Page 13 of Maverick
The older I got, however, the more I realized what I did to him. I’d kept him my dirty little secret and in doing so, forced him back into the closet he’d so bravely come out of as a teenager. I couldn’t admit to myself then that he was stronger than I was. My ego was too big for that.
I’d been such a dick to him, and it had taken me way too long to get my head out of my ass. By the time I did, he’d sworn off everything to do with Alabama—including me. He’d been drafted in the second round, and he moved home to Georgia without so much as a glance back.
It wasn’t until I was left all alone in Tuscaloosa that I realized how much he did for me—how much he wastherefor me. By the time that happened, it was too late. I’d gotten a scathing message from his best friend, Stetson, which meant that I was as good as dead.
Glass in my hand, I took down half my margarita. We’d only just started training camp, so if Mav and I couldn’t work through our past, I was in for one hell of a season—especially if he kept takingmeout on thefield.
I’d never been the biggest of creatures, especially in the world of football, but Maverick was a beast. He always had been. The unexpected tackle had been a shock, and I hadn’t had time to brace myself before I went down. My shoulder ached, and I rolled out the sore joint. I’d be fine; I knew that, but something about Maverick having been the one to cause that injury had me a bit more twisted up about it.
“What’d you do?” Beckham’s voice startled me. Frankly, I’d forgotten he was even there.
“Couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” I muttered.
My cousin let out a loud bark of laughter. “Oh, what a fucking surprise.”
“Beck…”
“I’m just saying—you should have learned that lesson by now. Although, Maverick Crawford doesn’t exactly have a history of losing his temper.”
I scoffed and drained the rest of my cocktail, shoving the empty glass at Beckham in a silent demand for another. “How would you know that?”
“You forget who was in the stands at every single one of your college home games,” he said, pulling himself to his feet. “I saw how that man looked at you. I also know howyourattitude was in college and if my advice means anything to you, you need to find a way to apologize to him—soon, if you don’t want this trade to tank both of your careers.”
I crossed my arms on the warm concrete, resting my head. “How do I make himlisten?”
“Don’t give him a choice. Youknowyou fucked up at that party. It’syourfault that man is as hurt as he is. No one else’s. You’ve always acted like you’re better than everyone because you come from money—don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.”
A poor spider crawling across the concrete became the subject of my glare. Not many people had the capacity to shut me up butwhen Beck turned on his “big brother” voice, I had little say in the matter. Besides, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.
Getting picked in the first round of the draft had been unbelievable. I was high on the feeling and when Maverick approached me, I pretended not to recognize him. I had two new teammates behind me, and I was admittedly showing my ass. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes, but I was too in tune to him.
After all, I had spent the last four years getting up close and personal with every inch of his body. I was too scared to admit it then, but I knew what made him tick. I knew what he sounded like when I’d hit just the right spot, the one that brought him so close to orgasm that he damn near lost his mind.
Feeling blood surge south at the simple memory of it all, I groaned and hid my face in my arms. I knew all ofthatwithout being prompted, so how couldn’t I see that I’d hurt him?
Even after the party, I could have answered any one of his calls or text and made it all right—but I hadn’t. I’d pretended like they had never existed…
Likehehad never existed.
And then he turned the tables on me. Of course we’d cross paths on the field, but he never even so much as looked my way. Fortunately for him, I was easy to ignore when we were on separate teams, but now we had to learn to play nice.
Ihad to learn to play nice. Even as I was doing it, I knew that antagonizing Maverick on the field was a bad idea, but it was like I just couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was because I thought I deserved whatever blow he sent my way.
Beckham returned with a drink in each hand, this time dressed to join me in the water. I gestured to his drink, teasing him as he slipped into the pool. “Is there alcohol in that?”
“Oh, hell no. I’ve learned my lesson. Do you know what you’re going to do yet?”
“Not even close. Do you?” I gulped down half my margarita,grateful for the Beckham-appropriate portion of tequila that was already making my head spin.
“Easy. I’m just going to do what I do best: ignore it until it goes away.”
“Beck, he’s youragent,” I laughed. “You’ll have to address this eventually.”
“I’ll do that when you confront your ex-boyfriend.”
“He—” I stopped short, about to do what I always had. College-aged Reese was hell bent on the idea that Maverick Crawford wasnotmy boyfriend, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth.
And I had to make it right.
