26. Clara #2
Maverick reaches over, brushing a knuckle along my jaw before slipping an arm around me and pulling me close. “You okay, sunshine?”
“I think so,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. “Are there any updates on the case? Do you know when the press conference will be?”
His fingers lightly brush the hair from my face, tilting his head to study me. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but when he finds it, he shakes his head. “Tomorrow. Cruz and everyone else will be there. We can watch it from here.”
“Don’t you need to be there?”
“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” Maverick says without hesitation.
“Smooth talker.” I release a breath and rest my head on his broad shoulder, letting the stillness settle around us.
After a few minutes, I decide to break the silence.
“Mav? Can I ask you a question?”
“You don’t have to ask—just ask me.”
I shift in his arms, turning my body and bringing up a leg so I can face him. My knee rests over his thigh, his arm brushing against my shoulder.
“Why do you think he chose me?”
Surprise flickers across Maverick’s face before he smooths his expression. His hand finds the nape of my neck, applying the lightest, most comforting pressure.
“We don’t know why he chose anyone, if I’m being honest. You fit the profile of the other women, but that’s all we know.”
“What profile?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes,” I assert, leaning into his hand.
He sighs.
“All of the women had three things in common: the type of job they held—all customer-facing roles, like bartending—no family in the area, and similar physical features.”
My brows draw together as I think about the other women—the ones who didn’t make it. I’ve been so caught up in my own trauma that I haven’t let myself consider theirs. An ache settles in my chest, a crack I didn’t know was there, deepening with the knowledge that I get to be here and they don’t.
“What are you thinking about?”
I must’ve gone quiet too long because Maverick’s hand gently lifts my chin, guiding my gaze to his.
“I just… It just hit me that I’m the only survivor. Why do I get to live and not them?”
“Clara, baby… You can’t think like that.
He followed a pattern with the others, but he broke it for you.
We don’t know why—and maybe I don’t want to know.
Because if he hadn’t… you might not be here.
And I can’t think about that, either. It was sheer luck that Juno and I were out for a run on the trail. Sheer fucking luck that he heard you.”
“I can’t help but wonder,” I whisper, “if it’s my fault for catching his attention. If I hadn’t worked that night, none of this would’ve happened. If I hadn’t flirted with him… let him drive me home…”
“Hey—no.” His voice turns firm, brooking no argument. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. He would’ve found a way. He set his sights on you, and nothing you did or didn’t do would’ve changed that.”
“I just need this to be over. I need him to leave me alone. Why won’t he leave me alone?”
“We’re going to find him, sunshine,” he says, his tone low and sure. “And when we do, he’s going to wish it wasn’t me.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. “For being here. For making me feel safe.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
I press my lips together in contemplation, then shift the mood—the subject. “Last night… when I kissed you?—”
“Do you regret it?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“Good. Because I don’t, either.”
I draw in a breath. “I talked to Ash about it today… I don’t regret kissing you.
I wanted to kiss you. But when you pulled away, there was a part of me that was relieved because you didn’t press me for more…
and another part of me that was disappointed because I wanted you to.
I couldn’t help but think… Maybe I’m wrong for feeling that way about you. Especially after what he did.”
Maverick’s jaw tightens slightly, but his hand stays gentle where it rests on my neck.
“You’re not wrong.” A heavy emotion laces his tone, and the weight of it sends a shiver down my spine .
“What he did doesn't get to define what you want. He doesn’t get to take that from you. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Clara. Wanting me—wanting this—means one thing: you’re alive. You’re living, baby.”
The words land with a soft, earth-shaking thud inside me. There’s so much to unpack in what he just said—so much I’m not sure how to process yet—but one truth stands out: he never said he didn’t want me. And that matters more than I thought it would.
Still, I need to hear it. I need the reassurance.
“Are you saying… I mean, do you want this, too?”
In one smooth movement, Maverick lifts me into his lap, his hands strong but careful.
Poor Juno lets out an indignant huff as he’s displaced from his spot.
My legs straddle Maverick’s thighs, his chest rising and falling beneath my palms where my hands settled.
He leans in until his mouth brushes mine—close enough to feel the heat of his breath, but not quite a kiss.
“Sunshine,” he murmurs, an effusive whisper into my mouth.
“I haven’t let myself get close to a woman in seven years.
But here you are, so deep in my skin you could never get out.
I don’t know that I could let you go even if you wanted me to.
And I’d wait forever for you, if that’s what you need.
You lead this. Always. You tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you. ”
My breath catches, a soft inhale that sticks in my throat. My fingers curl into the fabric of his navy tee as I search his face—every word, every look, every heartbeat, anchoring me to this moment.
“I’m scared,” I whisper, glancing away as my gaze fixes on his throat. “I want this, but I’m afraid something is going to trigger me and ruin it.”
His arms tighten around me, one hand cradling the back of my head like I’m something precious.
“Then we take it one breath at a time, sunshine.” His lips brush the corner of my mouth, featherlight, not demanding—just a promise. “And if something does trigger you, I’ll be right here—reminding you that it’s me holding you, touching you, worshipping you.”
I close my eyes and relax into him, into the steadiness of his words and the warmth of his hold.
I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on anyone, but I can’t deny that every broken, harrowing step somehow led me here.
To him. And for the first time, my heart feels lighter—as though I’ve set down a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.