Page 41 of Never Give Up

“Okay,” Paul says, his legs stretched out in the seat next to him, “you can come back to work tomorrow night.”

“Sounds good.” I say the words with a cool nonchalance, but inside relief flows.

When Paul found out about the makeshift pizza work party, he called to tell me we’d just do my review here at the house. Looking at him, I have a feeling he didn’t know for sure until just now whether or not he’d let me come back to work.

That truth stings a little, but mostly I’m filled with excitement because I need to work. It will help keep my mind off—

I look up at a small commotion, startled as Poppy comes into the backyard, followed by Maya at her side.

I almost drop my damn beer when I catch sight of her.

Maya wears an air of confidence that has to be hard-won or put on. She looks a little thinner, paler, and more exhausted than usual.

But that determination shines in her eyes, and if they’re a little rimmed with shadows, no one will blame her, least of all me.

She looks magnificent.

Then again, she always does. That dark hair, the flash of teeth beneath the soft surface of her lips, no one can take that away. Not the fucker who’d hurt her, no one.

Her gaze skitters over me as she takes in everything around us.

I have to physically restrain myself, force my feet to stay planted exactly where they are. Otherwise, I’m going to jump up and hug her, which is probably going to scare the shit out of her. Or make her punch me in the dick. One of the two.

“Maya, what took you so long?” Concern laces Paul’s voice as he cuts through the racing thoughts that are gonna send me straight to hell.

“I’m sorry, I know you said not to bring anything but I couldn’t help it. I made food.” Several whoops and groans of pleasure rise from the guys as Maya smiles. “You have to go get them out of the car though. I’m beat.”

And Maya presses the back of her hand to her forehead in an exaggerated sigh. The neon purple cast on her arm cuts me right to the center. The little tremble isn’t lost on me. The one she pretends isn’t real, but we both know it is.

But she doesn’t look at me again as at least four of the guys leap up to get the food with a cacophony of chairs tipping over and laughter that fills the air.

This is too soon for her to be cooking, for her to be running around doing for others, when she should be taking care of herself.

Panic slams inside me because I am going to have to talk to her at some point. I’m going to have to be close enough to touch her, and I can’t. Trying to fight the panic, I get up to grab another beer to give myself something to do.

As I walk away, Paul asks her if she’s okay. Her answer is quiet, and I completely miss it. When I get into the house, I splash some water on my face and try to gain some composure. It fails epically when I see how much food she brought with her. How much effort she went through to do something nice for us.

There are four pans of enchiladas and two pans of tamales spread out like it’s a feast and Maya’s the only one to feed all of us. She’s probably been in the kitchen the entire morning cooking, and now I’m pissed because she should know better.

She should be resting, not cooking, and sure as hell not in my backyard without me being by her side. Not until I get my shit together and tell her everything. The worst part is, her being here is like heaven answering a prayer. I crave the sight of her, the unique scent that only she has. Now that I’ve gotten it, I wish I hadn’t. She’s the best and most addictive drug, and I’ll never be able to get enough.

Let’s just ignore the fact that I drive by her house almost every night to make sure she’s okay.

Her tinkling laughter fills the air, filtering through the open back door, leaving me weak for her.

Hell, I’ve always been weak when it comes to her.

Tell her how you feel.

That little voice in the back of my head is back, telling me what I know I should be doing. But the logical part of my brain is there, with all the pieces that threaten to destroy me.

Maya’s so young.

So much younger than me.

But goddamn, I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life, and if I don’t do something soon, I think I’m going to lose my mind.

14

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