He’s always right.
The next morning is Tim’s funeral.
It’s brutal.
There’s no other way to describe it. There are no good funerals. People cry and grieve and make threats at God. It’s about paying respect, but mostly it’s about giving people a venue for their grief.
So I make use of it, as does everyone else. Tears are shed. The collective sorrow is enough to make the driest eyes give in.
But it’s not until later, when the team has hiked up Mount Ferguson, that we find the peace amongst the sorrow.
We’re all there, except for Jace, who is on leave, and Riley.
Tony said he texted her and she never answered back.
Neil said he did the same.
I want to throttle him for that but for once he’s saying it with such sincerity that I manage to be grateful that he cares.
After all, I didn’t even text her.
Because I’m a motherfucking coward.
But after we pay our respects to Tim on the mountain and start hiking back down, I know that my team is still here and they need a leader and Riley is on that team.
So I text. I call.
No response. No answer.
And so I finally show up at her house, banging on the door in my old math teacher’s backyard.
No answer. No one’s home. Her blinds are up too and I’m peering through her window like a peeping Tom, hoping to get a glimpse of her. But there’s no sign of her anywhere. In fact, her suite looks super clean and bare and I’m starting to fear that maybe she left. Maybe she had enough. Why not? Why the fuck would she stick around after everything that happened? I mean, I pretty much blamed a death on her.
I’m such a fucking asshole.
I don’t want to go home though because I don’t want to deal with Fox. Maybe some cuddle time on the couch with Chewie wouldn’t be a bad thing but she’ll lose interest after a few moments. I can only buy her love with treats.
I don’t want to go to the office either. I’ll likely be alone and it will remind me too much of all we lost.
So I head to the only other place I go.
The Beartrap Pub.
17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Riley
“What are you drinking?” Del asks me. From the tone of her voice, I know she’s being extra gentle, extra cautious. I have to say I appreciate it, but for once I just want things to go back to normal. Whatever normal was.
“Beer,” I tell her and then as she nods and grabs one out of the fridge, plunking a bottle of Kokanee in front of me.
You know, Kokanee, the beer with the glacier on the label, the glacier where I almost died, where an avalanche buried Tim.
I stare at it for a moment and Del quickly whisks it away, putting down a Corona instead. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly.
I try and give her a smile. How is she to know that a certain beer is a trigger now?
I gulp back most of the Corona and try to shrug some feeling into my shoulders.
Today was another rough day. It was Tim’s funeral.
I actually went. I know I wasn’t invited or maybe that’s not how it works with funerals, but I went. I stayed behind in the shadows, lurking between graves like they do in the movies. I didn’t feel welcome, I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want to miss it either.
But while I went to the funeral to pay my respects to the man we should have been able to save but couldn’t, I stayed away from the memorial hike that the team was doing. Tony first texted me about it, then Neil. I just couldn’t go. It wasn’t just that Maverick would be there and it would be awkward (though that was it too), it was that they’d worked with Tim for a long time and I barely knew him. It felt like I’d be intruding on a moment that I didn’t earn.
With all that going on, plus feeling antsy without having been to work, I decided the pub was the best course of action. Now I know there’s a chance that Maverick could come in here and honestly, I don’t know what I’d do, though I’ll admit I put on a dress and tights and did my makeup, just in case, just so he sees what he’s missing, what he’s lost.
But more than that, I need the company, I need to be out of my house and around people. I need to feel a part of this world.
“So how are you doing?” Del asks with soft eyes. “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just worried about you. Rachel too. I can’t imagine what you’ve both gone through.”
I swallow and nod, hating the mention of Maverick but I play along and save face, pretending that we’re still a team of two.
“I heard about Maverick,” she then says. “What he did to you.”
I glance at her and sigh. “How?”
“Fox,” she says with a shrug. “He lives with him and Fox tells me everything.”
Not everything, I think to myself.
“Hey, I’m no expert on men,” she says, leaning on her elbows across the bar. It’s fairly early in here still but there’s a few people around. She lowers her voice. “But I’ve never seen Maverick have it bad for anyone before. He had it bad for you. I heard he turned into a pile of shit for a moment there, according to his brother at least, but I know Mav. I grew up with him. The man might be many things, but he has a good heart. He really does.”
I sigh and finish the rest of the beer, waving the empty bottle at her. She gets me another. “I know,” I say, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. “I can see he does. I feel it. But I think I was just thinking too much of it. You know how that is, don’t you? Falling for someone who might not fall for you the same way, let alone fall for you at all.”
I’m hitting a raw nerve here. She almost flinches. She turns around so her hair covers her face. “Yeah,” she says, trying to sound light but I know better.
I don’t want to make this about Del though. She has her own issues to sort out and I have mine. I have so many issues, I have to fucking wade through them.
As much as I want to talk about Maverick with her, hell I’ll talk about anything just to have some connection with someone, the bar starts getting busier and she’s in high demand. I finish the beer and am about to switch to wine when I feel a presence behind me.
My heart lurches. I don’t even have to turn around to see who it is. I know. My body knows. Every single hair on my arm, at the back of my neck, is standing straight up.
Maverick.
I try and swallow, to relax, to play it cool and maybe he’ll move on but there’s a reason he’s standing right behind me as I’m sitting at the bar and it isn’t to get a drink.
“Riley,” he says, clearing his throat.
I take in a deep breath through my nose and meet Del’s eyes for a moment as she slings someone a drink. Her hazel eyes say good luck.
I slowly look over my shoulder to see Maverick standing right there and even though I knew it was him, just seeing him in the flesh makes me want to crumble to my knees.
It’s too much. He’s too much. And I’m still hurting.
Come on Riley, toughen the fuck up.
I paste on a blank expression, not quite friendly, not quite mad, not quite anything. “Hey,” I tell him.
My eyes catch his. I don’t want to see him clearly, don’t want to pick up on every nuance of his expression. The way his dark, arched brows come together, the slant of his mouth, the wariness in his eyes. He’s afraid of this encounter, probably afraid that I might throw the bowl of peanuts in his face.
But even though I’m hurt, I’m no longer angry. Because when it comes down to it, I understand why he did it. I don’t like it but I understand.
I’m one step closer to being a real adult.
“Can I talk to you?” he asks.
“You’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?”
“In private,” he says, eyes darting around the room. They focus on someone and I follow his gaze. By the jukebox I see Jace along with some guys I don’t know.
“I guess he’s doing better,” I say. “Have you talked to him?”
/>
“No more than I’ve talked to you,” he says, his eyes coming back to mine. “And that’s why I’m here. To talk. In person. To apologize.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Where will you even begin?”
“Look,” he says, his voice sharp. Then he sighs and runs a hand down his face, looking up to the ceiling. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk to you, that’s all. I know you have things you need to say to me too.”
“Why say anything when I could just kick you right in the balls?”
He flinches. “I deserve that. If that’s what you want to do.”
I give him a wry look. “I’m kidding. Kind of. But believe me, you don’t want to open that can of worms tonight. Especially when I haven’t moved onto my third drink.”
Mav snaps his fingers at Delilah, his face grim, and surprisingly, Del responds and slides me another beer. It’s not wine, but it will do. I take it, giving her a grateful smile, and then drink nearly the whole thing in one go.
He watches me intently. “Take all the time you need.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “That’s not all because of you, by the way. Or Tim.”
I don’t even know why I said anything but Mav is now peering at me closer. “What happened?”
I chew on my lip for a moment, wondering how much to share. But he’s the only one who knows about Levi. “I got an email from Levi’s parents. He’s dead. They took him off life support.”
He raises his brows, swallowing hard. “Riley…I am so sorry.”
I nod a few times, finish the rest of the beer. “It’s okay. In a sick, selfish way, it’s actually good. It gave me the closure I needed. It still hurts but…at least I know that I was okay to move on. Because that’s what I’ve been trying to do and it’s been working but in the back of my head I was always afraid of being disrespectful. You know, Levi and I were never together, not like you and I were, but my heart was there and when I started to move on…move on to you…I felt bad. Now…I have peace. So does his family. And I know he does too.”
Silence falls between us for a moment, both of us taking it in.
“Come with me,” Mav says, taking my arm and pulling me off the stool.
I’m just ornery enough to pull back and tell him to keep his hands off me, but honestly, I like that he’s touching me. I like that he’s here. As hard as this is and how angry I am, I need this. We need this.
He leads me around the bar and toward the restrooms, taking me into a room at the end that says Employees Only.
“Where are we?” I ask as we step inside the dark room. He flicks on the lights.
It’s the storeroom. There’s a desk, computer, crates and boxes full of beer and wine, a cot in the corner with a pillow and bedspread.
“Is this where Del lives?” I ask, horrified. It’s like that episode of Riverdale when you find out Jughead lives in the theatre projection room.
“No,” he says, giving me an odd look. “She lives with her mother. This is just for when people drink too much and there’s no way for them to get home.”
“How many times have you slept in here?” I ask, crossing my arms and looking around.
“Way too many to count.”
I smile at that and then stop myself. I shouldn’t be smiling at him at all, not after every horrible thing he did. I’m mad at him. I should never stop being mad, no matter what he has to say. It’s just that it’s so easy to talk to him, so easy to slip into what’s comfortable.
God, I miss this.
I don’t want to lose this.
And yet it’s already gone.
I slip my mask on and attempt to harden my heart. “What do you want, Mav?”
He licks his lips and takes a step toward me. I take an instinctive step back, though I know I’ll hit the wall if I keep going.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he says, his voice low. “And I know no amount of apologizing or groveling will make up for it. That I can’t erase the words I said and I certainly can’t erase the way they made you feel. But, please, Riley. I am so sorry. So fucking sorry.”
I swallow. My words come out thick when I say, “Is that all?”
“No.” He shakes his head, takes another step toward me. “It’s not all. It will never be all. Riley, I put the blame on you and that wasn’t fair. It was wrong and honestly, I never meant it at all. You had nothing to do with Tim’s death. Neither did I. It was just the way it went. It was luck.”
“There’s no such thing as luck,” I say quietly. “Only timing.”
“Either way, I was wrong. You need to know I didn’t mean any of it. They were all lies.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because…fuck. I was scared. I was hurt, I was grieving and I know it’s no excuse at all but I honestly just wanted to…I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know…”
“I didn’t know what to do,” he says, grabbing my hand and holding it tight. I try to pull it out of his but I can’t, his grip is too strong. “No, I’m not letting go of you, not now. Not until you know I didn’t mean a word. I fucked up. I panicked and fucked up and I hurt you and I’ll never ever forgive myself. You and I, we were never a mistake. Ever. Those were more lies. When it comes to us, I don’t regret a fucking thing, you hear that? Not a damn thing.”
“It’s too late,” I whisper to him, trying to avoid his eyes. The earnest way he’s searching my face, pleading. He’s not on his knees but he is on the inside. He means everything he’s saying. Still… “It doesn’t erase the pain.”
“I know.”
“Mav, you knew I was vulnerable. You knew what happened with Levi, you knew I was still traumatized over what happened and you threw it in my face!”
“I’m sorry!” he cries out.
“You can be sorry all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that in the face of trauma, in the tragedies that you need to be able to face, you acted like nothing more than a stupid little boy, running away from all your problems and not giving a fuck who you hurt!”
“I gave a fuck!” he yells at me, his face red. “I gave a fuck about Tim, about everyone! And most of all I gave a fuck about you! I gave a fuck about you Riley, when I didn’t even know if you’d care!”
“What?!” I screech. “You –”
I’m cut off.
His lips are mashed against mine, violent as a thunderstorm and I’m caught in the updraft. His body, big and strong and unforgiving, presses against me and I’m pushed backward until my back thuds against the wall.
His hands go around my waist, into my hair.
I have a second where I think I should push him back and my hand goes to his chest to do so but then his tongue is dancing with mine, lips ravenous, taking, taking, taking, and then I’m craving him like never before.
I can’t quit this man even if I tried.
I kiss him back, my mouth growing hungrier by the moment. But there’s no tenderness here. Not in our mouths, our teeth clacking against each other, not in our hands that pull and squeeze and grab. Not in the way I’m being pushed against the wall, my head hitting the back of it.
Not in the way that he reaches down with his big hands and pulls up the hem of my dress and then reaches between my legs and rips a hole in the crotch of my tights.
There is so much anger and pain here, from the both of us. I know this is a mistake, I know that this isn’t fixing our problems but I just want to feel him, I want him to fuck me like crazy. I want to know I have him deep physically, even if it’s not in his heart.
We’re not even talking. There’s nothing to be said. We speak with our bodies, rough and violent and desperate.
We’re so desperate.
He hoists me up against the wall and I wrap my legs around his waist and he brings his cock out of his jeans. He slams into me, hurtling deep inside, with so much force, I cry out in pain.
But then the air returns to my lungs and I grab a hold of his hair and I pull until his eyes
roll back and I’m biting his neck, his collarbone, making marks, trying to draw blood, trying to create permanence.
He responds by fucking me harder, rougher. I look in his eyes and there’s nothing but rage and absolution. Rage for himself, for destroying what was, absolution for what he did to me. He’s trying to fuck it out of his soul, to make atones for what he did. For the things that happened beyond his control.
I know this because I feel it too. I feel it in the way Tim died, how Jace was buried, even in knowing Levi is finally gone. I feel everything and he’s making me feel everything, transferring the inner pain to the physical.
And yet this pain, unlike the others, is sweet.
It’s sweet because I love this man.
I still love this fucking man.
Maverick’s teeth are bared as he comes and he groans loudly, a whimper that builds and deepens and it’s enough to set me off.
The orgasm is abrupt, a sneaker wave that grabs you when you’re not looking, then pulls you under, pummeling you with force until you can’t take it anymore.
Until you’ve drowned.
“Oh God!” I cry out. “Fuck!” My nails dig into his skin, a last bout of violence, and we’re both riding out the wave, this powerful spinning force that has him shuddering his release into me.
We breathe for what seems like ages.
In and out.
Our chests rising. Falling.
My fingers are pressed so hard into his meaty shoulders, they’re actually cramping and hurt to straighten out.
He holds me against the wall, large hands around my tiny waist, and then pulls out. I’m gently lowered but I can hardly stand.
What the fuck just happened?
That wasn’t makeup sex. I don’t think we made up at all. That was just…
I’m speechless. My mind and body are reeling.
And Maverick is staying by my side. He reaches for the hem of my dress and gently pulls it down off my waist. Though he’s still breathing hard, his forehead sweaty, he’s not going anywhere.