I bit back tears as the deputies and fire department finally pulled away. The paramedic had already finished patching up Maverick a while ago. Despite their best attempts, he’d refused to go to the hospital to have the cut on his eyebrow patched up as well as a breathing treatment.
The scent of fire still remained, though little more than soot and broken shrapnel littered the ground where my home had once been. My chest constricted, a lump lodging in my throat as my entire body trembled. What the hell was I going to do? How was I going to come back from this?
I glanced over at Maverick sitting on the tailgate of my truck, the lump in my throat thickening. He’d been so quiet. Painfully quiet since waking up. And with the constant barrage of questions from the firefighters and sheriffs and neighbors, I hadn’t had a chance to say more than a few words to him.
“Come on, Brandy,” I murmured, making my way toward him.
Brandy trotted past me, completely unfazed by the events of the evening. I wished I could bounce back like her. She hopped up onto my tailgate, plopping herself onto Maverick’s lap. He didn’t even react, save for stroking a hand along the back of her neck, his gaze fixed on something on the ground. It’s like he wasn’t there, but reliving some memory from a different time.
My voice trembled as I came to a stop before him and said, “Hey.”
The look in his eyes, on his face was haunted. My heart splintered in my chest. This was my fault. God, how had today gone to such shit?
He didn’t respond, but he did give me a stiff nod.
I reached out to place a reassuring hand on his knee but stopped myself. Something in his gaze told me not to. He looked like a spooked deer. Ready to bolt at any moment.
“I’m so sorry for tonight. It’s late, too late to drive you back right now. I’ll find us a place to stay and we can call Charlie and the guys tomorrow morning.”
“I already got us a hotel,” he muttered, “I’ll pull up directions.” He sounded so hollow. So broken.
“Thank you. I’m good to drive.”
He shook his head. “I will.” The finality in his voice, blazing in his gaze, left me nodding.
I opened my mouth to say something—I don't know what—but I closed it. I’m sorry just didn’t seem like enough.
I know that everyone dealt with trauma differently, but I hadn’t expected this from him. This…lifelessness. I thought of the scars marring his arms. His chest. He’d dealt with fire before. Had I brought him back to that?
Bile rose in my stomach.Oh, dear God, please don’t throw up.
I sucked a shaky lungful of air down my throat, praying like hell it soothed my nausea.
He didn’t speak as he slipped off the tailgate of my truck. Didn’t so much as look at me as we settled into the front seats.But as Maverick placed his hands on the steering wheel, I noticed the whites of his knuckles, the trembling in his hands. His jaw was clenched so tightly, a part of me wondered how he hadn’t cracked it.
“No,” I breathed, turning to face him fully, causing Brandy to shuffle beneath my feet.
Maverick turned to meet my harsh stare, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“No,” I repeated, gesturing for him to get out. “You ain’t drivin’. We ain’t gettin’ a hotel. I'm takin' you home.”
“I’m fine,” he said through a clenched jaw. But his haunted gaze gave him away. He was still stuck in whatever memories he’d been reliving. I couldn’t let him drive. No matter if it was just down the street.
“Maverick…” I pressed a soft hand to his forearm. He flinched beneath my touch, a newfound horror burning in his eyes as he noticed my hand against his marred skin. “Please, let me help you.”
A string of emotions warred within his gaze, but finally with a broken sigh, he all but pried his fingers from the steering wheel. With a dip of his head, he turned and opened the driver-side door.
I’d called Charlie assoon as we’d gotten out of San Antonio and were headed towards the ranch. They’d all just been getting home, and the moment I’d mentioned a fire, Cash had taken over the call, all drunkenness having left his tone as he asked, “How long ‘til you’re here?”
With each passing moment, with every mile that we came closer to the ranch, the quieter and more withdrawn Maverick became. He was like a ghost. A wraith. A shell of a human. His body was here, but there was no light inside. That same glassy look had returned to his eyes, and even though he was sitting next to me, petting Brandy methodically with one hand while clutching mine in the other, I knew he was somewhere faraway.
I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say. Not that I thought saying anything would help at that point anyway. So, I did the only thing I could think of that eased the tension. I sang.
It was nearly twoin the morning when the Mercenary Ranch sign came into view. Relief trickled through me, but it wasn’t enough to quell the trepidation clawing in my chest. The lights were on in Charlie and Ryder’s house, and before I’d even fullymade it up the drive, three dark figures dashed down the front steps and toward the circular, gravel driveway. As I pulled to a stop, Cash all but ripped open the passenger-side door. A seriousness I’d never seen had settled around him like a shroud, shining him in a completely new light.
This wasn’t the man-whore who was as obnoxious as he was attractive. This Cash was new. Fierce. Valiant.
“Maverick.” Cash’s voice was both soothing and stern all at once as he loomed in the passenger seat doorway. “Oh, shit—”
