Page 106 of A Little Complicated

“I’d want to take care of you whether or not we hooked up, Opie.”

“You sure about that?” I ask. “No offense, but you haven’t exactly been welcoming since I moved in. You’ll have to forgive me for having whiplash.”

With a sigh, he squeezes the back of his neck. “I know I’ve been a dick. I’ve had some personal shit going on, and I was taking it out on you. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.”

Nibbling my bottom lip, I nod slowly. “Dating your brother probably didn’t help.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, not so much, but it’s still no excuse.”

“I guess not.”

“Let me turn over a new leaf.” He sits on the edge of the tub. “Be the guy I was before?”

Before.

Before prom. Before he broke my heart. Before he made me question my sanity, along with every single interaction we’d ever had. Part of me wants to ask why. Why he ended things. Why he broke my heart. The other part? Call me a coward, but I’m not sure I want to know. Not when it doesn’t do me any good. We can’t go back. And with us agreeing we’re okay without labels or complications, why stir the pot? Besides, it’s easier not knowing. Like a barrier. One I know I need to get through if we have any hope of this turning into something more. Having it here? The barrier? It’s a good reminder of the past. Of the things I can’t change about Maverick Buchanan, even if I wanted to. Dealing with the truth is a problem for future Ophelia, and I’m tired of worrying about it.

“Can I get you some medicine or something?” he prods.

I hesitate, unsure whether I should be flattered or annoyed. Maverick’s always been arub-some-dirt-in-itkind of guy and has always left his nurturing instincts on the back burner. The fact he’s here and offering to take care of me is…new. Even when we were secretly dating, he was away at college and couldn’t come by at the drop of a hat. So this? Caring Maverick? I’m not sure how to handle him without going into full-blown swoon mode.

“Why are you looking at me like I have my pants down?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I laugh. “It’s just…this is a new look for you.”

“What is?”

“You being concerned.”

“You can blame Rory,” he replies, mentioning his little sister. “As soon as she hit puberty, she wouldn’t stop complaining about how bad periods are, so I guess I have a soft spot for girls during shark week.”

“Oh, so it’s nothing personal?” I quip.

His mouth lifts in the corner as he reaches for the glass of water I brought in when I took my painkillers. After emptying it in the sink, he scoops up some bath water from the tub and orders, “Lean your head back.”

I tilt my chin up and wait. He pours the water on my head, careful not to get any in my eyes while wetting my roots. I should be embarrassed. My hair is gross from hockey practice, but I’m too curious about the man in front of me to care. Once he’s satisfied it’s wet enough, Mav squeezes some shampoo into his hands, scrubs his palms together, and digs his fingers into my hair. His touch feels incredible as he massages my scalp, turning the shampoo into a rich lather. I close my eyes and almost moan. The tingles along my skull are so good I could lie here for hours.

“Does this feel okay?” he asks.

I open one eye and quirk my brow. “What do you think?”

His lips curve up. “I think you like today’s morsel.”

I laugh as he dips his hands in the water and begins rinsing the suds from my hair.

“And I think you’ve upgraded your morsel game since this spring,” I tell him.

Maverick’s smile fades, and he picks up the conditioner, squeezing a dollop of lavender-scented goodness into his palm and focusing on my ends. “It’s all about the little things, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “I like the little things.”

His eyes fall to mine. “Me too.”

I want to wrap myself up in the softness of his voice. The slight rasp. The careful brush of his fingers. The warmth in his gaze. It’s comforting to see him open up to me again, even if it's only a little bit. I like the way he dotes on me. His attention to detail. His non-sexual touches and how they manage to still leave me tingling.

Once he’s finished washing my hair, he finds a towel in the hallway and drapes it around my shoulders. “Here.”

“Thank you,” I murmur as he rubs his hands up and down my arms, drying me off.

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