Page 51 of Healer's Call

“Why?” Ava demands.

“I just can’t sleep.” My excuse sounds lame even to my own ears.

“Nope. I’ve heard that excuse every day this week. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” Her arms are crossed, and I know she absolutely will not leave until I tell her. She is so stubborn at times. I sigh and drop my face into my hands.

“I think Maverick is with another woman.”

She pulls my hands from my face. “I couldn't hear you. What?” I stare at her as all the anxiety and stress of this week catches up to me. I feel my eyes start to water, and blink furiously to keep the tears at bay. Her face softens. “What is it, Rose? You can tell me.”

“I think Maverick is seeing another woman,” I say miserably.

She frowns. “Why would you think that?”

I sigh again. “I’ve watched him return here almost every single night at three in the morning.”

Her frown deepens. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“He has a bag with him each time.”

“Oh.”

I groan. “Yeah.”

“You don’t know for sure,” she says.

I snort. “How much more do we need to know? I mean what else do you do that late at night that requires sneaking in after everyone’s in bed?”

Ava frowns. “I don’t think Maverick’s the kind of guy to sneak around. I feel like he would just take a woman to bed if he wanted to.”

“Thanks for that image,” I say dryly.

“I’m serious,” she says and stands to her feet. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

My eyes widen. “Ask him?”

“Yeah.”

I laugh humorlessly. “How do you suppose I go about doing that, huh? Hey, I saw you come in late and was wondering where you were? And while we’re at it, how’s your sex life?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “That’s not how you should do it.”

I cover my face with my hands again. “I’m not doing it at all.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.”

“No!” I say before she’s even gotten the words out. “Promise me, Ava. Promise me you will not talk to him about this, not about this.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I won’t talk to him, but I think you should.”

“I can’t,” I moan.

She’s quiet a minute. “What time did you say he gets back?”

“Like three in the morning.”

“When does he leave?” she asks. I look at her sheepishly because I know that time too. “Based on that look, I’m not even going to ask you how you found that out. What time?”

“About ten,” I tell her.

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