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I opened my mouth but stopped.
Maverick ran his palm over his face roughly and let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re joking,” he said. “How. When?”
I tucked my hair. “It doesn’t matter—,”
“It does,” he insisted, dragging my chin upward to look at him. He looked fierce and angry with himself, lines formed between his brows and he frowned. “Tell me.”
“At the barn,” I whispered. “The one party I went to, when you shoved me against the building, a nail—or something—pierced my back.”
Maverick closed his fist repeatedly, tighter and tighter until his fingers turned white. Sadness rested in his eyes while his mouth turned to a thin line of anger. “I—I’m so sorry, Josie.”
“I’ve forgiven you, Maverick—,”
He jolted upright. “I don’t deserve it.” I watched him start to gather our things and gestured for me to move so he could pack our blanket.
“Wait,” I said, placing my palm on his chest. “Stop, I want to stay and talk—,”
“No,” he ordered. “We’re going back to the apartment and I want to see everything I did to you. Do you have any more scars?”
I did.
I tossed my arms out wide. “What is that going to accomplish?”
Maverick balled the blanket up and shoved it roughly into the basket. “I’m going to see everything I did to you because I need to know how badly I hurt you. I’m going to make up for every mark I made on you if it takes the rest of my life. I’m not like them!” he shouted.
Maverick didn’t give me a chance to ask whom before he hauled me toward his pickup with a determination I was scared to question.
Chapter Eighteen
Maverick
I hurt her. More so than I ever realized I did. Sure, I’d shoved her into lockers, and knocked her books down, but this—this—I didn’t know when I pushed her against the wall that I’d leave a scar.
I’m such an idiot.Would it help to know I’d caused her more pain? Probably not, but I needed to know. How would I make it up to her if I didn’t know the extent of it?
I curled my fingers around my steering wheel, trying to block out the image of that night. I’d been so mean, so cruel because seeing her have fun brought me back to it all.
“Maverick,” Josie’s soft voice came from beside me. “I know you bullied me, but we both know you didn’t know that nail was there—,”
I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. The hot Louisiana air tried hard to suck the breath from my lungs. Even with my air conditioner on full blast, I felt sticky with sweat and regret. “It doesn’t matter, stop making excuses for me. You’re not like her. You’re not like my mom.”
Josie frowned and folded her hands on her lap. “No, I’m not like your Mom, Maverick. I believe you deserve forgiveness. Whatever happened to you, Maverick, I don’t know what it is, but I’m here for you.”
I hated hearing her this way. I almost rather her hate me than act like me scarring her wasn’t a big deal. We swerved into the parking lot, and I grabbed our basket.
Josie followed behind me slowly and stopped when she realized I walked into her room and waited. She stood in the doorway, looking concerned. The TV blasted from my room where Frankie sat, so I reached behind her and shut her door.
“What are we doing, Maverick?” she asked softly.
“Show me.”
Her brows pinched together. “Maverick—,”
“Please,” I asked, closing my eyes. “I want to see what I did.”
Josie’s gaze dropped to the carpeted floor. The mix of emotions on her face made my chest beat wildly. With a sigh, she pointed toward her knee. “When you shoved into me on the first day of senior year, I fell and scarred my knees on the rocks outside of the gym auditorium.”
My eyes traveled down to her knee. I clenched and unclenched my fist repeatedly until I felt my anger grow wild.
