––––––––

Over the past four years, Jenny had had cause to be in the neighborhood of the Bulls’ clubhouse a few times, and she’d driven by the corner with Delaney’s Sinclair once or twice. She’d always felt a shiver of...not fear, exactly, and not guilt, either, but a tweaking sense that she was behind enemy lines.

The clubhouse had never been her favorite place, even while she’d been with Maverick. Everybody had been nice enough, for the most part. She’d been his old lady, and she’d been treated with respect. There were a couple of Bulls she wasn’t wild about, but she’d gotten along okay with them all and really liked a few. But there weren’t a lot of women around that she could relate to. Mo, Joanna, and Maddie all had their own deals, real careers, and they were a lot older, anyway, so they’d treated her like a kid.

And then there were the sweetbutts. A whole bunch of women hanging around to serve, and to service, the Bulls, and dressed the part. Jenny knew she was okay-looking, maybe even cute, but she always felt schlubby around women dressed to maximize their physical attributes. Just handing Maverick a drink, they performed the act like they were offering him themselves as a bonus, even when Jenny stood right beside him. She hated it.

It was just a scummy, dark, stinky place full of discomfort and stress, and she’d been happier to be at home alone with Maverick—and he’d seemed happy with that as well.

When she parked on the Sinclair lot, she was facing the clubhouse, and for a minute or so, she stared out the windshield, focused on the Brazen Bulls MC sign, and felt all that old discomfort and stress bubble up and blend with all the new discomfort and stress. She really hoped she didn’t hurl all over the floor when she went into the station. It was a possibility, though. Maybe a probability.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Almost two weeks had passed since Maverick’s explosion at her back door, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him. That was a good thing. He was leaving her alone, like she wanted. She should let that stand and get on with life.

But she couldn’t. She jumped like a frog on a hotplate every time the phone rang, or the doorbell rang, or the door at the bar opened. Every time, it might be Maverick—or worse, another Bull, maybe Rad or Eight Ball or Ox—coming to demand Kelsey. There was no way he would just fade away. She knew that for a certainty. And when he came, he would do all he could to force her to his will. After that scene at her back door, she no longer believed that there was a line he wouldn’t cross to get what he wanted.

She no longer trusted him not to hurt her.

Which was why this was such a horrible idea, coming alone to the lion’s den. And also why she absolutely had to. There was no one in her life she could have asked to join her, and she had to face him and know what was in store.

So she pulled her shit together and got out of her car.

As she walked toward the station, a car pulled from the full-service pumps, and she heard her name. Without breaking her stride, she turned and saw Gunner trotting up to her.

“Hey, Jen. What’s going on?”

“Looking for Maverick.” She didn’t stop, and he grabbed her arm. He didn’t grab hard, but she jerked away with a gasp nonetheless, and finally stopped. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, just—this is a bad place to get him fired up, Jen.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Fuck! No. It’s just...it’s not cool to come up on him unannounced like this.”

She laughed, because that was fucking funny. All Maverick had done was pop up unannounced—at her bar, her home, Kelsey’s school.

“Fuck you, Gun.” She started for the station again, and pulled up short after one step. She didn’t have to go in. Bulls were coming toward her—through the main door and from the bays, like an advancing front.

That urge to puke clamored in her belly and began to swell.

Maverick came from the far bay, where they did auto body work. Even with one, two, three, four, five other Bulls, in addition to Gunner, arrayed before her, scowling, even sick with dread, Jenny had a fluttery moment as Maverick came toward her. He looked so good in that uniform; she’d forgotten how good. Just a service station uniform, a couple of shades of bland green, dark pants and lighter shirt, but he made it as sexy as a GQ cover.

He always tucked his shirt into his pants for work, showing slim hips and firm belly. He left three buttons undone so his snug white beater showed, with a hint of the curve of his pecs. The contours of his biceps swelled from the short sleeves of the shirt, which he’d cuffed so they cut across the midpoint of his upper arm. Still the most gorgeous man she’d ever known.

When she’d seen him at the bar, she’d noticed that his hair was nearly shorn, barely longer than the stubble on his face. The past two weeks had put actual hair on his head. Still shorter than he’d worn it before, but enough that the arc of his skull was softer. His stubble was the same, however. During their time as a couple, he’d cycled from clean-shaven to stubble to full beard and back a few times. She liked stubble best—like it was now.

He wiped his hands on a red shop towel and shoved it into his back pocket. “Is Kelsey okay?”

That was the first question a good father would ask in this situation—thinking of his little girl before anything else. God, what would Kelsey’s life had been like if she’d been born with a mom and a dad who loved each other and lived together and made a family for her?

It was a stupid thing to wonder, because the reality was nothing like that, and the past was unchangeable.

“She’s fine. I wanted...I want to talk.” She glanced at the line of Bulls. Gunner had backed off and was watching like the others, but without the same dark distrust in his eyes. “Is there a place we can go to be private?”

“You’re not afraid to be alone with me?”

She was, a little. But face to face with him now, remembering her love for him, and surrounded by angry Bulls, he was the safest person around. “Should I be?”

“No. You’re always safe with me.”

“Then can we talk?”

“Yeah.” He cast his eyes around like he was looking for somewhere to go. “The clubhouse is the best place I can think of. It’s empty, as far as I know. You okay with that?”

He knew she didn’t like it there. But there weren’t many options—something she hadn’t considered when she’d dropped Kelsey off at school and decided to do this.

“That’s fine. That’ll work.”

“Guys, I’m taking a break.”

“Mav...” Gunner began.

“It’s cool, brother. It’s all good.” He held out his hand to Jenny.

She almost took it. She wanted to take it. But she locked her arms at her sides and began to walk to the clubhouse.

Maverick sighed heavily and followed.

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

The clubhouse was empty, not even a loitering sweetbutt or a prospect doing chores. Jenny looked around, surprised. “They fixed it up.”

“Yeah. Mo’s been on a tear for a few years, going through room by room, I guess.”

It was...nice. Homey and warm. A big improvement over the flophouse it had been. “It looks good. She did a good job.”

“From what I hear, the old ladies did the shopping and the guys did the work. But yeah, I guess it’s okay.”

He reached for her again and stopped. Instead he waved toward the bar and headed behind it himself. “You want a drink?”

“It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning, Mav.”

Returning the bottle of Jack he’d just picked up from the back of the bar, he turned to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you. Just talk.”

He picked up the Jack again. “Well, then, I need a real drink.” He poured his drink, then stayed behind the bar. Jenny got the feeling he kept it between them on purpose. “What do you want to talk about?”

She wished she’d taken him up on the offer of whiskey after all. With only her will to rely on for strength, she took a breath and said, “I’m ready to tell Kelsey about you.”

That was the conclusion she’d come to, the night before, when, yet again, she’d nearly leapt from her skin at the ringing phone. She couldn’t sit back and wait for the Bulls to force her hand, and she knew they would. At some point, they would come, and they would stomp all over her. If she wanted to control the situation, then she needed to fucking control it.

She hadn’t decided to just show up here until this morning, when she’d pissed herself off second-guessing the decision.

Maverick had been taking a drink. Now he stopped and stared at her over the glass. His eyes stayed on her as he slowly set the glass on the bar. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m not...I’m not ready to just hand her over to you for an overnight or anything like that, but I’m ready to tell her and—if she wants it—I’m ready to let you meet her.”

“Yeah? Jen, Jesus. Thank you.” He reached across the bar and wrapped his hand around hers. The heat of him pulsed through her arm at once. “Thank you.”

She drew her hand away. “I’m not ready to just hand her over. She stays with me, but you can see her while I’m there. Not on your own—at least not until I know she’s comfortable with that, and I’m comfortable with it, too.”

He stared at the top of the bar. Jenny studied his face, learning all his new scars.

“What did you tell her about the other night?”

“She thinks it was an angry man who was mad at somebody else and came to the wrong house. She doesn’t know it was her father. She never saw you, and the cops didn’t talk to her.”

“Thank you. And thank you for dropping it with the cops.”

Jenny nodded. She began to feel a new layer of watchfulness. Maverick wasn’t saying much. He hadn’t argued at all about not spending time with Kelsey on his own. He hadn’t even pushed to define the parameters of the situation. All he’d said was ‘thank you.’

There was another shoe hovering around somewhere, waiting to drop, and if she wasn’t careful, it would smack her in the head.

“I still need to talk to her, but after I do, I was thinking we could meet somewhere—like a park or something, somewhere with a playground—and you could meet her there.”

He stared at her—not aggressively, but like he was trying to work out how to behave. Jenny grasped something important: he was trying. He might fail, and the shoe might still whack her, but he was quiet because he was trying to listen to her.

“I’m okay with that. But can I make a different suggestion? I guess it’s more of a request.”

Waiting for the shoe, she nodded.

“I got a place. Pretty nice one. It’s a house, in Ranch Acres. I’m fixing it up.” He smiled. “How’d you feel about bringing her there? You could take a look, tell me how I’m doing, if I’m making a place she’d like.”

“You bought a house?” They’d been looking for one together when everything had gone to hell.

“It’s a rent-to-own deal, but yeah. Got a fireplace.”

Remembering that flimsy thing in their apartment and how much he’d liked it, Jenny smiled—and then wanted to cry. She dropped her head so he wouldn’t see her struggle for composure.

“If that’s too much, okay. The park is fine.”

God, he really was trying. Jenny wanted nothing more just then than to hug him. She cleared her throat and made herself look calm. “No, I think that’s a good idea. It would help me to know what your house is like, and Kelse would like that, too, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll do that.”

The smile that broke across his face was wide and bright, full of relief—and of happiness—and Jenny saw the man she’d loved.

The man she still loved.

She had to get out of here. “Okay. I’ll talk to her tonight, and I’ll call you to set something up about coming over. I’ll be in touch.”

As she stood up and started for the door, Maverick came swiftly around the bar and stepped in front of her. Jenny flinched, and he held out his hands like a plea.

“Wait. Thank you, Jen. I mean it. I’ve been losing my mind, and you just gave it back to me. So thank you. Can I—I want to hold you.”

“Mav...” If he touched her, she’d melt.

“Please, Jen. If I blew it with you, I get it. That’s not what I mean here. I just...” Words seemed to fail him. “Please.”

She could see him try, and she loved him all the more for it, despite the mess between them. She nodded, and his arms came around her, and she melted. It felt so good, so perfectly right.

After only a second or two, she felt the shift in his body that signaled his intent to pull away, but she couldn’t let him go. He relaxed again, resting his head against hers, and they stood together, entwined and silent, while Jenny wished everything between them away.

“Jen.” His voice rumbled at her ear, and he turned his head so that she felt his lips on her cheek. If they stayed like this much longer, he was going to kiss her, and she was going to welcome it.

She leaned reluctantly back, and he released his hold. For a heartbeat, as they moved apart, their lips nearly touched.

“I’ll call you. Soon,” she said and stepped out of the range of their embrace.

“Okay. Thank you.”

As she got to the door, he called, “Jen!” and she turned around.

“What’s her favorite color?”

She smiled. “Green.”

“Green? Not pink?”

“She likes pink, too, and yellow, but green’s her favorite. Mint green, not dark. She says it makes her belly happy. Mint chocolate chip is her favorite ice cream.”

He grinned and gave her a nod, and Jenny left the clubhouse feeling warm and happy and sad and anxious—deeply confused and more hopeful than she’d have thought. Too hopeful.

He was really trying.

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~oOo~

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That evening, while Darnell did his checks on her father’s equipment, changed his bedding, and prepared his bath, Jenny sat at the kitchen table with Kelsey and her father, and they ate supper together.

Her father couldn’t chew well, so he ate only soft foods, like grits and oatmeal, mashed potatoes, and pureed fruits and vegetables. His fine motor skills were almost nonexistent, and his gross motor skills were erratic at best, so he had to be fed. He could swallow what was spooned into his mouth, and he could use a straw. He got most of his actual nutrition from protein drinks. But at supper, on those evenings she was home at suppertime, she always tried to give Kelsey the closest thing to a family meal she could have.

For Kelsey and herself, she’d made beef and noodles—a variation on a stroganoff recipe Mrs. Turner had given her, without the ingredients her picky little girl wouldn’t touch. This was basically just chopped sirloin and egg noodles in a cream sauce, without mushrooms or onions or garlic. Pretty bland. Jenny sprinkled a ton of pepper and garlic salt over her own serving. But Kelsey always gobbled it up and asked for seconds, which was a minor miracle and not to be dismissed.

She set up Kelsey with her Beauty and the Beast dish set, pouring milk into her mug. She fixed her own plate and set it at her place, then hooked the adult-sized bib around her father’s neck. He watched her, his eyes wide and mobile. His muscle tone as it was, he had to actively keep his mouth closed, and he rarely did, so it sagged open most of the time. He didn’t drool much, because his meds tended to dehydrate him a little, but he always looked—and probably was—profoundly confused.

“Jen,” he said.

“I know, Dad. I’ve got cheese grits for you tonight. That sounds good, right? And Granny Smith applesauce.”

“Jen.”

She sat down and scooted her chair close to her father’s wheelchair. When she held up a spoon of grits, he opened his mouth and closed it over the spoon. Just like she’d done for Kelsey when she was a baby, she used the empty spoon to scrape the residue from his lips.

“Hey, Kelse,” she said as she spooned up more grits. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“Did I do bad?”

Jenny turned to her daughter, leaving the spoon hovering, mid trip. “No, pixie. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Is it about my birthday? ‘Cuz I want to go to the zoom and I want Maisie to come, too. And I want ice cream cake and presents and a balloon.”

“It’s not about your birthday, but that’s the plan. We’re going to the zoo, and we’ll have cake and presents and a balloon after.”

Maisie was the Turners’ granddaughter and Kelsey’s only real friend. Jenny hadn’t yet figured out why she had trouble making friends. She wasn’t shy, she wasn’t bossy, she wasn’t mean. She could be a little sassy, but that didn’t seem to bother kids. She got along with other kids fine and would talk to any who came up to her. But even when Jenny tried to rig the situation, to start kids at the playground playing a game or something, Kelsey would separate out pretty quickly and play by herself.

Maisie was the exception. She was a few months older, and Mrs. Turner was her full-time babysitter, so she and Kelsey had grown up together.

“Jen!” her father yelled, and Jenny flinched. He sounded like his old self when he yelled her name, although his old self would have yelled her full name if he were angry. She fed him his spoon of grits and got back to thinking about this talk she needed to have.

How to tell her almost-four-year-old about her father? She’d been tearing up her head all day trying to practice and, as usual, her brain refused to do the heavy lifting. Whenever a high-stress problem arose, her mind crossed its arms and turned away with a huff, and she was left flailing. Usually, she ended up squeezing her eyes shut and just jumping in, which she did now.

“It’s about your daddy.”

“I don’t have a daddy. Not all families have daddies. My family has a mommy and a granddaddy.”

Her own words coming back to punch her in the face. “That’s true. If you could have a daddy, would you want one?”

Kelsey set her fork down and looked up at the ceiling. She pinched her little chin in her hand like she was pulling a beard, and Jenny smiled. She’s seen that on television, a character taking that pose to think, and since then, when she had a serious thought to think, she did the same.

“Would he be a daddy like Maisie’s?”

The Turners were African American, as was their son-in-law. Jenny didn’t know if that was what Kelsey meant. It wasn’t easy to know the mind of a preschooler. “What do you mean?”

“He brings the yard eater over to eat our yard after it eats Mr. and Mrs. Turner’s yard, and he takes Maisie to the swings and he sits in back with Mr. Turner and makes hamburgers and has beer. He puts the sprinkler out and we can play in it.”

Jenny laughed. “Yeah, I think he might be like that.”

“Did you meet him?”

“Yeah, pixie. I know him. We loved each other when we made you.”

Kelsey frowned. “But then he went away when I came.”

She’d never said any such thing. She’d never said anything about Maverick except that not all families had daddies. Kelsey had made this leap on her own, and it hurt Jenny’s heart. “He didn’t want to go away, Kelsey. He was really, really sad when he had to. But now he’s back, and he wants to know if you would like to know him.”

“NO!” Jenny’s father shouted forcefully and swung his arm, knocking the spoon to the floor. “NO!”

He stared at Jenny, his eyes steady and fierce, and she knew he understood that they were talking about Maverick being back.

She stared right back and put as much meaning as she could into her eyes. “Calm down, Dad.”

“Granddaddy, it’s okay,” Kelsey said. “I don’t like grits, either.”

After watching her father to be sure the outburst was done, Jenny picked up the spoon and went to wash it in the sink. “What do you think, Kelsey? If you don’t want to meet him, that’s okay.”

Again, she pulled on her chin and looked up at the ceiling. After she’d had her thought, she asked, “Is he nice?”

“I think so, yes. I think he’ll be very nice to you.”

“Is he nice to you? I don’t want a daddy who isn’t nice to my mommy.”

Jenny went and crouched beside her daughter’s chair. “You are a wonderful little person, Kelsey Marie. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mommy. That’s three.”

“Three, uh-huh. And yes, your daddy is nice to me.”

“Will he come live with us? Maisie’s daddy lives with her and her mommy, and the baby in her mommy’s belly, too.” A new thought happened. “Oh! Will you have a baby in your belly, too? If you do, I want a boy baby.”

“Slow down, pixie.” That was all much more complicated and fraught than Jenny could sort out, and it made her woozy to try. “You haven’t even met him yet. Let’s start there. Would you like to meet him?”

“Okay, if he’s nice. I’m done with my noodles, and I ate three green beans. Can I have a cookie?”

With a relieved laugh, Jenny wrapped her little girl up in a hug. “Yes. Clear your place, and you can have one cookie.” She helped her out of her booster seat.

As Kelsey set her dishes at the sink and picked out a gingersnap from the cookie jar, Jenny sat back at the table.

Her father stared at her with that steady, perceptive look. His breath came loudly and quickly, like a violent pant, and his face was flushed.

She hadn’t seen him truly angry in four years.

She wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

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~oOo~

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It was a nice house.

A sprawling brick ranch in the middle of a huge yard full of mature trees. His bike was parked on the driveway, next to a new, or new-ish, black Jeep Cherokee. Jenny considered that SUV and wondered if Maverick had other company. That would suck, if he did.

Kelsey tugged on her hand as Jenny led her to the front walk. “Is this his house?”

“I think so, yeah. Do you like it?”

“It’s like a castle.”

It wasn’t—it was just a nice, middle-class brick ranch house in a neighborhood full of nice, middle-class brick ranch houses, but compared to the rundown bungalow they lived in, maybe it was a bit palatial.

Just then, the front door opened, and Maverick stepped out. He wore jeans and a plain white t-shirt, in his usual snug fit. He grinned at them.

Kelsey tugged on her hand again, and Jenny leaned down. “What is it, pix?”

“Mommy, that’s the sad man from school. Miss Betsy said I couldn’t talk to him.”

Crouching to her daughter’s level, Jenny turned her so that they were face to face. “He was a stranger that day. Today, you’re going to meet him. What’s the rule about meeting new people?”

“Be with a grownup I trust.”

“Do you trust me?”

She laughed. “That’s silly. You’re my mommy!”

Jenny laughed a little, too. “So do you?”

Still giggling, Kelsey nodded. “Yeah, silly. I trust you to the moon and back!”

“Okay. Then it’s time to meet your daddy.” Standing up, Jenny took her daughter’s hand again.

Maverick had stayed on the slab porch when they’d paused for their little talk, but as they began to approach him again, he stepped off.

“Hi.” He smiled at Kelsey and crouched to her level. “Hi, Kelsey.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

Jenny’s breath caught—she didn’t know why she was surprised; for the past twenty hours or so, she’d been calling Maverick Kelsey’s daddy, so why wouldn’t she greet him that way? But to hear her say that, with such ease—God.

Maverick took the greeting liked she’d stabbed him with it. All over his face, Jenny could see the raw pain and the struggle for control over his emotions.

Kelsey saw it, too, but she couldn’t understand the reason. “You have sad eyes. Like at school. Are you sad to meet me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he said, trying to smile. “Not at all. I’m happier to meet you than anything. I just—can I give you a hug?”

Kelsey nodded. “I like hugs.” She lifted her arms and went right to him. Maverick pulled her tightly to his chest and tucked her head against his.

Jenny saw tears make wet trails down his cheeks, one from each eye. She hated herself for cutting him out. Whatever her reasons, right now, standing right here, she knew she’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry, Mav,” she whispered.

He heard her and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s okay now.”

When Kelsey began to squirm, Maverick let her go. “You want to come inside?”

“Yeah! Your house is like a castle!” Kelsey took Maverick’s hand—he hadn’t held it out to her, she simply folded her hand over the edge of his, under his thumb. His head jerked down at her touch, and then he glanced at Jenny, like he was guilty.

She liked that bit of deference to her, but it hurt her heart, too. “It’s okay. I’m glad.”

With her blessing, he led Kelsey through the front door, and Jenny followed.

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~oOo~

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Oh—it was a nice house. And fully decorated. He’d been out of prison for less than a month. How had he acquired so much stuff already? Had he bought it furnished?

Her questions must have been clear on her face, because he answered them. “Mo went on a shopping spree. There’s still a couple of empty rooms, but she got the important stuff done for me. You know how Mo loves to shop.”

The living room was just off the front hall. There was a long, stacked-stone fireplace with a heavy mantelpiece. The furniture was comfortable and masculine, and actually had a bit of Maverick’s personality. Mo had done a good job.

The dining room was empty, but the kitchen had a round oak table and four chairs in a bright bay-window breakfast nook that looked out over the back yard—big and green, with handsome trees making cool shade. A slab patio ran from the back door to the outside edge of the bay window.

Kelsey gasped theatrically. “Mommy, look! A princess house!”

At the back of the yard stood a dainty house, creamy white with pink trim, and even a little porch with a pink railing. A playhouse. The day before, he’d asked about her favorite color and sounded a little disappointed that it wasn’t pink. Jenny thought she now knew why.

“Daddy, is it for me? Can I play in it? My birthday is in four days, you know. I am going to be four years big.” She held up her fingers to show her father.

“I know! The house is for you, but we need to ask your mom if it’s okay to play in it.”

“Mommy, can I play in my new house?”

Jenny stepped around the table and chairs so she could see more of the yard. A tall cedar fence. Well-tended grass. Good shade trees. No sharp fence posts or rocks. “Sure. That sounds fun.”

“Yeah!” Kelsey looked frantically for the door. Maverick chuckled and opened it for her, and she ran out. After a few steps, she spun and ran back, throwing her arms around Maverick’s legs. “Thank you, Daddy!”

Just as quickly, she spun away again and ran to her house. Maverick stood there, his face a portrait of shock and awe.

Again Jenny said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Still stunned, he shook his head. Then he blinked and focused on her. “I am, too. I’m not holding a grudge, Jen. I’m just so fucking glad she’s here now. And you, too.”

“You have to watch your language now.” She smiled, wanting him to know she was teasing—and also true.

He laughed. “I guess I do. Hey—can we step away from her for a second? The fence is solid, and the gate’s locked. I want to show you something before I show her. Is that okay?”

Jenny stepped past him to lean out the open door. “Kelsey!”

Kelsey opened a little casement window and peeked her head out. “Yeah, Mommy?”

“I’m going to be inside with your daddy for a few minutes. We’ll leave the door open. You stay in the yard. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll stay in the yard. I’m making tea and crumpets!”

Jenny cocked her head at Maverick. “Tea and crumpets?”

She thought he might have blushed. “There’s a kitchen set in there, and a table and chairs, and a little easy chair. It was all set up at the store, and I got everything. Didn’t seem right to give her an empty house. I don’t know about the tea and crumpets.”

“That’s in a book she likes.”

“Shit.” He slapped his forehead. “Books. I didn’t get her any books. Oh—shit, I said shit.”

Jenny laughed. “It’s okay. She loves to go to the library and pick out books to borrow. And she’ll yell at you for using ugly words and mean talk, so be careful.”

“You made a great little girl, Jenny. She’s—she’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is. I don’t know how much of that’s my doing, though. I’m not Mom of the Year material.”

“I don’t believe that.”

With a shrug, Jenny changed the subject. “What did you want to show me?”

“Yeah. This way.”

When he took her hand, she didn’t pull away.

He led her through the living room and down a long hallway. Several doors lined the hall, all but one of them closed. The open one led to a bathroom, and Jenny noticed a fabric shower curtain and towels hanging on a rod, all in brown and white stripes. Even the bathroom had been carefully decorated.

As they continued down the hallway, the sharp, not-unpleasant scent of latex paint hung in the air. Maverick opened a door, and the scent became instantly stronger. He led her inside.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “Mav...what did you do?”

He walked around to stand at her other side. It felt like he did that a lot, put himself on her left side. She wondered if it was some kind of prison thing, like a habit he’d built up to keep people on his stronger side.

“I wanted her to have a room here. Of her own. If it’s too soon or too much, I understand. That’s why I wanted you to see it first.”

She was standing in a confection of a little girl’s bedroom. The furniture was simple and white, typical kid furniture, except for the little three-mirror vanity in the corner and the pink puff sitting before it. But the walls were mint green, and the linens had a pink rose pattern with mint green stripes, and the curtains matched. Even the pink mini-blinds in the window matched. A few fluffy pink throw rugs were scattered over the hardwood floor, and there was a toy chest, like a white treasure chest, under the window.

A ring hung from the ceiling, just above the head of the bed. White netting hung down from it and draped over the bed. A canopy. Kelsey’s heart would explode.

“You did all this since yesterday?”

He shook his head. “Since then, I painted and put up the window stuff, and Mo picked up the bedding and rugs. The furniture I’d already bought. And the playhouse was the first thing I did—I built that right after I took possession, before I had anything to move in here.”

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out sound or sense. Emotion surged like a tidal wave through her, and she couldn’t hold it back. She put her hands over her mouth as a last resort, but the sobs came anyway.

“It’s too much,” Maverick muttered. “I’m sorry. Goddammit.”

She shook her head, trying to stop. When he put his arms around her, she needed the comfort and didn’t fight it—and she was comforted.

“You bought our house,” she finally choked out against his chest.

“What?”

“When we were looking. This is what we wanted. You have our house.”

His hand smoothed over her hair. “Say the word, babe. One word, and it is our house.”

In that declaration, for the first time since she’d gone to the station, she heard the old Maverick—the one who’d push and push and push until he got his way. The real Maverick. Was all this a show? Had he planned this?

No—that was ridiculous. Not even Maverick would go so far as to buy a house to prove his point. Still, she broke from his hold and sniffed herself calm.

“It’s not that easy.”

She watched him fight not to argue with her—and, to his credit, he succeeded. Ultimately, he simply nodded. “Okay.”

With another wistful look around Kelsey’s dream room, she sighed and faced Maverick again. “It’s beautiful, Mav. It’s perfect. But it’s too much. For today, at least—I don’t want to overwhelm her. Or confuse her.” She thought of Kelsey’s questions about where her daddy would live and if she’d have a baby brother. “The playhouse is enough for today.”

“Okay. Fair enough. I got mint chocolate chip ice cream. Can she have that?”

Jenny smiled. “Only if I get some, too.”

––––––––

~oOo~

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That night, before she went to bed, Jenny pushed open Kelsey’s door and leaned against the frame. Kelsey slept in a little ball, with Mr. Spotsie tucked firmly in her arms.

This room had been Jenny’s room when she was a little girl. The walls were covered with the same busy, pink and blue floral wallpaper, and the curtains were the same white, ruffled, dotted Swiss tie-backs. The vinyl pull-down shade was the same. The furniture was different—she still slept in the double bed that had been hers growing up, so Kelsey had a new bed and other pieces—and there was a plush area rug on the floor. The toys were different and more plentiful. And the love was more real. Kelsey’s room was better than her own had been, though they’d both occupied the space within these four walls. But it was nothing like what Maverick had made for her.

This house, this life, was nothing at all like that fantasy Maverick was creating. A fantasy close enough to touch. But a fantasy nonetheless.

It was the life they were supposed to have. The life Jenny had thought she’d have, when she was huge with Kelsey and planning a future with Maverick.

Instead, he’d gone away and left her alone to raise their daughter and care for her father, whom he hadn’t quite killed.

And she’d given birth alone in a hospital room, one floor down from her comatose father’s room, with no hand to hold through her pain and her fear but that of a nurse she’d never met.