Page 6 of Fractured Hearts

Why?

Publicity reasons.

Good thing we have a public relations team for that.

I need to know before them.

Do you?

Don’t test me.

I need to know as soon as you find him.

We’ll see.

“What the fuck?” Maverick says, handing me my phone back.

“Weird, right?”

Maverick’s fingers caress my bare arm in a barely there touch as he thinks. He does this a lot, the same way I like to run my hands through his hair when I’m content. It makes it really hard to convince my heart that this man isn’t mine.

“I’ll talk to everyone and start looking for a new agent,” he says.

“What?” I exclaim, sitting up quickly.

“He threatened you,” Maverick says, like it’s that simple.

“He didn’t.”

“He did. Subtly, but he did, Jo. I won’t let anything happen to you. No one threatens you.”

And there goes my traitorous heart again. Beating so hard in my chest it feels like it’s trying to break free to be with his. I press my hand against my chest, trying to keep it there.

“Who is it?” I ask Maverick, who’s looking down at his ringing phone.

“Millie.” Maverick has become close to Belle and Cal’s favorite cousin over the last few months. They’ve been working together on a fundraiser for victims of domestic violence.

“Answer it. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

He frowns. “Fine, but we’re not done talking about this Jon thing.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

He snorts as he walks away and answers his phone.

four

MAVERICK

When I told Jo that we weren’t done discussing the Jon thing, I didn’t think it would turn out that he was actually a dude named Patrick that murdered the real Jon. I honestly thought he was just a true-crime nut who was getting a little out of control. It probably doesn’t need to be said, but I am not doing well right now. I stormed out of Cal’s house after the family meeting and have been in my room since.

“I’m coming in, Maverick. You’ve had enough time to wallow.”

I curl more into myself instead of answering Jo. This isn’t the first time she’s found me like this, and it won’t be the last if bombs like this keep getting dropped on me.

Jo lifts the covers and climbs in next to me, mirroring my position so our knees are touching. Lifting her hand, she gently pushes my hair out of my eyes.

“Eva knows he’s alive.” My voice is barely a whisper, but Jo hears me. She takes my shaking hands in her steady ones. She’s always the steady to my quaking, grounding me in a way that no one else can. I don’t deserve her friendship, but I’m so grateful for it and too selfish to end it.