Page 20 of Bitter Beats

I don’t answer his questions since it’s none of his damn business. But also, I’m embarrassed by my circumstances. I know there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Serving is honest work.

But the fact that I would have to divulge my financial situation, my parents’ ugly divorce, and the fact that they rarely think of me—in fact, Dad cancelled our dinner plans when Jeannie came down with a nasty head cold—is a hit my pride can’t handle.

Instead, I say nothing. I go about my day. I throw myself into my schoolwork. I try to keep my head above water.

After three weeks, I have enough money in my checking account to breathe a little easier. And then, the sweetest relief comes.

Lia messages me.We got a new guy. You’re early mornings instead of late nights.

When I read the message, my eyes fill with tears. It feels like a win, and triumph fills my veins.

“I did it,” I mutter to myself. Closing my eyes, I let out a slow exhale.I fucking did it.

I collapse in my bed, ready to get my first solid night of sleep in nearly a month.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Mav’s headboard hits the wall.

My tears of relief quickly morph into anger. Making a fist, I hammer back on the wall.

The tempo of his thrusts increases, and I swear loudly.

No way in hell is Maverick stealing my much-deserved sleep.

Popping in my AirPods, I crank up the volume on my Calm app and sink into slumber.

“You lost weight,”Mav comments the following morning.

Because I slept ten hours, I don’t even care that he’s implying I had weight to lose. Not taking the bait, I make myself an espresso.

Mav watches me quietly. “Mckenna.” His voice comes out as a half whisper.

I look up.

“Are you—” He sighs and grips the back of his neck. His blue eyes flash, intent on my face. “Is everything okay?”

Shit. “Fine,” I clip out.

“I’m serious.” He glares at me, his eyes working slowly over my features as though he’ll discover a hidden clue in the bags beneath my eyes or the pillow crease along my cheek.

I close my eyes as I take a sip of my espresso. The rich roast settles me, and the heat brushes over my chin. I inhale and hold it. So damn good. “So am I.” I meet his gaze, keeping my expression neutral.

Please let him buy the bullshit I’m selling.

He stands. Takes a step toward me. Pauses and sighs again. “Look, I know you don’t like me, but if you are in trouble?—”

“I’m not,” I cut him off before he can offer help. I straighten, my spine snapping into place. I lift my chin along with my eyebrows, daring him to challenge me.

I need to shut down his line of questioning before he tries to fix my problems. Fix me. I fucking hate being a charity case. It’s bad enough that I’m living in a brownstone in Boston scot-free.

“Fine,” Mav snaps, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Still, his eyes don’t leave mine.

My skin heats under his gaze, and I feel my cheeks bloom with color. What the hell is going on? Since when does Mav care one way or another if I’m in trouble? I shift uncomfortably and down my espresso. I need to get out of here. Go for a run or head to the library or?—

My phone buzzes.

Lia: Want to pick up a shift today?

---