Page 62 of A Little Complicated

If I could only stop caring about Maverick. If I could only stop thinking about him. If I could let him go… Would I be happy?

Honestly, I don’t know.

And I freaking hate it.

20

MAVERICK

Ifucked up.

The three words circle in my brain like a carousel, making my stomach churn as I stare at the white ceiling in my bedroom.

It’s still hazy. A blur. Only snippets rise to the surface, but they’re jumbled and out of order. Something about whiskey dick, wet dreams, and feeling Ophelia’s hands on my naked torso as she took off my shirt.

Otherwise, I’m clueless.

And filled with shame.

I shouldn’t have gone to SeaBird. Shouldn’t have gotten wasted. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be second-guessing what I said to my brother’s girlfriend in the middle of the night when he was asleep in the next room.

Tossing my forearm over my eyes, I try to block out the memory. Nausea rolls up my throat, and I bend over the side of the bed, puking into the garbage can Ophelia set aside for me.

I’m not sure why she helped me in the bathroom. Not sure why she took me to bed and tucked me in. Not sure why she grabbed me some medicine or if she looked at my hard-on when I pointed it out to her. I’m not sure if she mentioned it to Archer, either. He would kick my ass if she did, but I’d deserve it.

Sometimes I wanna kick my own ass. For the things I think about. The things I want. The woman I want. Even after everything that’s happened.

After cleaning up my mess in the garbage can, I slowly make my way down the hall.

The scent of coffee wafts from the kitchen, along with low voices. My stomach finally feels like it’s settling since I’ve finished cleaning its contents out. Good. At least something’s going my way.

I step into the kitchen and stop short.

Ophelia’s ass is on the counter, and her legs are spread. Archer stands between them. The same shirt she wore last night is bunched around her waist. Tiny black shorts play peek-a-boo with my restraint as she leans back on her elbows, smiling up at him.

Archer.

My twin.

My best friend.

My fucking nemesis if he keeps looking at her like this. Like she’s his world when she’s always been mine.

Throwing her head back, she laughs as Reeves steps around me into the kitchen. When she catches the movement, her head snaps in my direction, and she freezes.

“Hey, man,” Archer greets Reeves before his eyes fall on me. I wait for hatred to fill them, but it doesn’t. He lifts his chin. “Hey. You want bacon?”

Sawdust clogs my throat, but I force it back. “Sure. Thanks.”

He plates my breakfast and offers it to me. “Heard you had a rough night.”

“Yeah,” Reeves adds. “You should’ve seen him at SeaBird. The guy was fucking wasted.”

“Thanks for the sympathy,” I joke.

“Jaxon warned you, man. Gotta take it easy on the tequila before the season starts.”

“The season doesn’t start until the end of September. I think I’ll be fine.”

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