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“You’re right,” I said, crossing my arms. “I don’t.I dounderstand that Frankie deserves better than a deadbeat mother. Frankie mentioned she’d sign it for money, right?”
“It’s always money. That’s all she worries about. Money to get her drugs, her booze, and to pay some guy to love her.”
Guilt eased its way down to my chest and rested its head. “Did he say she wanted five hundred?”
Maverick waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have any. I’m getting a job soon—,”
“How do you expect to get a job, go to school, and play football?”
Maverick groaned. “There are guys on the team that manage it. I can, too. Why are you still in here?” he snapped.
“That’s a good question,” I said to myself. “Have fun with your nightmares, Booker. One day I hope you can talk to somebody about why you’re so mean.”
The night crawled for me, the sound of the boys’ snores and the heavy guilt in my mind hindered my ability to sleep. The envelope full of five hundred dollars sat on the dresser like a neon sign.
I didn’t want to give Maverick anything, especially after four years of torment, but Frankie deserved a home that wasn’t chaos.Maverick could give him that, couldn’t he?
When the sun lifted over the wooded area across from the apartments, and the front door shut from Jordan and Maverick’s descent to football practice, I tiptoed into Maverick’s room and placed the money on the center of his made bed.
Maybe all Maverick needed to turn his chilled heart warm was an act of kindness.
***
The day drug by with classes, tutoring, and a quick trip to the bookstore to pick up more folders for my ever-growing collection of schoolwork.
My phone rang as I raced up the stairs to my apartment, and my mother’s face flashed across the screen. I groaned, not wanting to deal with her questions now, I answered anyway.
“Josie Lee!” Dad’s southern draw surprised me.
I relaxed. “Oh, hey, Daddy. Why do you have Momma’s phone?” I asked, unlocking the front door.
“Well, she’s driving, you know she gets carsick if she doesn’t drive.”
I opened the door, and Maverick stood in the living room, waiting on me. “Uh, Dad, can I call you back?”
“Wait,” he said. “We’re actually in Baton Rouge, we want to see your new apartment. Send us the address.”
My mouth opened and silence came out.Oh no… “Well, I’m not at the apartment right now—,”
“We’ll wait for you, maybe grab a bite to eat, your mother was adamant, she said you’ve been ignoring her phone calls.”
Take a hint, Mother!
“Okay,” I swallowed, watching Maverick’s throat move up and down as he swayed on his feet. “I’ll send it to you.”
I hung up, my heart hammering like a jackhammer against my ribs. All my emotions rushed me.What am I going to do?
“Did you do this?” Maverick interrupted my irate thoughts of conjuring a plan.
I glanced up at the envelope full of cash to his mossy stare. “Listen, Frankie deserves better than a deadbeat mother, Maverick. You can pay me back—,”
Maverick dropped the money on the coffee table and pushed me back against the front door. One hand braced beside my head and the other gently—I kid you not—held the back of my neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
My heart fluttered from the sweet tone of his voice, goosebumps rose against my heated skin and crawled down between my legs. “You’re welcome.”
Maverick swallowed hard, his lips brushed gently against my own, never deepening the kiss. “I’ll repay you every cent.”
