19. Mav
NINETEEN
MAV
“Fuck.” I toss my phone and watch it skitter across the butcher block island.
“Still not answering?” Jameson asks sympathetically.
“Her phone is off.”
“At least you know she’s safe.”
“Yeah,” I snort.
“She’s at her father’s. The guy ignored her for years, and yet, she’d rather be there, in his home, than with me, in ours.”
“She’s been through a lot,” Jameson mutters quietly.
I scoff in disbelief.
Can anyone be on my side?
Can my own damn brother stick up for me?
At my glare, he lifts his hands.
“Take it easy. I’m not saying you haven’t been through hell, but Kenny...” He trails off.
“She’s healing from a lot of trauma, Maverick.”
“Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, guilt sweeping my gut.
“Yeah, I know.” Mckenna is processing and healing and fucking hurting.
Why won’t she let me help her?
Why doesn’t she want me to keep her safe?
“She’s my wife, Jameson.”
He takes a swig of his coffee.
“Yeah.”
I push away from the island and pace around the kitchen.
I’ve been oscillating between terror, rage, and panic for two days.
Will Mckenna be okay?
Did I lose her for good?
It’s been hell, and today, I’m done.
I swipe my keys off the counter.
“I’m going to see her.”
“What?” Jameson stands and blocks my path.
He’s calm and collected, pausing to cross his arms over his chest. “Think about what you’re saying, Mav. Think .”
“I’m not much of a thinker, Jameson. I’m a doer. I fuck shit up right; isn’t that what I’m good at?” I flail an arm to the side.
Anger churns in my gut, and it feels good to spew some of it.
“Well, I tried to do all this the right way. I tried to step up for Mckenna. I tried to keep her safe. To be the man she needs. To love—” I cut myself off before I bleed out.
Jameson drops his gaze, knowing what I’m about to say.
“And where the hell did it get me?” I question, sarcastically glancing around my empty kitchen.
“I’m done waiting and wondering. Besides, you were the one who told me to talk to her!”
“That was before she signed herself out of the hospital.”
“It’s been two days . I’m going to see my wife.”
“I’ll drive you,” he offers.
“No,” I shoot him down.
“I gotta do this on my own.”
Jameson sighs, knowing I won’t budge.
I may be the life of the party.
The carefree, goofy, charismatic bandmate.
But when I commit to something, I’m stubborn.
Obstinate. And no one, not even my brother, will stand in my way.
“Drive safe. Call me if you need me. If you need anything,” Jameson says.
I nod.
“Maybe...look a little nicer? Shower, fix your hair, change your clothes,” he suggests.
I snort. I don’t give a shit how I look.
All I want to do is see Mckenna.
I grab a baseball cap from the closet and put it on backward.
Then, I pocket my wallet and phone and leave the brownstone.
The drive to Mckenna’s dad’s house is faster than I anticipate.
Derek got the address from Allegra and sent it to me, and I arrive in under an hour.
Wow. I stare at the ultra-contemporary home situated outside the city center.
Mckenna didn’t grow up here since her parents were forced to sell and split the proceeds of her childhood home in their divorce.
But this house is expensive.
Formidable and cold.
It’s an apt depiction of how I imagine Mckenna’s childhood.
Looking at the house, I envision the loneliness and the quiet, the always feeling less than that followed her throughout her childhood and adolescence.
Blowing out a sigh, I exit my car and move to the front door.
I knock three times.
I’m about to knock again when the door swings open, and Mckenna’s father—tall, imposing, with the same navy eyes—appears.
I pull my hat off my head and clasp my hands behind my back.
“Mr. Byrne.”
He looks me up and down.
Then, he pulls me into a hug.
It surprises the hell out of me, but I wrap an arm around his back and slap his shoulder.
“I’m glad you came,” he mutters.
“How is she?” I ask, pulling away.
“She’s okay. Physically, I mean. But emotionally, mentally, she’s…processing. I think she’s scared to fully put her trust in someone else. And hell, Mav, I’m partly to blame for that.”
“I am too,” I agree, hating that it’s the truth.
He nods and points toward the stairwell.
“Top of the stairs. First door on the right. See if you can get a handle on where her head is with this Branson Burton.”
I suck in a deep breath.
“She told you?”
Mr. Byrne looks stricken when he meets my eyes.
“She did. And I will not let this go, Maverick. I will ruin this kid before he even has the chance to become a man.”
I work a swallow and feel relief unfurl in my veins.
Finally, someone who sees the situation the same way I do.
“I feel the same way. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Mckenna.”
“I know you will.” His expression softens and he glances up the stairway.
“I don’t know how much time she’ll give you. Say the most important thing first.”
“Thank you.” I take the stairs two at a time.
When I make it to Mckenna’s bedroom, I freeze.
Nerves bundle in my stomach, making me nauseous.
What if she doesn’t speak to me?
What if she asks me to leave?
Say the most important thing first.
I knock twice and, without waiting for a response, throw open her bedroom door and cross the threshold.
“Mckenna,” I say, my tone hard.
She looks up, her mouth dropping open in surprise.
God, she’s gorgeous.
She looks fragile in the bed, her hair piled on top of her head.
A bandage covers the back left side of her scalp, ending at her neck.
Christ, I missed her.
“What are you—” she stutters.
“I love you,” I declare.
“I fucking love you, Mckenna.”
She freezes for a full heartbeat before pain blazes across her expression.
“I know you do. Loving each other isn’t the problem, Mav.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, striding to her bed and dropping to my knees.
I reach for her hand, and she clasps my fingers, tugging until I shift to perch on the side of her bed.
“What is it?”
“You went behind my back,” she murmurs.
“You took control of a situation I’m trying to get a handle on.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
She nods emphatically.
“And you have. But you crossed a line, Mav.”
“There are so many lines, it’s like playing fucking hopscotch,” I growl.
“I’m not going to apologize for keeping you safe.”
Mckenna rolls her lips together and sighs.
“I need to be able to trust myself and sometimes, with you meddling and taking things on, it makes that harder.”
“I never meant to scare you.”
“I know. But I was terrified. And that made me realize how scared I truly am. Every day on campus, walking to my car, getting coffee from The Grind. I keep waiting to see him.” Her eyes fly to mine, brimming with tears.
“It’s like I’m suffocating and can’t suck in a breath. And I’m trying, Mav. I’m seeing a therapist. I told Allegra and my father the truth. I’m trying. I want to be a good wife. A worthy wife and a true partner.”
“You are!”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not. I’m not there yet. I need to be okay on my own before I can ever be the woman you need.”
“You are the woman I need. The woman I want.” Nerves in my stomach tighten.
My heart beats erratically.
“Not like this.” She points to herself.
“I’m not thriving. I’m fucking surviving. And I deserve more. You deserve more. We both do, our marriage does. Please, can you give me some time?”
“Time and space,” I mutter bitterly.
“We’re back to that?”
“I just want to take a few days at my dad’s house. Get my head on right. Figure out what to do next.”
“About Bran?” I sneer.
“About everything,” Mckenna replies.
“Fuck.” I hang my head, hating that she’s pushing me away.
Again. When all I’ve ever done is try to show up for her.
Be present for her.
“Maverick, please,” she pleads with me.
Two tears spill over, rolling slowly down her cheek.
“I need a break.”
A break.
I stare at her. My mouth opens and closes, but words don’t come.
She’s hurting, and I’m.
..making it worse. My presence is hurting her.
My love is hurting her.
How the fuck did this happen?
Oh, God. The pain is unbearable.
My chest twists, and my stomach clenches.
My fingers tremble, and my eyes sting.
I blink rapidly, feeling like there’s sand stuck in my eyes.
What the hell is wrong with me?
A knock at the door causes me to turn.
Mr. Byrne stands in the doorframe.
“Come on, son. It’s time to leave.” His eyes are shaded with pity and understanding that I don’t deserve.
Son.
He called me son.
No one’s called me that for years.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time Big Jim referred to me as his without his lips curling in disgust or his eyes beading in anger.
I blink and manage to swallow even though my throat is painfully tight.
Mckenna disengages our hands, and mine falls limply at my side.
I miss her touch. Her warmth.
Her .
She’s already pulling away from me, she’s already adding the distance she seeks.
I follow Mr. Byrne down the stairs.
He gestures for me to enter his study and closes the door behind us.
“She needs time. A break,” I mutter.
“She needs to feel safe,” her father disagrees.
I look up. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to take that bastard down.”
I pull in a deep breath and nod.
I know what Mckenna said.
What Jameson and Greg and everyone else has said.
Talk to her. Loop her in.
Give her time.
But the fear that eats at my stomach is real.
And when I look into Mckenna’s father’s eyes, I know he feels it too.
Bran is coming for Mckenna, and I won’t sit back and wait for that shit to happen.
“Count me in,” I say.
“Whatever you need. I have info on him.”
Mr. Byrne nods.
“I’ll come to your place tomorrow morning. We’ll figure this out, put it to bed, and move forward.” He holds out a hand and I shake it firmly.
Nothing in my life makes any goddamn sense.
Except this.
I vowed to protect my wife, and I’ll do it at all costs.
Even if it means losing her.