Delaney
The next day, Ryker opens the door, this time with some clothes on. It makes sense since it’s the afternoon and after classes, but in a dorm with athletes, you never know. I’m here to pump him for information, and I’m not above using food to get what I want.
“Mav isn’t here. Already left for the gym.”
I let out a sigh. “Is he at Carson’s with Leslie?”
Ryker pales—just a hair—and I know I’m on the right track. “He might be at Carson’s, but I don’t know a Leslie.”
My heart drops at his obvious lie, but I shrug, playing it cool. “I know he’s not here. He texted me this morning and said he had things to do today.” He’s been too busy for me for the past several days, and my nerves are stretched thin. It feels like whatever we had is slowly slipping away and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
He nods. “So why are you here?”
I pull a full pecan pie out of my handy little Tupperware carrier. “I made pie, and I do recall you mentioning once that pecan is your favorite. Just thought I’d drop it off.”
“Man, you’re the best.” He opens the door wider and I step inside, heading to the kitchenette. “It’s been a shit day and I really need this.”
“Oh? What’s wrong?” Normally he always wears a smile, but now that I’m noticing, there are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is everywhere, as if he’s been rubbing it.
His lips tighten. “Just girl problems.” Muffin problems, no doubt, but I hold on to that thought and wait.
“Let me cut you a piece,” I say as I pull open a drawer to find a pie cutter. Alas, these guys are primitive, so I settle for a butter knife. I slice into the flakey golden crust, tossing a look at him over my shoulder.
“Sure.” His eyes are focused on the dish, and I smile at his interest.
“By the way, this was my Nana’s recipe, and it’s been handed down in my family for generations. It won a blue ribbon at a fair in North Carolina.”
He walks in closer. “Awesome, but why are you bringing me pie? Shouldn’t it be for Mav?”
“Just thought we could chat. Want me to make us some coffee to go with this? Or some iced tea?”
“I think my mom left some Lipton packets here the last time she dropped off groceries, and there’s sugar in the pantry. I don’t have an iced tea maker though. We can use a pan?”
“Sure.” I nod and he helps make the tea, immediately turning on the stovetop. There’s a bit of pep in his step, probably excitement about the pie. He fills the pan with water and I drop in the bags as he digs out a pitcher. I mean, I don’t really want tea, but I’m nervous and need something to keep my hands busy because I feel guilty about pumping Maverick’s friend for information. I exhale. I’m desperate, and I just want Ryker to reassure me that everything’s okay.
“Let’s talk while the tea brews, yes?”
“Sure.” He shrugs.
I set the pie in the center of the table and cut it into six large slices, the sterling silver of the knife slicing into the crystallized pecans and down farther into the dark gooey confection.
“So the recipe is a big secret?”
“Nana thought it was. Sometimes I think it’s a shame not to tell people about it because I’m the only person in the world that knows it, and I don’t have any family to pass it on to.”
“You’re not missing much. Family can be a real pain in the ass. Maybe you’ll have a house full of kids someday.”
I hope so. “Or a bunch of cats.”
Silence settles between us as we wait for the tea to brew, and I notice the pensive look on Ryker’s face.
I’m trying to figure out how to lead into asking him details about Maverick when he speaks first. “You didn’t really come here just to bring me this pie, did you?”
I feel myself blush. “Correct.”
A gruff laugh comes out of him. “You came to ask me about Maverick and why he’s so…weird lately, right?” His eyes flash down to the gooey goodness that’s spreading out on his plate. “The pie is a bribe.”
He’s funny, and I smile a little even though I’m worried. “Pretty much.”
He sighs, but I don’t think he’s annoyed with me.
My stomach churns and I go all in. “The truth is…Muffin came to see me at the library last night, throwing threats around about Maverick and someone named Leslie. Is he cheating on me?”
He shakes his head. “No. God, no—Maverick wouldn’t do that. Leslie is a guy, a real piece of work.”
I sit back, my head spinning with relief. I’d been so focused on him cheating…
He rakes a hand through his hair, his lips twisting as if he’s deep in thought.
“But you’re not telling me everything,” I say. “What does Muffin claim to know about Maverick?”
He rubs a hand down his face. “This whole Muffin thing…shit, it’s my fault. Apparently one night she got my phone while I was sleeping and read a bunch of texts from Maverick. It was on the lock screen but she was still able to take pictures of messages about a casino and this Leslie person. She’s crazy. She even went up to him at Carson’s and took a picture of him with the guy.”
He says a few other things, mostly about how he’s pissed at Muffin and how he’s tried to call her but she’s not answering, but all I can focus on is the casino bit.
My heart drops. “He’s been gambling?”
He studies me and frowns, giving me a rueful look. “No, and I’ve already said too much. I only did because I know you care about him and if anyone can talk to him, it’s you. You’ll have to ask him for the rest of the story.”
I chew on my bottom lip, my head trying to piece it all together. Ryker’s right—if I want to know the truth, I’ll have to confront Maverick.
He lets out a sigh as his eyes drift back to the plate in front of him. “Are you still going to let me eat this?” The fork is already in his hand and there’s a huge clump of crust and pecan filling on the tines.
“Eat the damn pie.”
“Thank God.” He shoves the huge bite in his mouth and groans so loudly, I blush. Once he gets the first bite down, he reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t give up on him. Just talk to him.”