just who she was.
And I wondered how the pressure from Mom to be someone else had affected her over the years.
There was extra scrutiny on her as the youngest child and the only girl.
I'd gotten into trouble to gain my parents' attention. They'd largely let it go, expecting me to eventually grow up. They were right, but I would have liked some more attention at the time.
That knowledge had come with years of maturity though. I could see things clearly now. I pulled out my phone.
Maverick: Are you resting now that the store is closed for the day?
An image came through of Belle's stocking feet on the coffee table, another renovation show on in the background with the caption:
Belle: Yes, Dad.
That was interesting. Why was she referring to me as a father? Was I overly protective of her? Maybe. But she hadn't seen herself passed out on the floor of the bathroom with the room reeking of sickness. She didn't experience the awful realization that she had no one to take care of her.
Why was I texting her now?
Maverick: Aspen's giving me shit about yesterday.
Belle: She asked me a lot of questions too.
Belle: But don't worry. I assured her that there was nothing going on. That I annoy you.
That might have been true at one time, but it felt more like a story I was telling myself now. She didn't irritate me yesterday. I felt nothing but concern for her and her well-being. Her insistence that she annoyed me didn't sit right.
Should I tell her that she didn't annoy me? But when I saw her on my job site in bare feet and lingerie, I was irritated. I didn't want the guys to see her in that state, and I didn't trust myself to be near her when she was half naked.
A small voice in my head reminded me that I wanted her for myself. I didn't want to share her with anyone else. And I was annoyed because I was starting to crave her.
I'd worked so hard over the years to stay away from her. I couldn't deviate from that goal now. Nothing had changed since high school, even if I'd seen her in a different light. And maybe her life wasn't as easy as I assumed it had been.
A small hand curled around mine. "Maverick? Can we play a game?"
There was something about this little girl that softened everything inside me. It was impossible to be annoyed by her.
"What do you want to play?" I asked as she guided me toward the living room where Mom kept our childhood games.
I caught Aspen's knowing smirk. She thought it was funny that Ayla preferred Morgan and me over Mom and Aspen. I think it had something to do with us being big and gruff. She wanted to soften us up.
She literally could get me to do anything. Last time we were here, I played a game where I wore glasses with a pencil on my nose. The goal of the game was to draw something with it and have everyone else guess what it was. It was hilarious and totally worth embarrassing myself to hear her giggle.
Ayla plopped on the floor next to Morgan. "We found a new game."
This one had marbles and levers; the point was to sink everyone else's marbles while yours remained on top. "I remember this one."
"Aspen used to keep it in her room and play with it for hours," Morgan said.
Ayla frowned. "You can play with it by yourself?"
"She was fascinated by the marbles and the levers," I said.
"We didn't play with her much," Morgan added.
"Why?" Ayla persisted.
"Because she was the youngest and a girl," Morgan said.
Ayla tipped her head to the side. "Why did that matter?"
"She was annoying," I said simply.
She frowned. "Will I not like a sister or a brother either?"
I shot a panicked look at Morgan.
"You'll love your brother or sister. We were jerks, but that doesn't mean that your sibling will be."
"Then I should want a sister because boys are jerks?"
"Definitely not. What Maverick is trying to say, but he's being an idiot about, is that you're going to be a better sibling than we ever were. You'll have an amazing relationship with your little brother or sister."
She smiled. "Babies are so cute. I just want to squeeze them."
That sounded a bit violent. "You have to be gentle with them at first."
She nodded seriously. "I can be gentle."
I sighed, crisis averted. If we convinced Ayla to hate her future sibling, Hudson would have kicked my ass.
Morgan organized the marbles by color. "What color do you want to be?"
This I could handle. Rules and instructions for a child's game. No one should ask me for advice on siblings or love. I wasn't a good example for any of that. I'd never had a true long-term relationship. I pushed everyone away, assuming that I wasn't the guy for them.
I was fine for a good time, but for anything long-term, I wasn't the one. I didn't need to wait for a woman to tell me that. It was something I already knew about myself. I was destined to disappoint them.
Look at what I'd done to Belle. I'd stood her up. I'd hurt her. That was unforgivable, even though I'd apologized. No matter how good my reasons were, it was unforgiveable.
Ayla snapped her fingers in front of my face. "You have to set up your marbles."
They'd already arranged their marbles on the board, so I quickly followed suit. I needed to focus on Ayla and not whatever was going on with Belle.
I'd go back to being a jerk. I didn't need a rule book for that. Hopefully, she'd avoid me, the project would be over soon, and then I could go back to not seeing her.
I tried not to think about the compression in my chest at the idea of not watching her through the windows.
Everything would go back to the way it was before. It was what I always wanted, to be far away from Belle.