Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
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Dressed in one of Maverick's shirts and my underwear, I grab my phone and play the recording he sent me just before slipping out into the kitchen to fix us some dinner. The scratch and muffled voices filter through, and I fold my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
I don't recall half the things Elijah said, my mind still grappling over Sam and what had happened the week before. But now, hearing him continue to belittle and threaten me boils the blood beneath my veins.
What's more upsetting is it sounds like I froze, scared, allowing him to walk all over me. It's frustrating that he assumes he can throw his weight around and talk to me in such a way without any consequences.
Once I get to Maverick's confrontation with Elijah, I stop the recording and edit that part out, not bothering to hear what Elijah has to say about me when I'm not there.
I send the recording to Jenny, adding more proof to my claim that he's been harassing me at work, and drop my phone, where it disappears under a mount of blankets.
My chest swells at the idea of Maverick doing this for me. It's like he knows when to step in and when not to, without me needing to explain why I need to be the one to fight my battles. Maybe I don't need to tell him; since he's so keenly aware of what I'm usually thinking and feeling, I'm sure he's assumed the reason for my need to be my own saviour.
There's a soft knock at the door, and just as I peer up from over my knees, it swings open, and Maverick walks in with a bowl of stirfry. Throwing on some joggers before slipping out, they hang low on his shapely hips, accentuating the indents and muscles along his waist and torso.
I blink up to his face as he approaches closer to find that he's sporting a grin, his single dimple on his right cheek on display. My breath halts in my throat at the sight of that dimple. I still find it bizarre whenever it's directed at me. I never thought he would be genuinely happy to see me or stand being in the same vicinity for all the things my brother did to him, plus my actions to support my brother's unwarranted claims. We have a lot to talk about, mainly my brother and what he said at the party last week. And if he's willing to share, I would love to know what made him leave town for a week and where he went.
He hands me the bowl before settling in next to me. The bed dips, and I cross my legs beneath me as I turn slightly towards him. "Don't worry, I didn't cook. I don't even know how. Ryan brought some leftovers," he jokes when I eye the stirfry.
I chuckle under my breath and scoop a mouthful into my mouth. I hum at the savoury flavours that explode in my mouth. Mia always has a knack for mixing Indian spices into different cuisines, which always tastes fantastic.
But the mention of my friends reminds me that I need to let them know about my situationship with Maverick. Just the thought of making Maverick hide me like a secret sent a wave of unease down my spine. I hate doing that to him, and I hate keeping secrets from my friends. Especially after everything they did for me over the years.
