53. Clara
CLARA
WILD LOVE
“He’s driving me freaking crazy, Ash!” I whisper, my tone full of exasperation. I glance at the closed office door as though Maverick might be listening in from the other side before turning back to the screen. “He’s still treating me like I’m going to break.”
It’s been four freaking weeks. Four weeks , and he has been the sweetest, most accommodating man ever. He hasn’t left my side, and he’s always finding ways to touch me, to hold me, to care for me. I want for nothing—except his touch . He refuses to do more than kiss me, and damn if I’m not over it.
Ash chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes gleaming. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“I knew you were going to ask that.” I scrunch my nose, then sigh.
“I haven’t told him that he’s driving me crazy, no.
I mean, I’ve gotten frustrated when I tried to push things and he pulled away.
You know I have subtitles on my face, Ash—there’s no hiding my frustration when that happens.
But then he kisses me and tells me he just wants to make sure I’m fully healed and doesn’t want to hurt me.
So I let it go… I know I probably shouldn’t. ”
“I think it would be worthwhile to tell him exactly how you’re feeling. Don’t leave it up to him to guess. If you’re ready for more, you need to tell him.”
“I know,” I concede. “You’re right.” I shift in the leather chair, grateful that the movement doesn’t send pain through my ribs like it did just a week ago; the bruises on my face are barely visible now. I feel like me again. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good,” she says, a smile etched on her face. “How are you sleeping?”
“I’m sleeping okay. The nightmares aren’t as frequent… It’s almost like Mav and I take turns having nightmares, but waking up next to each other washes away any lingering fear.”
“It’s good that you two have each other. It’ll help you heal—both of you. And you know I’m here whenever you need me.”
“I know. Thank you for that. Being able to check in with you so often has been helpful.”
After everything that happened with Samson, I knew I needed more sessions with Ash.
We started with twice a week but ended up with daily sessions, and I don’t think I’d be where I am mentally if it weren’t for her.
Maverick’s even joined a few of them, and hearing him process his emotions with me—having him listen to me during some of my most vulnerable moments—has made me fall in love with him even more.
The vulnerability we’ve shared during those sessions has brought us closer together in every way except the one I desperately need.
“You’re doing the work, Clara. I’m just here to help guide you through it,” she says softly. “When you talk to Maverick today, remember to be honest and open about how you feel and what you want. Communication is key, especially after what you two have gone through together.”
“Yeah, I know. I think he’s still carrying his guilt. He’s not drowning in it, but it’s definitely still there. Mine is, too, I guess, and we both have to work through it. I just… I need him.”
“Tell him that, and let me know how the conversation goes tomorrow, okay?”
“I will. Thank you so much, Ash—for everything.”
“Have a good rest of your day, Clara. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Ash waves and signs off.
Closing the laptop, I lean back in the chair and stare up at the ceiling. I need a minute to just breathe. And to gather my courage.
With a sigh, I stand up and head for the door, smoothing down my oversized shirt—his shirt—as I go. You got this, Clara.
I find Maverick at the kitchen counter, the sleeves of his Henley rolled up to his elbows, his back to me as he works.
He’s taken over cooking most of the meals, and I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it.
I love our little bubble of domesticity and the way he takes care of me. But it’s time I took care of him, too.
For a moment, I just watch him, taking in the way his muscles move as he effortlessly wields the butcher knife. He alternates between chopping what looks to be spinach and stirring something on the stove—onions and garlic? Whatever it is, it smells delicious.
“Mm, smells amazing in here, my love,” I say, walking into the kitchen and stopping directly behind him.
I circle my arms around his waist and press a kiss to his spine before resting my cheek against him.
I automatically glance toward the sliding door, spotting Juno in the backyard through the half open curtains.
I’m not surprised that he’s sprawled out in his favorite spot, soaking in the sun.
Maverick sets the knife down as soon as he feels me.
His hands find mine on his stomach, and he brings one up to kiss the inside of my wrist. “Hey, sunshine,” he says, turning in my arms, and that familiar smile—the one that still makes my heart skip a beat—spreads across his face. “How was your session with Ash?”
“Good. Really good, actually.” I run my nose along his chest, then peek behind him.“What are you making?”
“Thought I’d try that pasta recipe you bookmarked last week,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and drawing me closer.
“The Marry Me Chicken one?” I ask hopefully. I’ve never had it before, but when I was looking for different pasta recipes, this one had me at sun-dried tomatoes and heavy cream.
“That’s the one,” he says, amusement lacing his voice.
“I can’t wait.” I reach up to kiss his chin, then settle my cheek on his chest.
He places a soft kiss on the top of my head. “What is it, sunshine? ”
“I miss you,” I whisper, locking my arms even tighter around him.
“I’m right here, baby.” His fingers trace the path of my spine. It’s soothing, comforting—but I need more.
I lean back just enough to meet his gaze. The urge to hide my face is overwhelming, but I need him to see that I’m serious. That I really do need him. “No, I miss you. You haven’t really touched me since that day… and I miss you. ”
Maverick gently grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, his brows knitting together. “I miss you, too, sunshine.” He leans forward and brushes his soft lips against mine. “I just… I just don’t want to risk hurting you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” I say firmly, my hands moving to frame his face. “Mav, look at me. Really look at me.”
His warm brown eyes search mine, and I can see the war happening behind them—want battling with worry, need fighting against fear.
“I’m not the same bruised and battered Clara from four weeks ago,” I continue, my thumbs brushing across his cheekbone.
“I’m healing. My ribs don’t hurt anymore, the bruises are gone.
I’m stronger than I was before, and that’s because of you—the way you take care of me—but you’re treating me like I’m fragile. I can’t stand it.”
He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. “Clara?—“
“No, let me finish.” I take a deep breath, centering myself before continuing. “I need you to hear me. I need you—all of you. Not just your gentle kisses and innocent touches. I need my Maverick back. I need the man who isn’t afraid to love me completely, to show me he loves me completely.”
When he opens his eyes again, I see something shift. The careful control he’s been maintaining wavers.
“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice full of emotion. “What if I do something, and it?—”
“Then I’ll tell you,” I interrupt. “I promise you, if anything feels wrong, or if I need you to stop, I’ll tell you.
One breath at a time, remember? But Mav, I’m not made of glass.
And this—” I gesture between us, “—this distance you’re keeping?
I know you have good intentions, but it’s hurting me. ”
His hands tighten on my waist. “God, sunshine, that’s not—I want you so much it physically hurts. But then I remember what he did to you, what he almost did to you, and I can’t?—”
“Hey.” I pull his face down enough to press my forehead against his. “That wasn’t your fault. We’ve talked about this—together and with Ash. You know it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t mine, either. The fault isn’t with us, my love. I need you to believe that.”
“I know that up here,” he taps his temple, “but in here—” he places my hand over his heart, “—it’s not as easy.”
I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm. “Then let me convince you,” I whisper. “Let me show you that I’m okay. That we’re okay.”
The timer on the stove beeps, but neither of us moves to turn it off. The moment hangs between us, fragile and full of possibility.
“The pasta—” he starts .
“Can wait,” I finish, reaching behind him to turn off the burner without breaking eye contact. “This is more important.”
He searches my face one more time, and I let him see everything—my frustration, my need, my love, my certainty that I’m ready for this.
“Are you sure?” he asks, the question laced with doubt.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I breathe.
Finally— finally —I see his resolve crumble. His hands slide up to cradle my face, and when he kisses me this time, it’s different. Deeper. Full of the want he’s been holding back.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love you so fucking much, sunshine.”
“Show me,” I whisper back, and I feel him smile against my mouth.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks one more time, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes.
“Maverick.” I hold his gaze, my voice steady and sure. “I’m ready to feel like myself again. I’m ready to feel like us again.”
He nods slowly, and I can see the last of his walls crumble down. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”
Oh, thank god.