RYAN

He always loved to rile me up. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact he’s standing in front of me. In a matter of two minutes, we’ve slipped back into our comfortable familiarity, as if the last four years and hundreds of miles hadn’t separated us.

“Now get in and slide over because I’m riding with you.”

Maverick disappears to the back of the cab, pounds his hand on the trunk, waiting for it to pop before climbing in the backseat next to me. He tells the driver to take me wherever I need to go first. After I rattle off the address, he hits the gas like the cops are hot on our heels, and I’m forced to accept Maverick is here, with me in the back of the cab.

I’ve spent the last four years waiting for the day he came back to Everton. For the first few months after I sent him the letter, I hoped he would change his mind. I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up my board again until the night I found out he was deployed to Iraq.

When Dean called me with the news, I raced home and picked up the worn piece of wood and rode down to the river. Until that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to go down there. The place held such a special memory of our last night together. Sitting on the edge of the dock, I stared up at the starry night sky and wondered what he was doing and if he was thinking of me, too. The nights when he felt so far away, I found myself back down there just wanting to feel closer to him again.

I feel his eyes on me, burning holes into the side of my face. Being in such a small space together again, you could cut the tension in the air. It’s like my body feels the trace of his gaze running over me, and I fight off the urge to turn and ask him why it took him so long to come back.

“How’s life been treating you?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts.

Leaning against the car door, I glance over at Mav and let my eyes rake over his body. It’s hard not to stare at him. He’s changed so much since we last saw each other. He was always muscular; years of skating and working out left his body chiseled in all the right places. He’s different now though.

He doesn’t attempt to shy away from the way my eyes burn into him the same way his did mine. It’s been too long since I had him next to me, so I let my eyes drink him in.

“It’s been forever since I last saw you. I guess when I think about how long ago that was, it feels like so much has changed. I thought you were still overseas?”

It’s my attempt to change the subject, divert the attention off me. Maybe it’s a wall up or maybe I’m more curious about him, but I want to know why he’s back in Everton after so many years without a single word.

His eyebrows knit together at the mention of him being overseas. It’s almost like he’s surprised I’ve kept up with his whereabouts over the years. It’s not hard when I know he stays in touch with my brother. As much as Dean condemned us for our relationship back then, he knows how much I still care about Mav.

“Yet here I am,” he says.

It doesn’t escape me he’s steered the conversation away from my question. The statement hangs in the air before I reply, “Yet here you are.”

Peering out the window, I watch as the buildings in downtown Des Moines pass us by. The wind flows through the backseat, causing strands of my hair to whip around my face covering part of my mouth. I don’t bother moving them, turning my baseball cap around to shield my eyes.

“It’s good to see you finally got your ink.”

The mention of the tattoos covering my arms and legs bring back a swarm of memories of the first night we spent alone together. The night I opened up to him about the ink that covered my skin and, when he shared with me, all the reasons why he found himself knocking on Dean’s bedroom window at night.

The cab pulls up in front of the tattoo shop and I watch as Maverick looks past me, out the window to the building behind me. His eyes narrow for a moment before turning back to me. Something that looks like a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even attempt to acknowledge the tattoo shop but I can see the pride he wears on his face. Despite all these years, the feelings and the way things were left, he’s proud of me for how far we’ve come.

Reaching my hand over, I pull the lever to the door and move to step out.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he mutters, swinging his door open and jumping out. The driver pops the trunk, and before I know it, Maverick is quickly pulling my suitcase out and setting it on the ground between us.

There’s so much I want to ask him, to have him sit down and tell me, but things are different now. I was just a chapter in his book, one that was never meant to be re-read. It’s become very apparent over the years after he never responded to my letter.

I just never expected that it would be four years before I would see or hear from him again. Maybe I’m feeling a little sentimental after seeing him again, but I can’t help but feel like we are miles apart.

“Well, this is me,” I say, pointing to the front of Tattered, the tattoo shop I own with my buddy, Chris. “It’s good to see you, Mav. It’s even better to know you’re here, that you’re home and safe.” The thought of him being over there, fighting a war, is something that was never far from my mind.

“It’s good to see you, too, Rebel. I never thought I’d be back here, but it’s good to be home.”

I feel as if there is more to his comment he’s not telling me, but I decide not to push it. It’s not my place to go asking questions I have no business asking.

“I’ll be in town for a little bit. I’d like to get together, maybe we can grab lunch and catch up?”

“As much as I’ve waited for you to be home and to hear those words, a lot has changed. I have changed. I think it’s best if we leave the past in the past,” I reply, swallowing hard. I hate even saying those words. “Take care of yourself, Mav,” I reply, flashing him a small smile as I grab the handle of my suitcase and force my feet to move.

I hear him mutter a goodbye as I pass him, but I don’t turn around to see the look on his face. It’s time I accept his place in my life and in the past. Not because I don’t care about him, but because it’s better to leave all the things unsaid and where they are meant to be.

The door dings as I pull it open. Andi steps out of the back room with a box in her hands, peeking her eyes around the corner to see who it is.

“Hey, I was wondering when you’d be back.”

Chris rolls his chair backward from where he works when he realizes it’s me.

“About fucking time!” he shouts.

My day has been non-stop since I woke up early this morning to catch my flight home from California. I had planned on stopping by Tattered knowing I have a busy week ahead catching up on appointments I had to reschedule around my trip, on top of working at the bar this weekend with Nadia.

My thoughts are still caught up in what just happened that it takes me a minute to catch up.

Flashing Chris my middle finger, I saunter into my room on the other side of the shop, just needing a moment to collect myself. My heart feels like it’s beating again for the first time since I last saw Maverick, and it’s terrifying.