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I push up on my toes so I can press my lips to the edge of his jaw. “You taught me how to handle this kind of situation. Why don’t we go back to your parents’? You look like you could use a nap.”
“Let’s get back and get you settled in,” he agrees.
The morning has taken more out of me than I anticipated. Maverick and his dad offer to make us lunch when we get back to their house, but all I want to do is sleep. We head out to the pool house and climb into bed, Maverick wrapped protectively around me.
I wake up in the same position I fell asleep in, Maverick’s hand twitching against my side. He makes a plaintive sound. I lie there for a minute, listening to his uneven breathing, worried he’s caught in yet another bad dream. I shift so I can see his face. His brows are pulled together, and he makes another low, despondent sound.
I sit up, hoping he’s going to fall back into peaceful sleep. He’s been struggling for weeks now, and what happened last night isn’t going to make it any better. I’d hoped things would settle after contract talks, but I fear that won’t be the case. I know he’s been offered a spot at training camp now, but I don’t know what he’s thinking.
I consider that a moment. What will I do if he’s moving to Nashville? Can I stay in that cabin on my own? Do I want to? My brain automatically rejects the possibility. Would following him mean potentially falling into the same pattern I had with Gabriel—leaving my support system behind and relying on only him? Would it be fair to either of us?
Everything feels too fresh for me to be able to think this through rationally. I don’t even know if he plans to accept it. Anyway, this situation with Gabriel needs resolution before I can start planning my future.
Maverick’s lip twitches, along with his fingers. I put my hand on his cheek. “Shh, you’re okay.”
He sucks in a ragged breath, and his eyes flip open. They zing around the room, frantic and unnerved.
I drop my hand, and he catches it in his. “Shit. I fell asleep. How long have I been out?”
“I’m not sure. Were you dreaming?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He blows out a breath. “How long have you been awake?”
“Just a couple minutes.”
“Did I wake you? Are you feeling okay?”
“Just stiff and sore, which is to be expected. How are you?” I shift and tuck my legs under me, leaning into his side.
“I’m okay. Fine. Worried about you and all this shit with Gabriel. I knew he was a problem. I just didn’t realize he was this dangerous.” He massages his temple. “If I’d met you at the cabin, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“You can’t take the blame for this, Maverick.” I settle a palm on his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening in your head.”
“I don’t know. It just . . . It could have been so much worse.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips. “I want to keep you safe.”
“You have, and you taught me how to take care of myself. That’s even better, don’t you think?”
He nods. “I might be a lot to handle for the next little while, so I’m going to apologize in advance. If I’m driving you up the wall, let me know, and I’ll try my best to tone it down.”
“I think we’ll probably be two peas in a pod.” I lean down and kiss his lips, then rest my uninjured forearm on his broad chest. “Tell me how the weekend went. You were offered a spot at training camp?” He’s on the fence about what he wants, so I can imagine that getting the offer is both good and bad.
“Nashville offered, but I haven’t agreed to go yet.”
“Because you’re undecided?”
He reaches up and traces the contours of my face. “I keep going back and forth, trying to figure out what I really want. For a good while, I wanted the contract not because of the career, but because it would make the optics for you and me better.”
I nod. “I could turn that around and say that because of who you are, the stigma would most definitely affect you, because you’d own it.” I curl the rogue wave swooping over his forehead around my finger and let it go.
“Mmm . . . Yeah, which is what I realized and why I had to do a mental reset and take into consideration not just how it impacted optics, but how it would impact the rest of my life. I started thinking about what it would look like if I don’t accept the offer. Am I going to regret walking away?”
“And what did you decide?” My heart is in my throat, because I can see the changes that have slowly been taking place over the past few months—how instead of putting everyone he loves before himself, Mav is finally also taking his own needs into consideration.
“I don’t think I’ll regret it if I don’t accept. I had a talk with my dad, and I laid it all out for him. When I put the money I could be making aside—and I know that’s not an easy thing for people to do—but when I take out the paycheck and look critically at what I’m being offered . . . Maybe I could rise, do well in the league. But I’m always going to be compared to my dad, and he’s had a legendary career. He’s blown records out of the water as both a player and a coach. I don’t want to live in a shadow. And if I take the offer, that’s what I’m signing on for.” He laces his fingers with mine. “I want to build my own legacy. When I look five years into the future, I don’t see me playing for the NHL. I see me working with my dad, getting kids ready for their own shot. I see myself running a self-defense program. I see a normal life.”
“Then that’s what you should have.” I lean down and press my lips to his.
He runs his fingers through my hair and parts his lips, inviting me in. I sink into the kiss and the connection, wanting to get lost in him. In us.
