Chapter 45 Maverick
maverick
. . .
One month later
Ihold grudges, and I’m not exactly proud of holding one over Amelia, but fuck, she hurt me.
Since my injury and retirement announcement, she’s been there for me every day since.
She hasn’t ran, and I know it's hard for her to do all this, so I admire her effort to grow and learn from her mistakes.
Amelia’s on the other end of the couch, curled up small, Rex purring in her lap as if he’s mocking me with how easily he steals her warmth. She hasn’t said a word in over an hour, just sitting there, stealing glances at me with her green eyes glinting in the TV light.
“You wrecked me, Amelia.”
The words rush out of me before I can stop them. Her head snaps up, eyes wide, her lips parting as if she’s about to defend herself.
“Mav—”
“No.” My voice is sharper than I intend, but I can’t let her cut me off this time. “I need you to hear me.”
I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, my hands clenched into fists.
“I bent over backwards for you. I gave you everything I had. My time, my home, my brothers, my entire damn life. I let you into parts of me I don’t reveal to anyone else.
And when you looked at me and said it was fake, that it was all some deal—” My voice cracks, my vision blurs.
“You gutted me, dollface. You fucking gutted me.”
Her eyes shimmer, her chin trembling. “I know,” she whispers. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”
“I wanted to believe you loved me,” I rasp, shaking my head. “But all I could hear was you calling it pretend.”
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the muffled commentary of the muted game highlights. My pulse thunders in my ears.
She swiftly moves, sliding down the couch and crawling across the cushion until she’s right in front of me, her knees brushing mine. Her hands lift, trembling, cupping my face as if I’m fragile, even though I’ve only ever been told to be unbreakable.
Her green eyes lock onto mine, fierce even through her tears.
“It wasn’t pretend,” she whispers. “Not for me. I was terrified, Maverick. I was terrified of how much I felt for you. Jax made me believe love was just cruelty dressed up as devotion, and when you loved me so big, so loud, I panicked. I thought if I ruined it first, it wouldn’t hurt as bad when you left me. ”
Her tears slide hot over my skin, dropping to my chest. “But you didn’t leave.
You stayed. Even when I threw everything back in your face, you stayed.
And I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.
But I want to. God, I want to. Because I love you.
” Her voice cracks, splintering apart. She presses her forehead against mine, whispering it again.
“I love you, Maverick. I love you so much it terrifies me. And I’m done running from it. I’m done running from you.”
My whole body shudders. For a month, I’ve been clutching my anger like armor, telling myself I needed space. But hearing her say that—raw, trembling, no walls left? I realize I forgave her the moment she walked into that hospital room and begged me to fight.
I grab her wrists, holding her hands against my face, my own tears spilling over.
“You don’t know what that does to me,” I choke out.
“Hearing you say that.” My forehead presses harder against hers, our breaths tangling.
“I love you too, baby,” I whisper, steady this time, every ounce of truth in me poured into the words.
“I’ve loved you since the second you walked into my life with that sharp mouth and those walls so high nobody else dared to climb them.
And I’ll love you when you’re eighty and still scowling at me. ”
She lets out a wet, broken laugh, her chest shaking against mine.
I hold her tighter, gripping her waist. “And listen to me, if you run again, I’ll find you. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter how. I’ll find you in every lifetime, Amelia. You’ve been it for me since the first moment I laid my eyes on you. There’s no version of me that doesn’t end up with you.”
Her sob rips free as she clutches the back of my neck. “Maverick…”
“I mean it,” I rasp, my chest heaving, forehead pressed to hers. “You’re my forever. Football, fame, all of it—it doesn’t mean shit without you. You’re it. You’ve always been it.”
And when her mouth crashes into mine, I kiss her back with everything I have. After weeks of pain, a month of silence, and love I thought I’d lost—all of it surges between us.
For the first time since the hit, since the hospital, since she tore me open with her fear, I finally feel whole again.
Because she’s here.
I can’t stop touching her.
It feels like fucking centuries since I last had her.
My fingertips graze the ink on her arm, tracing the dark sweep of her blackout sleeve, the sharp contrast with her pale skin. I kiss the inside of her wrist, then follow the trail upward.
“What do they all mean?” I murmur against her shoulder, brushing my lips over the butterfly inked there. My voice is low, rough from holding too much in for too long. “You’ve got a whole damn story written on your skin, dollface, and I want to know every chapter.”
She stiffens slightly under me, the way she always does when I press too close to the soft parts of her. I kiss just under her jaw, coaxing. “Tell me.”
Her fingers thread into my hair, tugging lightly, and for a moment, I think she’ll push me off, joke it away like she always does. But then her chest rises, falls, and she whispers, “The butterflies…”
I still, waiting.
“They’re for freedom.” Her voice cracks, but she keeps going, nails dragging across my scalp.
“After Jax, after everything… I felt like I was trapped in an endless cocoon. Like I’d never get out, never be more than the broken girl he left behind.
Butterflies reminded me that I could. That someday, I’d grow my wings and fly the fuck away. ”
My chest clenches so hard it hurts.
She swallows, her voice barely audible. “I put them on my skin so I’d never forget. So even on the days when I hated myself, when I couldn’t look in the mirror, I’d see them and remember I was still meant to change. To be more than what he made me.”
I lift my head, my throat burning, and meet her eyes. They shine in the dim light, vulnerability written across her face like a confession.
“Amelia…” I whisper, kissing the edge of one butterfly, then the next.“You’re not trapped anymore. You’ll never be trapped again. Not while I’m here.”
Her lips tremble, a single tear sliding down her cheek, and I kiss that too. “You’ve already got your wings, dollface. And I swear to God, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt how far you can fly.”
She lets out a broken laugh, her hands fisting in my hair, pulling me back down to her mouth. And when I kiss her this time, it’s not desperate, it’s reverent. Like I’m trying to drink her soul right into mine.
Because now I know what her tattoos mean.
Now I know what she’s carried.
And I’ll worship every inch of her until she believes she’s more than her scars.
Her lips are still trembling under mine when I shift, pressing her deeper into the sheets. My hand trails down her arm, following the sweep of ink until I reach her ribs. I pause, my thumb brushing over the delicate line of another butterfly etched there.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur against her mouth, kissing her slowly, savoring the taste of her. “But not as beautiful as you.”
She lets out a soft sound, half laugh, half sigh, and her nails scrape lightly at the back of my neck. “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you, baby,” My voice comes out rough, honest.
I kiss her again—longer this time, deeper—then slide my mouth down her throat, lingering at every spot that makes her shiver.
I want to relearn her, every inch, every reaction.
It’s been too long. My tongue traces the curve of her collarbone, my teeth grazing lightly before I soothe the mark with another kiss.
She arches beneath me, her legs shifting restlessly against mine, and I smile against her skin. “Easy, dollface. We’re not rushing this. Not after how long I’ve been waiting to touch you again.”
Her breath hitches, her hands tugging me closer. “Mav—”
“I missed you,” I whisper against the swell of her breast before drawing her nipple into my mouth, teasing with my tongue until she gasps. My hand cups her other breast, my thumb circling slow, steady, matching the rhythm of my mouth.
Her back arches, pressing into me, her body already trembling under the attention. I lift my head just enough to look at her—hair spilling across my pillow, cheeks flushed, lips parted as she breathes my name like it’s the only word she knows.
God, I could die happy right here.
“You’re so damn perfect,” I rasp, kissing down her stomach, my hands holding her hips still as she squirms. “Every inch of you. Every tattoo. Every scar. Mine.”
I reach the waistband of her panties, and I pause, looking up at her through heavy lashes. “Tell me you want this.”
Her eyes meet mine, glassy with need, and she whispers, “I want you, Maverick. Always.”
I slide the thin fabric down her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs, leaving marks where I can, until she’s trembling and cursing under her breath. I settle between her legs, spreading her open with my hands, and groan at the sight of her glistening for me.
“Fuck, dollface,” I murmur, dragging my tongue slowly up her folds, savoring the taste I’ve missed more than air. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
She cries out, her hands flying to my hair, tugging, anchoring me to her. I don’t fight it. I bury myself there, licking her slowly, thoroughly, worshipping her like she’s the only thing I’ve ever needed.
Because she is.
Her thighs are trembling in my hands, spread wide against the sheets, the taste of her already coating my tongue. God, I’d almost forgotten how addictive she is, almost.