Structural assessments.
Inventory lists.
Depreciation.
Temporary housing reimbursement.
Every word sounds important.
Every word also sounds like one more reason I’m not going to see a check anytime soon.
“I hate this,” I mutter as Maverick guides me toward the elevator with one hand at the small of my back.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do. I mean, maybe you do in your own billionaire crime lord way, but regular people hate insurance in a very specific way.”
His mouth curves slightly. “Billionaire crime lord way?”
“You know what I meant.”
“I enjoyed the phrasing.”
“Of course you did.”
The elevator doors open. We step inside, and I lean back against the wall with a sigh.
The meeting lasted just over an hour, but it felt like a week. The lawyer was kind. Helpful. Very professional. She also usedphrases like bad faith and delayed payout and legal pressure, which should have made me feel better.
It didn’t.
It made everything feel bigger.
My home is gone.
My sanctuary is gone.
My animals are scattered between other rescues.
And now I have to argue with an insurance company about whether I’m allowed to start putting my life back together.
I’ve already paid to have the entire land wiped clean from what the fire left behind. All I need is my insurance to step up so I can start rebuilding.
Maverick takes my hand as we step into the lobby.
“Tomorrow,” he says.
I look up at him. “What?”
“You’re not thinking about this again until tomorrow.”
“Maverick.”
“Your lawyer has what she needs. Let her do her job.”
“I still have things to do.”
“Yes. Pick up Olivia. Feed her. Let her tell you too many details about her day. And celebrate your birthday.”
