Who the hell had she become?
“Whatever you need, Al. Just name it,” Maverick said, his big hands giving her so much comfort.
She forced a deep breath. And another. Trying to rein herself in. She scrubbed at her face and leaned her forehead against his broad chest. She breathed him in, her heart and her body recognizing his scent, all leather and soap and Maverick. And she wondered if just a few of her tears weren’t for the relationship she’d walked away from five years before out of grief over losing Tyler to the thing Maverick loved most, fear of getting hurt even worse if she lost Mav, too, and the crushing weight of responsibility for her mother.
Right there in that moment, Maverick was her rock. Dependable, reliable, and certain—all things she’d doubted about him five years before. All things she’d believed Grant absolutely guaranteed.
The weight of all her mistakes was almost too much to bear.
She looked up into Maverick’s dark blue eyes, so filled with concern for her, and whispered a confession. “I’ve been so wrong about so much for so long.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and swiped at her tears with his thumb. His calluses were rough against her skin, but it was the most amazing thing she’d felt in a long, long time. She couldn’t resist leaning in to his touch. “No fucking way this was your fault. Tell me what happened.”
“Grant accused me of cheating on him with you,” she said.
Rage flashed through his blue eyes, but his hands remained gentle, soothing, caring. It made her heart ache and soar at the same time. “Go on,” he whispered, his voice raw.
“One of the sheriffs saw us on your bike and told Grant. Nothing I said mattered. No, it was worse than that. He twisted everything I said. Threw my words back in my face.” Anger rose up inside her again and she shook her head as Grant’s voice echoed inside her mind. You have nothing without me. You are nothing without me.
“No doubt it was Curt Davis. He’s so far up Slater’s ass it’s a surprise you don’t hear Davis’s voice when Slater talks.” He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “All this over a fucking bike ride,” Maverick said under his breath. “Damnit, I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”
Alexa braced her hands on his chest, his warmth seeping inside her where she was so cold, so lonely, so alone. “No, Maverick,” she said, the anger coming through in her voice. “It’s neither of our faults. That’s the thing. There were so many things I couldn’t do, or shouldn’t do, or he would get mad. So much that was better left unsaid because it would cause a fight. I knew he wouldn’t like knowing I’d ridden with you, but we didn’t do anything wrong. You were just helping me. And I needed you—”
She cut herself off, the words taking her by surprise. How long had it been since she’d last let herself think that thought? That she’d needed Maverick Rylan.
He gave a tight nod, his eyes on fire with emotions she didn’t dare to guess at.
“And then he threw me out.” How humiliating was that to say out loud? Just voicing it made her stomach toss.
Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “He kicked you out of the house?”
“He literally grabbed me and threw me out the front door,” she whispered, barely able to give voice to such an ugly truth. “To punish me.”
“Sonofabitch,” he bit out, his gaze searching hers. “I’m going to kill this motherfucker. I swear to God.”
“No. Promise me. You will not go after him. You’re right. He has friends in lots of places around town, including the sheriff’s and mayor’s offices. You lay one finger on him and he’ll find a way to get you arrested. Promise me.” She held his stare, all the while realizing she never would’ve talked this way to Grant. Well, not before tonight.
Maverick looked like he wanted to murder someone. Well, obviously, he did. “He threw you out of your own house, Alexa. In a goddamned storm. He hurt you.”
“I know. But I refuse to let him hurt you. Promise me.” She grasped Maverick by the edge of his cut and shook him. “Promise.”
His eyes were blue fire. And, God, even rankly pissed off, he was so freaking hot. And it wasn’t just his looks, though those were damn fine. It was his sense of honor. His protectiveness toward her. His basic decency. When had she stopped valuing that? “Fine. I promise. For now.”
“Maverick—”
“Tell me what happened the day you came to the clubhouse.” He arched a brow at her.
“He didn’t hit me,” she rushed to say.
The brow went up a little higher. “Hanging on by a very short thread here, Al.”
“We got in a fight over a mess I made. He kicked a box at me and I jerked back out of the way and tripped. I fell and hit my head on a table. He told me it was my own fault and stormed out. I . . . I freaked out.” The words spilled from her in a rush.