Worth the Desire

chapter thirty-three

I thank the Uber driver before shutting the door behind me. I wish I had taken a moment to calm my nerves and figure out what I would say. I need to somehow convince Maverick to talk to Sam, but how can I expect him to do that when Sam has been nothing but a pain in the ass.

And now, to find out that Maverick did absolutely nothing to warrant his behaviour. There was nothing I could say to convince him. But I have to try. If not for Sam's sake, then for Maverick. Because he deserves the truth after years of everyone tossing him aside like he wasn't worth it.

I owe it to him to try and clear it up. I don't expect or want them to be friends. I know that'll never happen in this lifetime. But perhaps just to get some answers and maybe put this hatred to rest.

But how do I explain all of this to him? I know it shouldn't come from me. Similar to how Maverick trusted me with his secrets, Sam trusted me with his, and I can't choose one over the other. But even then, how can I get over the knowledge that I know why Maverick's mom didn't want him to visit during the summers? How do I continue our relationship knowing that when my father went to London for his business trips, he was really visiting Maverick's mom? That his mom was choosing my dad over him countless times, year after year.

I can't break his heart more, but I also don't know how to move on knowing that and not being able to share it with Maverick.

I heave a deep sigh that fills my lungs as a nervous pang spreads across my chest. The cold nips at my cheeks and the tip of my nose. My legs are frozen beneath my sweatpants while my fingers sweat from within my mittens.

I'm dying to retreat into the warmth of his apartment. But I still take a few minutes to collect myself before straightening my spine and looking up.

I startle when I find Maverick standing outside with his hand shoved into his pockets and his head cocked on an angle. His dark hair is ruffled, the tops of his ears are red, and his skin is flushed. His golden eyes peer down at me, studying me as a white puff of air escapes his lips.

"What are you doing standing out here in the cold?"

I should be asking him that. Was he waiting out here for me?

But as I study the boots on his feet, the snow trailing his heels, I realize he just got home.

I ignore his question and the weight that settles in the pit of my stomach as I approach him, "Did you just get home?"

He flashes me a soft, timid smile that doesn't suit him. I'm used to his brazen remarks and teasing smiles that display his dimple. But now, none of that is visible. It's almost like he can feel the palpable tension this conversation will brew.

"Um, yeah. I was at my dad's," he sighs, inhaling a deep breath before exhaling and slumping further.

My brows shoot up high. That's the last place I expected him to be. While he's explained what happened between them, he didn't know how he felt about his father for lying to him for years. I wouldn't have blamed him if he wanted to hold a grudge.