Page 59 of A Little Tempting

I let Maverick go. “For real, though. You don’t look like you had the shit kicked out of you anymore.”

“I guess,” he concedes, rubbing his chest, though I doubt he realizes it. “Still feels like it.”

“You’ll be all right.”

“Glad one of us is sure.” Another dry laugh rumbles from him, and he tilts his head toward the inside of his house. “Come on in.”

I’ve visited Maverick’s childhood home a few times, but the place never ceases to amaze me. Dark wood. Light walls. Photographs hung, each one sporting a happy little family. It’s clean and homey and smells like money. Okay, not literally. It smells like…I lift my nose and sniff. No alcohol. No piss. No smoke. No artificial bullshit to cover the underlying stench that doesn’t wash out no matter how much you scrub. Just…clean.

Sometimes, I forget Mav and his family are loaded. They don’t flaunt it. Don’t wave it around or use it to leverage what they want. But even though their house is tasteful and shit, you can still feel it. The wealth. The class. It lingers in the air, reminding me how much I don’t belong.

Noticing his family’s German Shepherd is missing, I ask, “Where’s Kovu?”

“Rory took her to my grandparents’,” he answers, mentioning his little sister.

“The dog?”

“Yeah.” Maverick forces a smile and squeezes the back of his neck. “She doesn’t go anywhere without him lately.”

Lately.

As in, since Archer’s death.

With a slow nod of understanding, I close the front door behind me and tuck my hands into my pockets near the entrance. Forcing my feet to move, I follow Maverick further into the house. There’s a sitting area to the right of the entryway. Maverick steps down the single stair, his bare feet hitting the fluffy carpet, and he makes his way to one of the leather couches. Slipping off my shoes, I follow him to where Griffin and Everett have already made themselves at home.

“So, you guys think you’re ready for the first game?” Maverick asks.

Griffin props his feet on the coffee table in front of him and threads his fingers behind his head. “Dude, we fucking suck. Seriously. We miss you on the ice.” He hesitates. “Both of you.”

Maverick’s head falls forward as if the words and the mention of his brother are a physical blow. He clears his throat when he looks up again. “Yeah, I get it. I miss it, too, and, uh, if Archer was here, I know he’d feel the same.”

I glance around the room, curious to see how Ev and Griffin feel about Maverick saying Archer’s name aloud. At our house, it’s basically the equivalent of He Who Must Not Be Named.

They’re tense. Like they’re sitting on the edge of a cliff, so I decide to push them over.

A little exposure therapy never hurt anyone, right?

“You know what I love about Archer?” I ask.

“What do you love?” Mav murmurs. The same undertone of melancholy taints his words, but he’s trying. I can see it, and so do the guys.

“I love how, no matter how shitty we play, he always finds a way to put a positive spin on it,” I tell him.

“Yeah, we could use his positivity right about now.” Griffin laughs. It’s forced, but it’s progress, and I wanna fucking applaud the guy for giving it a shot. “Remember when I split my chin open on the ice?”

Everett chuckles beside him, his muscles softening as he shifts on the couch. “He told you chicks dig scars.”

“Or the time I failed one of my tests freshman year, and I knew I’d be on the bench?” I add.

“At least you won’t have to hear Jaxon bitching about everything you did wrong while he’s on his man period,” Griffin finishes for me, mimicking Archer’s voice. He snorts. “Yeah, and take it from me, since I’m Jaxon’s little brother, Archer wasn’t wrong. The guy canbitch.”

We all laugh a little harder.

“Remember the one time when I bailed on Opie on prom night, and Archer stepped in?” Maverick’s eyes mist, and fuck me, it’s like a dagger to my own empty chest. “Yeah. I should’ve thanked the fucker for making her night when I wound up ruining it.”

“Always taking one for the team.” I grab Maverick’s shoulder and shake him jokingly.

With a sad smile, he turns to me and nods. “Yeah, man. Definitely Archer’s MO.”

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