Page 81 of Bitter Beats

Her fingers wrap around the jewelry pouch, and she eyes me skeptically. “What is it?”

“You suck at receiving presents. I’ll have to buy you more,” I joke.

She laughs lightly and unties the pouch’s drawstrings. Gently, she shakes out the brooch inside, holding it flat on her palm. Mckenna gasps. “This is, it’s just like my grandma’s.” Her eyes dart to mine. “It’s the one we saw in New York City.”

I like watching how pleased and surprised she looks. I love how her eyes lighten, and a genuine smile crosses her lips. “Merry Christmas, Mckenna.”

“Maverick,” she breathes my full name, and it sounds like a prayer. Reverent and deeply personal. “I don’t know what to say.”

Emotion swims up my throat. I clear it away. “Say you’ll wear it in good health.”

Her eyes flick to mine again. This time, they hold. She closes her hand around the brooch. “Thank you. Truly.”

The moment stretches between us, filled with regret and understanding. Layered with expectation and desire. I stare at Mckenna until she blinks, and then the spell ends.

I lean back against the pillows. Grabbing the remote control, I move to push play.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she admits, embarrassed.

I laugh. “That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“Neither was I.”

I smile at her. “I’m glad I could surprise you then.”

Mckenna nods and wraps up the brooch. She sips her wine, and something passes through her eyes. A quiet acceptance, a sincere resolve. “Press play, Mav.”

I start the movie.

Mckenna and I hang out in the fort we built and eat popcorn until we fall asleep. It’s the best Christmas Eve I’ve had in years because I got a gift I never knew I wanted.

Mckenna’s friendship.

TWENTY-SEVEN

MCKENNA

“It’s snowing!”Mav whoops.

“Really?” I turn in the barstool, my mug of coffee in hand.

“Ready for a snow day?”

“What?” I laugh. There’s something about Mav—his energy, his allure—that continuously pulls me out of my comfort zone. I don’t know why I give in to him, but his charm is irresistible. Especially when the sincerity behind his playfulness shines through. Since Christmas Eve, all through Christmas Day, and on the handful of days since, he’s gone out of his way to make me feel comfortable, to put us back on stable ground.

Even though I can’t stamp out the shadows in my mind—in fact, they’re growing clearer each time they appear—Mav’s presence keeps me centered. Knowing I’m in his home, with him, reminds me I’m safe.

“Come on! Let’s go make snow angels,” he suggests.

“Before breakfast?”

He gives me a look like I’m daft, and I laugh, tossing my hand in the air. “Fine.” My phone beeps with an incoming text. I shudder when I read Branson’s name. Ice sweeps through my veins, causing my shoulder blades to pinch together.

Branson: Our clinic begins January 27. Can’t wait to collaborate with you.

I flip the screen of my phone facedown.

“Who is it?” Mav asks.

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