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“I don’t get it. She made me feel like I did something wrong. But I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t choose to be born. What—what’s wrong with me, that she couldn’t be my mother but she can be someone else’s? What was wrong with me already when I was two years old?”
“Is that a serious question?” I ask, appalled. When she doesn’t respond, I press lightly on her shoulder, pushing her off my chest. There are no tears that I can see, but anguish and hurt live in her expression all the same. I reach out, cradling her gorgeous face in my hands. “Azalea. Look at me.” I wait until she does. “Your mom’s issues—your parents’ issues—they’re not on you. She wants you to feel guilty for existing? Well, I guess I should feel guilty too, because her getting knocked up is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I’m going for a laugh, but my delivery is off: tone too intense, voice too husky. Azalea’s gaze darkens. Her hands glide up my chest, curl around my neck. She ducks her head close to mine, foreheads brushing, a hard exhale passing her lips.
Several moments pass in heavy silence, and then she slides a soft palm down my face. “Maverick.”
“Hmm.”
“I think—I think I—”
Holy shit.Holy shit,she’s going to say it. And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that I want to hear more, but—
“Hey,” I interject, closing my hand around her wrist. “Zale?”
Her eyes snap up to mine in a panic. “What?”
“Please don’t say that right now,” I say. “Not like this, when you’ve been through the wringer, and you’re still upset.” Reading the embarrassment in her expression, I sit up, folding my arms firmly over her hips to hold her in place. “This is not me rejecting you. This is me wanting to make sure that when you say that to me, it won’t be something you regret later.”
“How do you even know—”
“Because however long you’ve been holding onto that thought, I guarantee I’ve been holding the same thing back for even longer.”
Bright red spots stain her cheeks. I want to kiss them. “But I do.”
“And if you still do in the morning after a good night’s sleep, I’ll want to hear it. And I’ll say it right back.”
“Okay,” she breathes out, barely a whisper. “Okay.”
She relaxes against me, nestling her head back into my shoulder. I run my hands over her hair, her spine. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her shampoo and the body spray she always spritzes over her collarbone.
Four months ago—fourdaysago—I never would have thought it possible that we’d be back here. That I’d be on the cusp of getting everything I’ve wanted since I was eighteen.
When my legs start to go numb, I slide my hands under her butt to support her and stand up off the couch. She makes a little sound of surprise and tightens her arms and legs around me, clinging like a koala. I carry her down the hall to my room and lay her carefully on the bed. “You good?” I ask, leaning over her as she curls into a pillow.
“Yes.” She peels back the covers. “As long as you get in with me.”
I cast a glance at my alarm clock and see that it’s only 6:58. It is November, though, so it’s already dark outside. More importantly, I’m not one to deny Azalea anything—especially not something that I’m also very interested in—so I slide in beside her. She plasters herself against me immediately, pressing her nose to my sternum and her hands to my back.
“I’m exhausted,” she mutters.
“I bet.”
“Is it okay if I fall asleep?”
“’Course, Zale.”
She slides a leg between mine. It’s innocuous, but I’m starting to worry about keeping my dick down. “Don’t leave me, okay?”
“Okay.” Bending my head, I press a kiss to her hair. “I won’t.”
And I mean it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Azalea
Ijerkawake,andit takes me a moment to remember where I am and why there’s a body wrapped around mine. I blink and let remnants of the previous day come back to me. It’s Maverick beside me, chest rising and falling with even breaths.
