Page 24 of Maverick
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I was tempted to dropthe matter altogether. I thought seeing tears in Maverick’s eyes was the worst sight ever, but I wassohorribly wrong. I’d never seen such…hurtbefore. He wasn’t even upset, he was angry, and rightfully conflicted. Standing there, I practically witnessed the war of emotions happening behind those swirling hunter eyes.
“Your block shedding technique is off,” I finally blurted. “You?—”
“That’swhy you’ve been following me around like a sad little puppy all day?” He scoffed and shook his head, reaching for his helmet as the whistle blew to continue the game. “You still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”
“That’s not?—”
“Save it, Reese. It’s my own fault for thinking you were different.”
If the worst feeling ever was knowing that I hurt that man, then watching him walk away from me became a close second. I stared after the retreating number thirteen on his back, wondering if the ache in my chest was even a fraction of his experience at the party all those years ago.
Someone knocked against my shoulder, snapping me out of it.
We were in the most crucial point of any game. We were down by just a couple of points, and the next play could make or break us. Despite trying to shake it off, I felt Maverick’s presence everywhere I turned. I could predict his next move almost better than he could.
The timer started. Suddenly, the ball was in play. It flew from the Black Bears’s quarterback to a runner. I attempted an interception, but missed. The runner took off down the field, bracketed by Quinton and Maverick on either side. Quinton attempted a tackle, getting enough leverage on the guy to make him trip and drop the ball.
Jake snatched it before anyone realized what was happening. The next few moves seemed to stretch into hours.
The entire mass of men changed course in an impressive turnof events. Jake passed to one of our runners, and the opposing team swarmed. Blood rushed in my ears. Someone shoved into my side, trying to throw me off, but I was that much quicker. I pushed him away, returning my attention to the runner—and the opposing team shifted their focus. After a long, grueling game, they’d discovered our weak link: Maverick.
He’d held his own, but he was starting to get tired, and it showed in how he defended the runner. Given his size, his blocks should have been more confident, but each one got weaker—like he was scared to hurt the other person.
We approached the end zone, and every noise in the place got more intense. The shouting—both on and off the field. The pulsing in my ears got louder. Over twenty men converged into one mass, all surrounding that single runner with the ball. He tripped and hit the ground. The ball rolled from his hands.
Every thump of my heart coincided with another second ticking away. Players scuffled for the ball, but it did nothing more than delaying the inevitable. Finally, the Black Bears got the ball and snapped it back in the opposite direction. I ducked around to meet Maverick on the other side of the runner. If he wasn’t going to let me help improve his skills, then the least I could do was back him up on the field.
But then my head knocked into his shoulder. A flash of navy to my left revealed a determined linebacker hell bent on taking me down. He shoved again, sending me into Maverick so violently that my head spun. I slowed, ever so slightly, and that gave the guy the leverage he needed. One more forceful push, and I went down hard.
By the time I climbed to my feet, the timer went off. The Black Bears hadn’t scored a touchdown, but it didn’t matter—they didn’t need it.
We lost.
Losses were inevitable. That was just something you had to get used to in the world of pro sports—hell, inlife.But that didn’tstop them from sucking any less, especially when they were on home turf.
As we trudged back to the clubhouse, I once again found myself staring at that giant number thirteen, right below Maverick’s last name. My hands itched to reach out to him, but I refrained—barely—but his head slowly rotated over his right shoulder, those intense green eyes meeting mine, and the look there said it all. It was enough for me to keep my mouth shut for once.
I hardly even remembered what the head coach said in the locker room. My focus was on showering as fast as possible. I had to, or else I risked walking up to Maverick and making our situation even worse.
Even as I left the stadium that day, I swore I could feel his eyes on me with every step.
12
QUINTON
Understandably,we all left the field feeling quite upset that day. Losses were never fun, but they sucked even more as a home game… and the first of the season. I’d been avoiding checking my phone or turning on the TV to steer clear of it, which is why I was surprised to hear a knock at my door.
We had twenty-four hours before we flew to Reno for our next game, and I’d planned to spend a quiet evening at home. Checking my cameras, a familiar bundle of black curls hovered beneath my front door.
I rushed to answer it, the sight breaking my heart. Maverick, red-eyed and looking utterly…defeated, stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. Well, he didn’t stand so much as he slumped against the frame, as if simply standing up was too much work. He sniffled, and tug in my chest intensified. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he muttered. “But can I stay here again? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course you can.” I stepped aside to let him in and waited while he kicked his shoes off. “I was just making dinner.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can?—”
“There’s plenty for you.” With a hand on the small of his back,I led him through the house, much like I had that first day he’d come home with me. It was wild to think that it was just a couple of weeks ago. Maverick slotted into my life so perfectly that I was almost scared to admit that I’d become accustomed to the sight of him in my home. “You look like you could use some comfort food.”
Maverick slipped into a barstool, putting his chin in his hand and drawing shapes on the counter with his finger. “Preferably something deep fried and covered in cheese.”
