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Everything about the man standing in front of me now is different. There’s an edge to him there never was before, the way he holds his body coiled tight like a cobra waiting to strike . . . am I his prey?
And if so, why, then—when he drags his eyes from my face, running them over every inch of me—does my body heat under the caress of his gaze, goose bumps following the lines his gray irises trace over my skin.
“Well, now you know that I do,” he says, stepping closer. His chest presses against mine, and his heart beats erratically, his pulse threading at his neck. “So you need to leave.”
Shaking my head, I ignore the way my body trembles under him and blood rushes to my center.
I may have fucked up two years ago, but I won’t cower to him today, nor will I allow him to know the visceral response my body has to him now.
“I won’t run, Maverick. You don’t scare me.”
“No?” He cocks his head before pressing his lips to my ear. “I could ruin you, Beatrice. Just like you did me.”
My eyes flutter closed as his teeth close around my earlobe, nipping lightly at the skin. Maverick Brady may hate me—with good reason—but his body doesn’t, and that’s why I know I have nothing to fear from him.
“You won’t,” I whisper, forcing my eyes open when he pulls away from me.
He steps back, and the sounds of the hall rush my ears. Maisie tugs at my hand and tries to pull me away, but I shake my head at her, never taking my eyes off him.
He stares at me, his head cocked to one side as he waits for me to continue.
“Ruining me would hurt me, and that’s something you’d never be able to do. So do your worst, Mav,try.Because it can’t be any worse than what I’ve done to myself over the last two years.”
He brings his thumb to his mouth, swiping it over his bottom lip for a beat before gripping my chin and pulling my face to his. The thumb that grazed his lip runs along mine, and I bite my tongue against the moan that threatens to slip. “Don’t tempt me, Beatrice.”
Pacing back and forth over the floor, Mom’s voice bounces around the kitchenette, her face a sheet of white as she watches me through the screen of my phone. “Beatrice.”
“No, Mom,” I snap, stopping in front of my phone and dropping down until my face is visible in the bottom corner. “You didn’t think I needed to know that he was here? You told me he moved to the other side of the damn country.”
“Honey . . .” She closes her eyes, sighing as Dad’s head pops up over her shoulder. He wraps a hand around her, placing a kiss on her head before glancing at me. She peels her eyes open, the ghost of a smile passing over her lips as she says quietly down the line, “You were so excited.”
“What?”
“When you came to us, with the college application in your hand, you seemed excited,” she tells me, tears springing to her eyes. “It was the first time in over a year and a half that I’d seen even a glimmer of something in your eyes. You had hope, Beatrice. You really wanted to do this.”
Maisie sits at the counter, her eyes curious as she flicks between my phone and me. The moment Maverick walked away, I stomped back to my car, my thumb pressing down on Mom’s number. I had no hope of losing Maisie as she hopped into the passenger’s seat, locking herself in with me when I pulled away and started toward my dorm.
“You didn’t even mention any other colleges to us, it was Braylee University or nothing,” Mom continues, pulling my gaze back to her.
“I couldn’t,” I whisper, my chest tightening at the sorrow written all over her face. “They were all just so far away.”
“I know,” she says softly, smiling wryly at me. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you think I lied, but I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
“Isn’t that what we’re good at, Mom?” I ask. “Lying because we think it’s the best thing? Is it ingrained into the Fletcher family? Because apparently, we’re all pro’s at it.”
“Beatrice Marie Fletcher.” I jolt at the harsh tone, my mouth gaping in surprise. My mom doesn’t shout, or even raise her voice a little with me. She hasn’t for a long time, even on the days when I probably deserved it. I think she’s always been too fearful of the reaction she may get. “Don’t you dare. I should have told you; you are right about that. But I can see the wheels turning in your head, and we aren’t going to do this today.”
“Mom—”
“No, Beatrice. It’s my turn to talk now,” she says, leaning forward until the only thing filling my screen is her face. “You made a mistake when you were seventeen. You lied to protect yourself. Just as I lied to protect you. Nobody can blame you for that.”
A dry laugh slips past my lips as I mumble under my breath, “Someone can.”
My dad sighs, nudging Mom away from the screen until his pale eyes are on me. “Maverick is angry at the world, Beatrice, and rightfully so, in some ways,” Dad says. “But it’s not on you. He also made a choice back then.”
“You didn’t see him, Dad. And he’s right to be angry at me, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see.” I sigh, resuming my pacing.
“Oh, Beatrice,” Dad says, stopping me in my tracks. A tear has rolled free over my lashes, and I swipe it away with my sweater before bringing my hand to my mouth and chewing on my thumb.
