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The nightmares and anxiety had started out of the blue and took her by surprise. Months after the incident, when she’d thought she’d moved on and started a euphoric life with Maverick, she’d woken up in a cold sweat with a pounding heart and terror overriding her sanity. It had happened every night until she’d been a sleep-deprived mess of anxiety and depression. Mav tried for weeks to get her to open to him, but she’d remained steadfast in her stubborn determination to beat it on her own. He didn’t need to relive what had happened or suffer any guilt over it.
The situation had gotten so bad that Maverick stole her away for a weekend reprieve and a serious come-to-Jesus conversation. It’d been the sight of his tears that had crumpled her walls and drawn a confession from her. The idea that he’d been so worried that he cried destroyed her resolve. She’d broken down in his arms, sobbing and spilling every detail of her traumatizing dreams and flashbacks.
Wonderful as always, Mav had held her for hours, crooning words of love and acceptance. When they’d returned home, she’d begun therapy both with and without him and started on the road to recovery.
She hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year and had various coping mechanisms in her back pocket if any triggers came out of the blue.
“You okay, baby?” he asked as he took the exit for the airport. “You got quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about the past.”
“Shit,” he spat out. “Shoulda kept my mouth shut.”
God love the man for never wanting her to spend a minute of her life less than deliriously happy. A smile curled her lips as she stretched up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I love you more than anything, Maverick. Do you know that?”
Heat filled the eyes he kept on the road, and his voice grew husky. “I know it, baby. You show me every fucking day. Love you the same. Probably more.”
With a dopey smile, she rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his toned bicep. “Not possible. And, of course, you should have told me about Scott. I’d have withheld sex until you did if you hadn't.”
“Ha! Pretty sure I wouldn’t need more than ten seconds to make you beg for it. Did you forget what happened right before we left the house?” He snorted. “Like you could resist Christmas cock.”
There, back on lighter subjects. The issues waiting for them in Florida wouldn’t go anywhere in the hours it took them to fly south. They’d have plenty of time for heavy topics and stress later.
“You’re right. I can’t. I can’t even resist Ground Hog Day cock. There’s no hope for me at Christmas time.”
Mav laughed again. “Fuck, I love you, woman.”
Not as much as I love you.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT THE FUCK are you wearing, brother?” Scott said as he approached. Laughter danced across his face, but Maverick could see the underlying strain that shone through in the form of pale skin, dark circles, and a thinner face.
Mav grinned, then glanced down at his T-shirt. Santa riding a Harley with the words, “I have a full sack just for you.”
“What? It’s festive.”
Scott stretched his arms wide, and Steph walked into them for a welcoming hug. “You let him leave the house wearing that shit?”
Laughing, she squeezed Scott back. “Trust me, it’s better for everyone if we just let him do his thing this time of year.”
Christ, how long did that fucking hug need to last? Mav hooked a hand around Steph’s upper arm and gently tugged her out of his club brother’s tight embrace. “Quit rubbing all over my woman, for fuck’s sake. Get your own goddammed ol’ lady.”
With a snort, Scott released Steph and raised his hand in surrender. “My bad. Forgot how you were.”
Steph laughed and rolled her eyes as she was pulled flush against Mav’s front, but the sparkle in her gaze let him know she secretly loved his possessive display.
Mav banded an arm across her chest as he held the other fist out for a bump from Scott. “Good to see you, brother. Thanks for picking our asses up this late.”
“Wouldn’t have done it if your pretty lady wasn’t here with you. Woulda made you walk your ass all the way to Curly’s.” He winked at Steph, who barked out a laugh. “Here, let me take your bag.” Scott snatched Steph’s suitcase and began to walk toward the parking lot with the confident swagger Mav had come to associate with the former Green Beret.
Steph tilted her head up. “Seems normal so far,” she mouthed.
Mav kissed her forehead, then released her. Hand in hand, they trailed after Scott, who was now whistling. The guy did seem okay. He looked good in a Handlers’ cut and seemed happy at first glance. Those dark smudges under his eyes and leaner figure spoke a different story, though. Was he sleeping? Eating? Taking care of himself?
