Maverick
Present Day
“We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” — ELIE WIESEL
Her hair is wet. Not wet like damp from the mist that constantly hangs in the air here, but wet like she washed it. She looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes, and I notice her cheeks are flushed.
“Sorry,” she says, moving to rush past me.
I reach out and grab her bicep gently, and the contact sends a jolt through me. “Hey, you okay?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m fine. Though it would’ve been nice to know that you’re acquainted with my husband.”
I release my hold on her arm, scratching at my stubble. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
She looks down at the bundle of fabric in her arms. “Can I put these wet clothes down somewhere first?”
I reach for them, but her grip tightens on the sopping material.
“I got it.” Her nose scrunches. It always seems to do that when she argues with me, actually. It’s cute.
I turn and walk away, Delilah on my heels. She mutters something under her breath about how it’s impossible to keep up with my “giant lumberjack strides”, and my mouth tugs up at one corner.
Once we reach my tent—which I just finished setting up—I stoke the fire and gesture for her to lay her clothes out on the camping chair to dry. Once she finishes, I hold the tent flap open and she walks inside. I follow her in and take a seat at the table, crossing my ankle over my knee.
“Where’s the wolf?” she asks, noticing Zeus’s absence from the small space.
I shrug. “Probably scouting around. He always disappears for a while after we move camp.”
She nods a few times, biting at her thumb nail. “I’m sorry about that.”
“About what?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“About having to move the camp.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She scowls. “Obviously it is.”
I shrug, hoping to ease some of the guilt she’s feeling. “It was probably time to move on anyway.”
She shakes her head but drops the subject. “So, you know my husband.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t seem relevant.”
She glares at me. “Really, Maverick? How could it possibly be irrelevant?”
I ignore the warm feeling in my chest hearing her say my name again. “It’s not like I sought you out. I saw him treating you like shit, I did what I thought was best.”
“Best for who? I didn’t ask you to save me.” Her voice is louder now.
“Because you didn’t even know you needed saving!” I raise my voice to match hers.
She takes a deep breath. “Gabriel provides for me. I’m lucky to be his wife.”
I scoff and look away before I say something I’ll regret. “Gabriel and I met in kindergarten. We were best friends until our senior year of high school, when the Brotherhood started gaining traction. He decided to join them. I did not.”
“That’s it?” she asks skeptically.
“That’s it.”
“Twelve years of friendship thrown away, just like that?”
I huff a dark, humorless laugh. “The man that Gabriel is—the man that the Brotherhood turned him into—is not the man I grew up with. He changed.”
“How?” She seems calmer now, more curious than anything.
“He was the funniest guy I knew. He always had a prank or joke up his sleeve. He’d do anything to get you to laugh if you were having a rough day.” I shake my head as memories flood my mind. “He was competitive, but a good sport. He loved to bake.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Gabriel liked to bake? Like, cookies?”
I nod. “All the time. He’d bring our football team batches of new recipes he was trying out.”
She smiles briefly, but it fades just as quickly as it came. “I can’t even imagine that.”
“He was like a brother to me.” I cough to hide the emotion in my voice.
“Our senior year, he had a girlfriend, Amanda. She cheated on him with a college dude, and he took it really hard. But instead of going to therapy or finding a healthy outlet for his pain, he found a group of men on social media who validated how he was feeling about his ex-girlfriend.”
“The Brotherhood?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip.
I have the strangest urge to run my thumb along that same lip and pull it out from under her teeth.
Instead, I clench my fists in my lap and nod.
“He became obsessed with their ideology. He started talking negatively about all women, not just his ex, and I couldn’t stand it.
And my mom was sick, so my priorities shifted. ”
“So your friendship just fizzled out?”
“Not exactly.” The memory of what Gabriel did to Amanda still makes my blood boil. “He and his buddies took turns assaulting his ex.”
She shakes her head. “Gabriel would never do something like that.”
“He filmed the whole thing and posted it online. They wore masks, but I knew it was him. It was his initiation into the Brotherhood. He was hailed a hero while Amanda’s life was ruined. She took her own life a few weeks later.”
Her hand covers her mouth in horror as she shakes her head in disbelief.
“I confronted him about the whole thing. Do you know what he said to me?”
She looks away as a tear slides down her cheek.
“He said, ‘she got what she deserved. That bitch was a waste of space, anyway.’”
“Stop,” she pleads as more tears fall from her eyes.
“I nearly killed him that night; beat him till he was unrecognizable and left him to die.”
She cries silently, though she’s shaking like a leaf.
I don’t revel in telling her that her husband is a monster. I can see the pain in her eyes as she processes this new information. “I was planning on moving up north with my dad, but after that, after learning what they were capable of, I knew I had to stay. To help as many people as I can.”
She covers her face with her hands and starts to sob. “I don’t… I can’t… I’m so sorry.”
I stand, closing the distance between us. I reach for her, but stop before my hands make contact. “Can I touch you?”
She nods, so I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into my chest. Her body shakes as she cries for several minutes, until her breath evens out and her tears dry up. She pulls away, but I cup her cheeks in my palms gently. “Don’t you dare apologize for him.”
She nods, staring up at me. “You’re a good man, Maverick.”
My thumb strokes along her cheek of its own accord as I look down at her.
Even with her puffy eyes and uncombed hair, she’s beautiful, and damn if her compliment isn’t the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, especially considering she despised me when she first arrived a few days ago.
“I wish I had something different to tell you.”
“No, I’m glad you told me. I needed to know.” Her voice sounds far away as her hands come up to my chest, resting against my flannel. Her fingers run through the small bit of exposed hair on my chest, almost as if she’s in a trance.
I shiver from the contact. My hands move from her cheeks down to her shoulders, then to her waist. Her curves are soft beneath my palms, and my fingers spread over her ribs.
My heart is pounding, and her breath comes faster, both our chests heaving as we stare at one another.
I can’t take my eyes off her lips, and my tongue darts out to wet my own.
My eyes flick up to hers, and her own lips are parted slightly as she stares at mine.
Maybe she feels it too, the electric current that runs between us, the energy that seems to constantly draw us together.
A loud bang outside my tent has us both jumping apart, the tender moment now a thing of the past. I clear my throat and Delilah wraps her arms around herself. “Sorry,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “I should probably go.”
“Go where, darlin’?” I ask, unable to stop the smile pulling at my mouth.
She stutters. “I-I don’t know.”
“You can sleep here.” She tries to argue, but I forge ahead. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep in the meantime, since you’re only here temporarily, right?”
She bites her bottom lip and nods unconvincingly. “Right.”
“There’s paper and a pen on the table if you want to write a message to your mom,” I offer.
Her eyes flick toward the makeshift desk. “Okay.”
“We can figure out the logistics of getting you back to New Athens later. If that’s what you still want.”
“Of course.” She avoids my gaze, eyes on her feet.
“Let me know if you need anything.” I duck out of the tent without waiting for a reply, afraid that I’ll do something stupid if we stay in the same space any longer. Getting mixed up with Delilah—with Gabriel’s wife—is the last thing either of us need.
Regardless of the feelings that are undoubtedly developing for this woman, getting closer to her is a terrible idea on so many levels.
She’s married for one; not that it was her choice, but still.
She’s clearly in the beginning stages of processing all that’s happened to her, and she doesn’t need anyone—including me—clouding her mind as she deals with—and hopefully heals from—her trauma.
And lastly—and perhaps most importantly—she’s leaving.
Unless I can convince her otherwise.