“You ever need to talk, I’m here.”
I unlock my door and then slip behind the wheel. “I appreciate you, Marcus.”
He tips his head my way and then moves to the curb, giving me room to back out.
I’m usually anxious to get home, to see Maverick, but tonight I take the scenic route. My brain’s a mess, and my heart’s even worse. The walls I’ve spent years building feel like they’re about to come crashing down.
By the time I make it to the house, my exhaustion is bone deep. All I want is to shower off, crawl in bed, and snuggle my little man until the sun rises.
I go into full-on stealth mode as I enter the house, babying the door closed and locking it before tiptoeing down the hall. I swear, I don’t even breathe until I’m safely ensconced in my bedroom.
For once, things seem to be going right—until I look at my bed and see Orion and Maverick fast asleep.
All the little, mangled, pulpy pieces of my heart fuse themselves back together and then shatter all over again at the sight of my son curled around a sleeping Orion.
The two of them look so content, so peaceful, that it actually pains me to look at them.
But at the same time, I can’t look away.
Does Maverick look that carefree when he sleeps next to me?
I force myself to look away and shuffle over to the closet. I grab a set of pajamas and then head into the bathroom to shower.
My mind reels as I scrub my skin clean, rinsing the night’s glitter and melancholy down the drain. I stand under the steaming spray until it runs cold, and then I stand here five minutes longer, praying the icy water somehow purges the want from my body.
Or at the very least, that it gives me some clarity. Because I’m half-tempted to crawl into bed with the two of them, but come morning light, I know I’d be mortified. And the last thing I need is more regrets.
When I can’t take it another second, I cut the water and wrap myself in a towel. My skin feels like gooseflesh, and my teeth chatter as I dry off. But it seems like the ice bath did the trick, because once I slip into my clothes, I hang my towel, press a kiss to Maverick’s forehead, and curl up in the chair in the corner of the room.
I keep my heavy eyes trained on Maverick, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, until finally, I lose the battle and sleep claims me.
Blinking my eyes open, I stretch my arms over my head and then sit up, the covers pooling around my waist.
I yawn and blink again, trying to clear the fog.
Something woke me up—but I’m not sure what.
It wasn’t my alarm and it wasn’t Maverick, who’s curled in a little ball beside me, sleeping soundly.
I reach for my phone, but it’s not on my nightstand where I usually leave it.
The chair—it’s in the chair, because that’s where I fell asleep, because Orion was in my bed.
Orion. Cartwright. Was. In. My. Bed.
Where is he now? When did he wake up? Did he move me? Questions race through my mind as I crawl out from beneath the covers to retrieve my phone.
It’s early. Not even six.
I collapse back against my pillow and suck in a ragged breath—the sheets smell like him. Spicy and citrusy with a hint of musk.
My God, I groan and force myself out of the bed.
His scent might as well be my own personal aphrodisiac.
It clings to my pajamas, and since I’m a glutton for punishment, I don’t change. I like smelling like him; it makes me feel like we’re closer.
This time, I don’t sneak or creep. I march straight toward the kitchen, because if I’m going to make it through the day, I’m going to need coffee and lots of it.
While it brews, I decide to get a jumpstart on breakfast and grab the waffle iron—a luxury Mav and I never had until moving in here—and two cans of cinnamon rolls from the fridge.
I saw this recipe on Pinterest and have been dying to try it. Since I’m too wired to fall back asleep, I figure there’s no time like the present. Plus, Mav will love them.
I’m six rolls deep when footsteps sound down the hall. “Mama!” Maverick cries when he sees me. “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you, too.” I bend at the waist and smother his face with kisses. “So much.”
He shrieks with laughter and wiggles out of my hold. “I had the bestest night ever!”
That makes one of us, I think sourly, before pasting on a smile. “Oh, yeah? Tell me all about it.”
“Stella made a’sketti for dinner, and then we did my sight words—that part was boring—and then O came home and played hide and seek with us. And then, guess what we did, Mama? Guess!”