Page 30 of Bitter Beats

Desperate for a connection to her, even though logically, I shouldn’t care, I message back.

Me: Want to have Christmas dinner together?

I hold my breath as I wait for the message to send and—it bounces. Undeliverable. Ugh. Why do I do this to myself?

The loud voices from outside reclaim my attention and I stride to my bedroom door, about to grab the doorknob and demand Mav tell me what the hell is happening.

Before I can do so, he barrels into my room, colliding directly with me.

“Shit!” he says as his bare chest presses against me.

Mav wraps his arms around my waist to keep me from toppling, but it’s too late. I’m half asleep, and his frame, tall, large, too muscular for his own good, is strong. I tip over like a domino, taking him with me.

“Oof,” I wheeze as my breath is pushed from my lungs.

“Jesus, Mckenna.” Mav pushes off me quickly, his expression horrified. His eyes are wide and unblinking as he gently tugs me into a seated position. One of his hands cradles the back of my head as the other runs down my arm, the side of my body, checking for injuries. “Breathe, just breathe. You’re okay.”

His voice, rich, deep, and soothing, is nearly as startling as his presence in my bedroom.

I gulp for oxygen. As my mind clears, my lungs catch on, and I inhale a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh. My hands runover the sides of my head, pushing the tangled strands of my bedhead away from my face.

Beside me, Mav is still. Unspeaking. He releases me but remains seated on the floor, his arms dangling in between his long legs, bent at the knees.

Jesus, did something happen?

I frown, recalling our last communication. I texted him to say I’m sorry and he…never replied.

My eyes snap to his, and when I note the direction of his gaze—settled on the flimsy, satin sleep shorts and tank top I sleep in, I blush. I cross my arms over my chest even though it’s too late to conceal that I’m braless. And my nipples are pointing toward him like a homing beacon. If anything, all I do is create the illusion of cleavage.

At my movement, his eyes meet mine. He ducks his head in a half-assed apology and clears his throat.

“What’s going on?” I ask, shifting to stand.

Mav stands beside me, and not for the first time, I note how tall he is. How long and lean and—gah!Stop thinking about Mav like this.

I must be sleep deprived.

Maybe I’m still drowning in the emotional turmoil that caused me to cry myself to sleep last night. Or my financial woes?

God, I hope I’m not having a mental break or?—

“I fucked up.” His voice interrupts my thoughts.

I roll my lips together to keep the snarky words, my default around him, at bay and plop down on the edge of my bed. If anyone can understand fucking up on a monumental scale, it’s me. Wiping sleep from my eyes, I try to put the pieces together, but nothing clicks into place. “What? What do you mean?”

Mav heaves a sigh and sits beside me. It’s weird, sitting this close to him in the intimacy of my bedroom. Our hands, histanned and tatted, mine pale and slender, resting in the space between us, close enough to touch.

“Fuck, I fucked up so goddamn badly,” he admits.

I look at him, noting the shame and—is that regret?—that twists his mouth and darkens his eyes.

Something in me, maybe just the recognition that he’s hurting and I’m so achingly low, has me reaching out. Moving my hand. Placing it gently on his thigh.

His head whips toward mine. The tattoos along his rib cage twist. “Mckenna.” His voice cracks as if he’s scared of what my kindness means. How sad is that? He doesn’t trust my intentions because I’ve never shown him anything but snark. Attitude.

“What happened, Mav?” My voice is low. Partly it’s from sleep, but it’s also layered with understanding. One broken person to another, even though I have no idea who broke Mav.

He slips his hand from the space between us and lays it down on mine. His palm is warm. His fingertips are callused. The hand of a musician—tough skin with a gentle touch. He can beat a drum as skillfully as he can coax a reaction from my body.

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