Chapter 4
four
MAVERICK
When I told Jo that we weren’t done discussing the Jon thing, I didn’t think it would turn out that he was actually a dude named Patrick that murdered the real Jon.
I honestly thought he was just a true-crime nut who was getting a little out of control.
It probably doesn’t need to be said, but I am not doing well right now.
I stormed out of Cal’s house after the family meeting and have been in my room since.
“I’m coming in, Maverick. You’ve had enough time to wallow.”
I curl more into myself instead of answering Jo. This isn’t the first time she’s found me like this, and it won’t be the last if bombs like this keep getting dropped on me.
Jo lifts the covers and climbs in next to me, mirroring my position so our knees are touching. Lifting her hand, she gently pushes my hair out of my eyes.
“Eva knows he’s alive.” My voice is barely a whisper, but Jo hears me. She takes my shaking hands in her steady ones. She’s always the steady to my quaking, grounding me in a way that no one else can. I don’t deserve her friendship, but I’m so grateful for it and too selfish to end it.
“I think she already suspected as much. Yet she hasn’t found him.”
“She’s going to try to draw him out, Jo. I know her. Maybe not as well as I thought I did, but I know she never gives up and will use whoever she can to get what she wants.”
“Harlow texted me while I was giving you space.” I frown, confused by the change of subject. “Logan called. His brother is a hacker. He swears he’s the best there is and has offered us his help.”
“Harrison has a hacker too, and that’s barely got us anywhere,” I point out.
“Yeah, but if Logan is right and Theo is on the same level as Gavin Irons, then maybe we can find Ezra before Eva and Patrick get to him.”
It’s weird hearing Jo call Jon Patrick even though that’s his real name. Fucking asshole.
I take a shaky breath. “Okay. What does he need from us?”
“We’re going to meet with him in person at some point. Harlow said she’d let me know.”
I nod and pull Jo into my chest, needing to hold her.
I don’t know if the amount I want to cuddle her is normal, but my therapist thinks it’s possible that I’ve been so touch-starved my whole life that I’m making up for it now.
Jo seems to enjoy it just as much as I do.
Maybe she’s touch-starved, too. I don’t know.
I need to be a better friend to her and ask her more about her life before mine invaded it.
The only thing I know right now is that my head quiets when she’s touching me, and I need that more than anything right now. So when she nuzzles her head under my chin and wraps her arms around me, I close my eyes and fall into a soundless sleep.