Page 98 of Maverick

I shrugged, determination burning in my chest. “Then I’ll make him. One way or another. I’m not leaving you or the baby. I want you both.”

She trembled, tears falling silently. “I… I love you, Maverick. I never stopped. But you hurt me. You left me, and I ended up in that mansion. It nearly killed my spirit.”

My throat closed. “I know. I’m sorry. I was so messed up, thinking you wanted Mark, or that you were safe. I was wrong. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

She blinked, voice choking on a sob. “I don’t know if I can just… trust you completely again. Not yet. But we have a son. I can’t deny that. And I’m so relieved I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

We stood there, gazes locked in a fragile moment. Then she sniffled, shaking her head. “I can’t say yes to marriage until I sort out this divorce. Or see what Mark does. But… I won’t run from you anymore.”

Relief swept through me. I dared to lean in, pressing my lips to hers, tasting the salt from her tears. She gasped, but her arms slipped around my neck, and she kissed me back, a wave of longing surging between us. My heart pounded, breath hitching with the pent-up passion of a year’s separation.

When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers. “We’ll figure out the details. For now, can we at least try to rebuild what we had?”

She clung to my jacket, eyes glimmering. “Yes. Let’s try.”

A soft cry from the baby broke the moment. She pulled away, going to soothe him. I watched with a bittersweet ache. He’s mine. Our child. My chest swelled with both pride and sorrow, thinking of all the milestones I missed. But maybe I’d be there for the rest.

Later that night, after dinner and an uneasy hush settled over the small apartment, I slipped out to the hallway. I found Lexi pacing with the baby, trying to get him to sleep. I touched her shoulder gently, offering to take him so she could rest. She allowed me to cradle him, my heart soaring at the weight of my son in my arms. The first of many moments, I vowed silently.

We’d face Mark’s wrath soon enough. He’d probably unleash every legal trick, maybe send men to find her. But we had the Kings’ protection, and the truth was on our side. Lexi wasn’t a Getty, so Marciano had no claim. Mark had no leverage but threats. Let him come. I’d stand at Lexi’s side now, not cowering in the shadows. She might be Kingpin’s daughter, ironically making me the black sheep dating the boss’s kid, but that was a worry for another time.

Right now, her soft breathing behind me, the baby’s small hand grasping my finger… that was enough. I pressed a gentle kiss to his downy head, tears pricking my eyes. I’d never abandon them again, no matter who tried to tear us apart.

Chapter 50

Lexi

Time had a strange way of both racing forward and standing utterly still in those first two months in Maine. Some days I woke up and felt like everything in my life had changed overnight, separated, living in a cabin near the ocean with a biker, raising my infant son. Other days, it felt like I’d been in this limbo forever, caught between the hush money from the mob, the echoes of my old marriage to Mark, and the new life quietly forming with Maverick.

Those early weeks blurred into a routine that was half domestic bliss, half nervous watchfulness. We’d found a modest ranch-style house on the outskirts of a small coastal town, a place the Kings of Anarchy MC had arranged. It was bigger than the tiny apartment above the clubhouse, with a fenced backyard and enough space for my baby’s crib in a cozy, light-filled nursery. I painted the walls in soft lavender, Nova helping me with the stencils of little stars and moons.

During the day, I nursed the baby, still named publicly as Mark Jr. in some official papers, but privately we called him “Adam” in honor of Maverick’s and his middle name, changed diapers, read my dog-eared law textbooks, and tried not to obsess over Mark’s inevitable legal meltdown. And each night, after dinner, Maverick would help me clean up, his warm presence both comforting and nerve-wracking.

I tried to keep him at arm’s length physically, my body still felt foreign to me after pregnancy, and the emotional scars from everything that happened left me skittish. But Maverick was patient. He never pushed me for intimacy, never made me feel bad about my post-baby body. He just lingered, near enough that I knew he was there for me, yet distant enough to let me set the pace.

My phone calls with the divorce attorney progressed slowly. Mark’s legal team, big shots from his father’s firm, filed every delaying tactic possible. But eventually, the hush money and the fact that I’d left quietly worked in my favor. Mark had no interest in continuing a public fight if it meant risking the mob’s attention. So the days dragged on, punctuated by tense phone calls with lawyers, until at last a settlement formed. I wouldn’t get much financially. I didn’t want it anyway. I had that hush money from Marciano sitting in a secret account, ironically enough. Illegal or not, Mark had no claim to it and was happy to wash his hands of it.

Nova joked that we should use it to open our own law practice somewhere in Maine. We daydreamed about a small storefront in the coastal town, painted white with a sign readingLexi & Nova, Attorneys at Lawor something like that, more likely our last names. Maybe my last name would be Hart by then. But it was just a fantasy, the firm and the marriage. For the moment, I was still adjusting to motherhood, living with Maverick, and trying to get out of a marriage that was, at best, a sham.

Despite the turmoil, Maverick found sweet ways to draw me out of my shell. Every Thursday, he took me on a “date” somewhere in the area. Once, we rode his Harley down the coast to a lighthouse, the wind in my hair and the ocean crashing below. Another time, we went to a quaint farmer’s market. Wewandered aisles of fresh produce while Adam snoozed in a sling pressed to my chest. Maverick would slip an arm around me protectively, his patched leather cut branding him an outlaw among the wholesome families. Yet he fit in so easily at my side, flashing a small grin whenever an older couple cooed over the baby.

He was gentle with me in every sense. If I shied away from physical closeness, he’d back off, but the longing in his eyes never vanished. I saw it in how he lingered over breakfast, in how his fingers grazed mine when handing me the sugar, in how he fixed the squeaky step outside our front door so I wouldn’t trip carrying the baby. He was giving me space, but he was also quietly proving that this time, he wouldn’t abandon me.

Still, I struggled with my postpartum body. My belly remained softer, my hips wider, my moods unpredictable with breastfeeding and hormones. I wore baggy clothes, not wanting Maverick to see how I’d changed. Late at night, I’d cradle Adam in my arms and remember how Maverick once traced every curve of my body. Now I felt unrecognizable, ashamed. If he noticed my insecurities, he never commented, just offered hushed reassurances that I was beautiful. But I usually laughed it off or changed the subject.

My heart still pounded with guilt. I’d been dishonest with him for so long, letting him think I’d chosen Mark, while I was forced into marriage. Even though I knew he understood now, a piece of me felt unworthy of his affection. So I kept him at a distance, physically and emotionally. He noticed, but never demanded. With controlling men surrounding me, Maverick's patience was a comfort.

Maverick was still a Road Monster. He wore the cut with pride, but also an undercurrent of weariness. Kingpin didn’t callthe shots here in the northeast, some other Ace of the Road Monsters had that territory. Meanwhile, the Kings of Anarchy MC, particularly their president, Solo, welcomed Maverick as an ally. The synergy between them grew stronger by the day. But as Maverick’s ties to the club solidified, he found himself missing the solitude of being on the road alone. Except he didn’t want to leave me or the baby.

Chigger had taken off on a run shortly after we arrived. Nova decided to stay with me, living in a small side room until she decided her next steps. I suspected she half-expected Chigger to come back, but she wasn’t holding her breath. She had other plans, like maybe opening that law practice with me someday. We talked about it on slow afternoons, me nursing the baby while she perused local real estate listings on her phone.

“We could do it,” she’d say, pointing to a listing for an old storefront in the harbor town. “Restore it, hang our shingle, become the dynamic duo.”

I smiled at the idea, but a hollow pang reminded me. I can’t start practicing until the dust settles. The last thing I needed was Mark’s father’s firm or the mob sniffing around. I told Nova maybe in a few months.

Two months crawled by. Adam sprouted from newborn to a plump infant, giggling whenever Maverick made funny faces. Nova found a part-time gig waitressing, paying her share of expenses. The hush money covered rent and groceries, so we weren’t exactly starving. My divorce with Mark was finalized with surprisingly little fanfare. One final signature on a stack of documents ended that twisted chapter. A wave of relief crashed over me, I was free. But also, a sliver of fear. Mark was pissed to be losing his heir and claim to his father’s fortune. Signing the divorce papers, his hand had been forced. What if he retaliates?

When I told Maverick that the divorce was done, I expected him to erupt in joy. Instead, he gave me a solemn nod and gently took my hands. “Good,” he said, voice thick with unspoken emotion. “Now we can truly move forward.”

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