Merit (Treasure State Wildcats Book 4)
Merit: Chapter 21

Maverick was propped against a stack of my pillows, the sculpted plane of his chest and those droolworthy abs on display as the sheet covered his legs. His hands worked the muscle of my calf, massaging up and down, knee to ankle. “Better?”

The cramp was gone. The cramp he’d given me trying to bend me into a pretzel earlier. But I didn’t want him to stop. I craved his hands on my skin. “No.”

“Liar.” He dragged his fingernail along the sole of my foot, making me jerk and laugh.

“Hey, that tickles.” I took the pillow behind my own head and threw it at his face.

He chuckled, returning to his massage. “Heaven forbid, Stevie Adair get tickled.”

“You know I hate it.”

“I know. Remember that time you threw a massive tantrum because I tickled you on the bus?”

“That wasn’t a tantrum, Houston. That was a protest.” I pushed up on my elbows, clutching the sheet to my naked chest. “You wouldn’t stop. You made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. It’s your own fault that I didn’t sit with you on the bus for a week.”

“A week is a long time in fourth grade.”

I gave him an exaggerated pout. “Poor Maverick.”

He rolled his eyes, then pounced, abandoning the pillows in a flash as he ripped the covers from my body, covering my bare skin with his. My legs opened so he could fit himself into the cradle of my hips. And the second his tongue slid past my teeth, his cock sank into my body.

For the past two months, I’d lived in a haze of Maverick and sex. We fucked constantly, before I left for work in the morning. In the evening when I got home. At night, for hours and hours until we both crashed.

It wasn’t enough. No matter how many times we were together, I wanted more and more. It was better than I could have ever dreamed.

Maybe there was a reason I’d waited so long to have sex. Maybe I’d been waiting for Maverick this whole time.

He was insatiable. Urgent. He seemed frantic to be together as often as possible, even on lazy Sunday mornings like this. Like it was easier to have sex, to drown in each other’s bodies, than deal with reality.

I didn’t blame him.

But I was starting to worry. Every time I asked if he was okay, he’d say yes. It was sounding more and more like a lie.

Those worries crept in for a second, taking me out of the moment, dulling the lust. Until Maverick must have felt my mind wandering and reached between us, replaceing my clit.

Worries gone. “Yes.”

“Fuck, that’s good,” he hissed, driving inside, burying himself to the root. His mouth dropped to my ear before he kissed along my neck.

“Mav.” My fingers dug into his shoulders, a leg wrapping around his thigh, all while his finger and mouth and cock blanked my mind.

My orgasm came over me like a wave, not as hard and powerful as either of those he’d given me this morning, but no less satisfying. And as he took me over the edge, he came with me, pouring inside until he was spent.

We clung to each other until our bodies were limp, until the cramp in my calf was long forgotten, and my heartbeat thundered against his chest. Then he carried me to the shower, because whether we wanted to leave our bubble or not, there was a world beyond my bedroom walls.

And we were expected at Monty and Meredith’s house by noon to celebrate a Wildcats victory.

Maverick and the football team had traveled to Utah for their first game of the season yesterday. A nonconference game where we’d won, thirty-five to thirty-one. Mav had kicked the game-winning field goal.

His parents hadn’t traveled that far, for obvious reasons, but they wanted to do something to celebrate his kick. He wasn’t usually the player who kicked field goals.

“Do you think they’ll keep you as placekicker?” I asked Mav as I put on my makeup.

He stood at the second sink in the bathroom, his jaw covered in white shaving cream. “I don’t know. I expect we’ll talk about it Monday at practice.”

School hadn’t started yet, so the guys were still spending extra time at the fieldhouse practicing and having meetings.

“Would you rather stick as punter?”

“I mean, it’s familiar.” He shrugged. “But it was a rush, scoring those points yesterday.”

He’d been riding such a high after their flight home. It had been nearly two in the morning when he’d finally made it to my house and he’d still been wound up.

We’d fucked so hard I’d practically blacked out afterward.

Maverick had spent years as punter for the Wildcats, focusing on distance. But their placekicker, the player who kicked extra points and field goals, had gotten cramps during the game. It had been in the nineties, and he’d been dehydrated. So Mav had stepped in to cover, since the backup, a sophomore without much gametime experience, hadn’t traveled with the team.

Mav had been flawless on the field. If he’d had any nerves, they hadn’t shown through on the TV. I’d watched the game alone in the living room after a long Saturday at Adair, and when he’d kicked that field goal, I’d shot off the couch and screamed.

I hoped they let him stay as placekicker this year. He needed that challenge. That personal win.

He wasn’t sleeping as much as he should be. Part of that was my fault. We stayed up late to be with each other. But the other part was that he’d wake up, tossing and turning. The dark circles under his eyes had been there for weeks.

His gaze flicked to mine in the mirror. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like watching you shave.”

He turned on the water, then dragged his razor along his cheek. That razor, along with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a stick of deodorant, now lived in the top right drawer of my bathroom. His shampoo and bodywash were lined up beside mine in the shower.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” It was the answer he always gave. And each time, it sounded more and more like a lie.

“You can talk to me.”

“I do.”

No, he really didn’t. He didn’t talk to anyone. Maybe he wouldn’t talk to me. But he should talk to someone.

“My mom mentioned the other day about getting a grief counselor.”

Maverick flinched so hard he nicked his skin, red blood instantly welling on the surface.

“Shit. Sorry.” I grabbed a square of toilet paper, handing it over.

His jaw clenched as he tore off a corner, pressing it to the wound. Then he went back to shaving, like I hadn’t mentioned a thing about grief counseling. He kept his gaze locked on the mirror, not so much as blinking in my direction.

“Sorry,” I said. “It was just an idea.”

He rinsed his razor under the faucet. A coldness crept into the bathroom, chasing away the warmth from the shower.

I was two feet away, wrapped in a towel, my hair hanging damp down my shoulders, and there might as well have been a wall between us. So I bent for the bottom drawer and took out my hair dryer, going to work on my hair.

Maverick finished shaving and stalked from the bathroom, likely heading for the backpack he brought over every night with clothes.

I hadn’t offered to let him leave any in the closet. The toiletries were one thing. Clothes felt like maybe we needed to have a conversation.

About how this fake relationship of ours wasn’t fake and hadn’t been for months. About how everyone in our family was counting on us staying together for Meredith’s sake. About how Maverick and I had sex practically around the clock, but it had been nearly two months since we’d gone on a date.

And if I was actually his girlfriend, why wouldn’t he talk to me?

When I brought up his mom’s treatment, he’d wave it off and silence me with a kiss. When I asked if he was doing all right, he’d shrug and take off my shirt. When I offered to listen if he wanted to talk, he’d reach for the waistband of my pants.

Meredith’s cancer wasn’t only eating her alive.

It was killing him too.

I wanted to help. I wanted to be there to support him. Maybe what that meant right now was that I was there to take his mind off it. I was there to kiss him back. To curl close during those precious few hours of sleep he got each night. To give him my bed, a quiet space for him to breathe.

If that’s all I could do, then so be it.

With my hair dry, I went to the closet and dressed in a sage-green romper. I added a gold necklace and stepped into a pair of white tennis shoes. When I went in search of Maverick, he was on the couch, elbows to knees, as his fingers flew over his phone.

“Ready,” I said.

He stood, tucking his phone away, then with a tight smile, he rounded the coffee table and held out his hand.

“Sorry about your face.”

“That sounds like a comeback from when we were kids.”

I smiled. “Kind of does.”

He pulled me close to kiss my hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

Except I was worried.

He wasn’t the only one not sleeping all night long.

Maverick held my hand as we drove to his parents’ house. The closer we got, the tighter his grip, like he was bracing for what we’d replace.

We both visited Meredith as often as possible, but it was rarely together. I’d swing by on a lunch break from work or if I had a client in the area. I’d fix her nails and tell her about work. I was still shadowing Dad on the larger, commercial jobs, but from time to time, he’d give me a small residential project that I could manage.

The other designers were in full swing, and we all worked from sunrise to sunset, cramming in as much as possible for the short, Montana landscaping season.

There seemed to be a permanent layer of dirt in my cuticles from the hours I helped out in the nursery. Most days when I came home, I smelled like earth and wind and sweat, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

If I could just convince Dad I was capable of running Adair, it would be the perfect job. Well, that and I’d have to fire Samantha.

She hadn’t brought up her past with Maverick, but it lingered in the air whenever we were in the same room.

I made sure that was as infrequently as possible.

The driveway was full when we got to the Houstons’. Mabel’s car was parked beside Mom’s Escalade, so Maverick parked on the street, hopping out to go inside.

“Hey,” he called, taking off his shoes.

I did the same, then followed him to the guest bathroom to wash my hands.

When we made it to the living room, my parents were each in a chair. Mabel was sitting on the stone ledge of the fireplace.

And Monty was on the couch beside Meredith.

She looked so small, so pale and gaunt, that I nearly tripped over my own feet as I walked into the room.

I hadn’t stopped by since last Monday. What the hell had happened in a week that she looked so awful?

Cancer. Fucking cancer. That’s what had happened.

I crossed the room and took a seat beside Mabel.

This was the place where we stacked gifts during Christmas. I’d thought, hoped, that Meredith would make it until after the holidays. A week ago, I would have counted on it. Now?

She wasn’t going to make it, was she? The doctors hadn’t given her a timeline—or maybe they had and she just hadn’t shared it with us.

Meredith, the only aunt I’d ever really known, wasn’t going to be here for Christmas. At this point, I wasn’t sure if she’d even make it to Thanksgiving.

The lump in my throat was choking me, so I breathed through my nose, eyes aimed at the floor until I could swallow it down. God, this was hard.

“Hey, Mom.” Maverick walked over to the couch and kissed her coral headscarf. If he was surprised by her appearance, he didn’t let it show. After he squeezed her hand, he took the seat on his sister’s other side on the fireplace.

Mabel had spent years between us, the unofficial buffer. Today, I really wished the Houstons had one more chair so I could be beside Maverick.

“Where’s Bodhi?” he asked.

“Yes, Mabel. Where is my grandson?” Meredith asked. Her voice was tinny but lit with humor. “We were just asking where he is today and, so far, your sister has dodged the question. Apparently Bodhi is busy.”

“He is busy.” Mabel frowned.

“Busy taking conference calls? Busy working manual labor? Busy practicing trick shots?” Maverick poked his sister in the ribs. “What does an eight-year-old do to stay so busy?”

Mabel swatted at his hand as she gave him a glare. “He’s golfing, okay?”

“Oh.” Maverick stared down at her, eyebrows raised. “Then why the secrecy?”

“Because he’s golfing with Kai.” Her voice trailed off so drastically, it was hard to hear that last word.

“Kai?” Mom asked. “Is that what you said?”

Mabel huffed and nodded. “Yes, Kai.”

“And who exactly is Kai?” Maverick looked around the room, but we were all puzzled. Well, everyone except Meredith.

There were tears swimming in her eyes. A smile stretched across her chapped lips.

“The doctor,” Meredith whispered.

Mabel nodded, giving her mother a shrug. “He wanted to take Bodhi on an outing. Just the two of them. So they went golfing.”

“Wait. Is this Kai guy your boyfriend?” Maverick asked.

“Yeah.” Mabel’s face began to flush. “We’ve actually been dating for a few months. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in case things didn’t work out, but he’s the best guy I’ve ever known, and he adores Bodhi. I, um . . . I kind of think I love him.”

The room went quiet for a moment, then erupted with questions.

When do we get to meet him?

What kind of medicine does he practice?

How old is he?

Mabel answered them all, and it was like a dam had burst. She gushed about him, telling us about each of their dates and how he worked with kids and how he’d moved to Mission from Seattle, hoping to settle down in a place where he could grow roots.

“I’m trying not to get ahead of myself,” she said. “It’s only been a few months. But someday, maybe, I hope he’ll be another guy Bodhi can look up to.”

Bodhi’s biological father was not in the picture. Hell, his name was basically taboo under this roof. But that kid would not be lacking in positive male role models.

“Then it seems like we’ve got multiple things to celebrate today.” Dad pushed out of his chair, holding out a hand to help Mom from hers. “We’ll get started on lunch. Burgers and dogs. Great kick, Maverick.”

“Thanks, Declan.” Mav smiled.

“I’ll help.” Mabel stood, finally freeing the space between us.

The moment she was gone, Maverick took my hand, his thumb circling my knuckle.

Meredith stared at us for a long moment, then she dropped her chin, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

“Mom?”

She sniffled, waving it off. “Oh, I’m just a little more emotional than normal. Don’t think anything of it. But I could use a fresh water. And there’s a box of stuff in your old bedroom I went through this week for you to decide if you want to toss or keep. Maybe you could bring it down.”

As in, she needed a moment alone.

I laced my fingers with Maverick’s and stood, hauling him to his feet. “I’ll get the water. You get the box.”

He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Then we left Meredith and Monty alone, giving them a few moments to breathe.

I forced a smile when I got to the kitchen, filling one of Meredith’s tumblers with water as Mom, Dad and Mabel bustled around, taking out lunch fixings from the fridge and pantry.

When I decided I’d given Meredith enough time, I headed back toward the living room, about to round the corner when I overheard her talking to Monty.

“Now I can go,” she said. “I didn’t want to leave when they were alone. I’m just so tired, Monty.”

“I know, dear. I know.”

My heart broke into a thousand pieces. It hurt, more than anything had ever hurt. Almost more than I was able to bear.

But at least Maverick hadn’t heard.

I sucked in a breath, blinked away my own tears, then straightened, about to take in her water. Except a creak in the floor behind me made me turn.

Maverick stood behind me, a plastic tub with a lime-green lid clutched between his hands. The color had drained from his face. There was so much sorrow in his gaze it smashed the broken pieces of my heart to dust.

He’d heard their conversation too.

I reached for him.

Except he was already gone, striding toward the door, setting that tub in the entryway. He stepped into his shoes, and before I could stop him, he was out the door, crossing the lawn for his truck.

I chased him outside. “Maverick, wait.”

He didn’t.

Without a backward glance, he climbed in his truck and drove away.

“Shit.” I stood on the porch, staring as his taillights disappeared around a corner. Then I waited, hoping and wishing, that he just needed a few minutes alone.

But when the street stayed empty, I sighed and spun to go back inside.

I hadn’t even noticed I wasn’t alone on the porch.

“This is going to change him.” Meredith had snuck up on me, looking like she’d used every ounce of her strength to come outside.

The same worry I’d seen in my own gaze this morning filled hers.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said.

“It will get worse before it gets better. I don’t know if you two are still pretending or not on my behalf. If you are, you’re doing a hell of a job, because it seems real.”

It was real. At least, for me. That was another part of the conversation that Maverick and I should have but hadn’t yet.

“Whether this turned into something real or it’s still only for my sake, don’t give up on him, Stevie. He’s going to pull away. It’s just who he is. And I doubt he’ll be nice about it. But don’t give up on him.”

I held up my pinky. “Promise.”