Chapter Thirteen
Maverick
Cocaine is less addicting. Windsor fills every waking thought, and my dreams at night? She’s fucking starring in them. The rest of my life is merely subtitles at this point. That’s not necessarily a good thing either. At least all the years of doing nothing except training, or thinking about training will probably kick in. I’m counting on autopilot coming in for the win.
“I swear she is trying to kill me,” Windsor says. She’s sitting in the middle of a pink, frilly bed. We’re at her Mom’s house in Georgia, in Win’s childhood bedroom. Kathy wanted Windsor here because husband number five—I’m not even sure if she’s said his actual name—left her…again. “He’ll be back. He’s gotta come back.” She turns to face me. Her eyes are wild. I know what she’s thinking.
“You don’t live here anymore. She’s not going to ask you stay here. Kathy knows you have a job and a life,” I say. Windsor is like a ball of fucking nerves. Her leg bounced the entire flight to Atlanta. I tried to get her to join me in the airplane bathroom, but she was too wound up to respond. That’s when I knew this wasn’t just an issue of conflicting personalities. Whatever went down between Windsor and her mother, the scars from it are deep. If it were possible, I felt an even tighter connection with her for it.
She runs her hands through her hair and collapses back onto her bed. A white teddy bear bounces off. It seems Kathy had a hard time letting go, because this bedroom looks like it hasn’t been touched since Windsor left.
“I keep telling myself that. She is a fucking mess, Maverick. She can’t take care of herself. What kind of daughter would I be if I left her here by herself?” she asks. It’s almost rhetorical. We both know what kind of person she is. She’s good.
“I could make some phone calls and see if we could get someone to come over and check on her every day,” I offer.
She shakes her head. “She’s always had a man around. That was always number one for her,” she says sadly. Fuck. Now Windsor looks miserable. I sit on the edge of her bed, feeling a little apprehensive because It’s like I’m sitting on a child’s bed and that’s just fucking weird.
I run my fingers through her hair. I’d take away whatever she’s feeling if I could. God knows I’d take it all away. Because I know what feelings like this do. She hides her face in a fuzzy, heart shaped pillow. I don’t even know what to say. Nothing can fix it. Words aren’t a magic cure for anything. Words only take the sting off the surface. Deep down, everything is still shredded and bleeding and aching.
“I have to stay here,” she says, the pillow muffling her words.
My pulse picks up and I try to calm myself. I’m not mad. I take a deep breath. The rational piece of my brain starts connecting the dots. Being separated from Windsor makes me nervous. My body has an actual physical response to the mere mention of me going and her staying. It is fucking insane.
“I know,” I say. Because I do know. It doesn’t change how I feel. If she didn’t stay, she wouldn’t be the person I fell for. She turns to look at me and a tear slips down her face. I wipe it away with my thumb. She is so God damned beautiful that I can’t stand it. Even in a child’s bed with a red face, she is the only sight I’ve ever been addicted to. I want to look at her and really see her in every possible way. When she’s sad, happy, coming, when she’s angry…I’ll take it all.
Windsor groans and flips to her back. “Tell the dolphins ‘hi’ for me,” she says, sulking with her arms folded across her chest. “That’s why I’m upset you know. I know Kathy will be okay…eventually. I’m upset that I won’t get to spend this time with you.”
I lean down and kiss her square on the mouth. I do it because I’m not sure what to say. Hopefully my mouth says everything it needs to say without actually speaking. “It’s a shame really. I was going to take you to get a dolphin tattoo on your ankle,” I offer, rubbing my lips across hers. She laughs and sniffles a little. It was the reaction I wanted. A cute grimace crosses her face.
“You never see a bumper sticker on a Bentley, Mav,” she says. “Forbes women don’t mar their bodies with art. We prefer it on the wall. It’s not the 1990’s either. A dolphin?” she laughs even louder. I smile. “You get a dolphin tat,” she counters. I kiss a tear that is about to roll down her cheek.
“You think I should? Maybe one diving over my dick?” I reply.
Her laughter fades a little. “If anyone is going to be diving by your dick, it’s going to be me,” she whispers.
It is so hot I actually consider a dick diving dolphin. God, Stone would love that. That’s a vagina dick image he’d never be able to burn out of his mind. I chuckle.
She stands from the bed, but not before running her small hand over my jeans-covered cock. Tease. Cock fucking tease. “I have to go talk to her,” she says. “I’m sure that’s what is expected from me. Dance monkey, dance!” she yells.
I grab her waist from behind and pull her ass to my dick. “While you’re obeying commands lets do bad things in that bed. I want to defile it tonight,” I say, already picturing her naked in it. The weirdness of the pink, child’s bed has completely disappeared the second I imagine her naked. Dick twitch. Schwing! “I need to take a run. I’ll pick up some groceries. Seems she doesn’t get out of bed all that much. I’ll make dinner tonight?” I ask. She bends down to pick something off the floor and the angle is so perfect I can almost feel her pussy through both my jeans and hers. “Or we can defile it now,” I grind out.
Windsor sighs. “What exactly is your definition of defiling? It can’t be all that bad if we’re still taking things slow. Or are you finally going to show me a new talent?” she replies.
Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off. She told me she was glad we were waiting to have sex, but I’m not sure if that’s because she knows I have some weird fucking hang up about it, or if she really doesn’t want to either.
“You’re ready?” I ask. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She turns around to face me. “I’ve been ready, Mav,” she says, using my hard-on inducing nickname. She pauses, bites her lip, and then continues, “In fact I’m ready right now. I’m ready any second you’re within eyesight or ear shot. Everything about you makes me want you. I’ve wanted your dick inside me even when I only wanted a one night stand with you.”
What. The. Fuck. This particular ramble enlightened me, that’s for damn sure. I narrow my eyes. “When did you want a one night stand?” I ask. That would have made things even more fucked up than they are now. I’m also so turned on that I can’t see straight. A one night stand is what most of my bags want. The fact never bothered me in the least, or had any affect on me really. Now the same words out of Windsor’s mouth? She might as well say, “Come in me, big daddy.” That’s what it does to me.
She folds her arms across her chest and smiles a knowing smile. “Don’t play coy. You know the first night I met you the effect you had on me. I would have had sex with you on the second date. But you went and propositioned me with money instead of a hotel date,” she explains. “I was already wet before you walked into my office. Because I was thinking of you all weekend long,” she admits. My stomach flips a little. “The question of the month is are you ready?”
I swallow loudly. Am I? She is so honest with me about everything. Should I just tell her how I feel about her? Do I tell her that I think sex will change everything? That I’m so fucking mad about her that the second I stick my dick inside her, I might proposition her with marriage? That would scare her off for sure. Because Johnny Fucking Nash screwed her over. I sigh. I can’t give in to her. Not yet. Not until I know that she’s ready to accept all of me. All of me forever. That’s a huge thing to ask. I settle for a half-truth. “I want to fuck you so badly that it hurts me.” I run my hand down the front of my jeans, over my engorged, miserable cock. “Everything in my life is fast and fleeting. Is this so wrong?” I kiss her, rubbing all the way down the sides of her body. She lets out a small moan. “I want to do one thing slow. Not crazy…just good and right.” If she only knew how much I just admitted.
Windsor slides her hands under my shirt and up my chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” she professes. The way her blue eyes are locked on mine scares me and excites me. I think she’s going to say it. She’s going to tell me how she feels about me. If she admits as much that will be it. Game over. I’m hers. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Just a tiny, little something to let me know she feels just as fucking crazy as I do. She closes her eyes and looks down. I feel sick.
She pulls away from me. The moment turns to complete piss. I’m a pussy. She’s been burned. This is fucking dismal. I smile to try to hide the disappointment. I lift her chin. “I’m yours. You are mine. Okay?” I tell her. This much we can both agree on. It’s safe territory.
“Mine,” she repeats. I nod. She’s way more than mine. She’s everything. Fuck.
She leaves me in her room to go visit Kathy in a room down the hall. I told her I was going for a run, but I still can’t shake the fucking moment. She can’t say it. I wonder if she’ll ever be able to tell me how she feels. I will wait forever for her to get on the same page as me, but what if she never gets there? What if I’m this dumb fucking idiot trying to get the girl who will never want anything more than sex from me? Most guys would be thrilled at this prospect. Hell, a couple months ago that’d thrill me, too. Now it just makes my stomach hurt. I walk out of the bedroom, leaving the J.T.T posters to have a staring contest with her cheerleading trophies. I hear Windsor’s voice and I can’t help it…I walk toward it, toward the cracked bedroom door, and I listen.
Her voice is muffled a little bit and I can tell she’s crying again. I have to remind myself that I’m fucking eavesdropping, so I can’t go in and hold her. The urge is so powerful that it surprises me.
“Why, Kathy? Why?” Windsor begs. Well, when in Rome…right? I walk a little closer and stand just to the right of the door, completely out of sight. Stealth is one of my favorite tricks. I can disappear into night like a ghost, but the thing driving me now is the ability to discover something about Windsor that I didn’t know before. Something she isn’t comfortable telling me. It’s like a fucking unicorn or something. You wouldn’t look away if one crossed your path. You never know when or if you’ll see it again. Fuck. Even my rationalizing is becoming insane.
“You would never understand, Windsor. I did what was best for you. After your father died everything was…different,” Kathy says, sighing.
“What you really mean to say is that you were different.” Windsor sobs a little, but she seems to be pulling it together. Less tears, more anger. “You and dad broke up when I was small. Why would him dying while you were married to number three affect you? It doesn’t make any sense. You were remarried. You didn’t give a shit about him anymore!” Windsor cries.
“Bite your tongue,” Kathy says. Windsor scoffs. “The numbers you give them only show your bitterness. It’s no wonder Johnny cheated on you.” I’ve never hit a woman, but I have the urge to fucking bitch slap Windsor’s mother so hard that she ends up in a different country.
“Johnny cheated on me because he is an asshole, Mo…Kathy. I didn’t do anything wrong. If you don’t agree with me, maybe you can talk to my psychiatrist who says the same thing. Nash is a self-centered prick who doesn’t deserve someone like me,” Windsor says. My chest swells with pride. Pain changes people. Some people don’t rise above it. She has.
“If that’s what you have to tell yourself,” Kathy replies.
“Why did you want me to come here? You wanted me here and all you do is say nasty things to me. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve moved on. Nash is fucking history. I’m with Maverick. And he is one hundred times the man Nash is.” There is a long, silent pause. My pulse pounds in my ears at her admission. She speaks again. “I take it back. Maverick is one million times the man Nash can ever hope to be. He would never do what Johnny did to me,” Windsor says, lowering her voice. I think she knows I’m still in the house. She has no clue I’m listening, though. Kathy makes some noise, and I can just see her sarcastic expression. Windsor doesn’t bring up my job, or tell her mother what I do. She only speaks of my character. It hits me hard. She’s defending me as a man. Not a glorified SEAL.
“Don’t fool yourself, honey. You will never be able to keep a man like that. You’re merely a plaything—a flavor of the week. Maybe if you had some of my wiles you’d be able to lock him up,” her mother says. A small sob, one that I recognize, hits me directly in the heart. Kathy clears her throat and says, “Let’s be honest, though. You’re weak. You’ll never fight for what you want. He’ll crush you just like Johnny did…maybe even worse.”
“I hate you,” Windsor cries. She doesn’t try to defend me anymore. Windsor thinks her crazy mother is right. I feel like killing something. Shooting something. Doing something reckless. I hear a glass with ice rattle. “Are you seriously drinking bourbon right now?” Windsor sounds completely shocked.
“You’ve upset me. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere. Always remember that,” Kathy spits out.
“It’s also always 9 a.m. somewhere,” Windsor replies. I’m starting to feel guilty for invading her privacy like this, but there is no way I can turn away at this point. I know what I need to reassure her of. All of the complete bullshit Kathy spews can help me convince Windsor of my feelings. Her fears are supremely unfounded. I vow right now to make her mother know this too. Whatever it takes. Whatever it fucking takes.
I hear a footstep and get ready to bolt. Kathy speaks. “Stop, Windsor. Just listen for a second please.” This bitch has the nerve of steel.
“What, Kathy?” Windsor returns. Ice rattles. She takes a large gulp of the liquor. I almost feel the burn in my own throat just hearing it.
“I’m going to try to explain something to you.” More ice rattling, a bottle glugging out more truth juice, then a sigh. I want to protect Windsor from this. From the type of person this is, because I know what a person like this is capable of. Windsor sighs. It’s long and heavy and full of emotion.
“When you can’t have the person you want the most, you start to find pieces of that person in other people. That person, the one you’re in love with, is like your favorite song,” Kathy says. She takes another sip and then continues on. “You try to find sections or pieces of your favorite melody in others. Some will have the same chorus line, others will seem so similar you might be able to forget it’s not your favorite song, just a welcome imposter. You take the new songs and you sink down into them. They wrap around you and take away everything else, changing you to accommodate. You end up changing so much that the one person you wanted so badly wouldn’t recognize you at all—inside or outside. Then nothing matters. You give up. You’re left with snippets of mismatched melodies and emptiness. I do what I do to get by. I do what I do to forget. Because Windsor? Remembering is far worse than forgetting,” Kathy explains. Windsor clears her throat.
“Your father was my favorite song. After he died all of the possibilities died with him,” she tells Windsor. “This,” I hear her ice rattle. “All of this is just imposter. This is what you will have,” Kathy says.
“I will never be like you,” Windsor bites back. Her voice holds more anger than I’ve ever heard. I want to see her face. I want to know what this looks like for myself. “If it’s the very last thing I do, I will make sure that my life never turns out like yours,” she says.
“Then my goal in life will be reached. Be strong enough to take what you want,” Kathy says. “Don’t be a weak girl. Be a noble woman.” I can’t listen to this fucking shit anymore. I wish I never came here. Never hearing those horrible words would be preferable to knowing exactly who…or what Windsor calls family. I sneak away from the door just as quietly. I dress quickly in my running gear and walk downstairs. Guilt washes over me for leaving Windsor with the damned monster upstairs for any amount of time. Her good is so good, that she would choose to stay here and help the woman who never gave her anything except heartache and bad advice. It disgusts me almost as much as the bad guys I kill. A rat in the house is far worse than a rat in the attic.
I want to do anything I can to reassure her that I won’t burn her the way Nashhole did, but I can’t. I started dating Windsor with the intentions of breaking her fucking heart. I knew I would and it didn’t matter—at the time, of course. It still doesn’t make me any better than him. That doesn’t make me any better than the person Kathy thinks I am. It makes me think of my own family, something I try to do as little as possible. We’re not so different, Windsor and I.
My precise control slips and I’m flooded with the insecurities I never let anyone see. Maybe I am the fuck-up everyone thinks I am. I try so hard to cover up who I am with what I do, that I get lost inside. Pushing my jog into a fast run, I let everything in. All of it. It doesn’t break me like it used too, but it still fucking hurts. It always hurts.