Alexa had been totally and absolutely stunned, especially when Grant hadn’t helped her. Instead, a bitter, humorless laugh had spilled out of him and he’d said, “Way to prove my point, Alexa. I don’t know why I put up with your shit. If you can’t show me and my house a little respect, you can leave,” he’d said, and then he’d stormed out.
His house? Granted, she’d only moved in a few weeks before, but she’d moved in for keeps.
Shocked, she’d lain there for long minutes, completely confused and overwhelmed by the pain and his cruel words. So she’d done what he said. She’d fled. To her past. To Maverick Rylan, her dead brother’s best friend, and the man who’d once been her closest friend and lover. It had been pure instinct to seek him out at the clubhouse of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club. Despite everything that’d happened between them, no part of her had doubted that he’d help.
And he had. Or, at least, he’d tried.
But Maverick represented a past she’d left behind for a whole lot of very good, logical, and well-thought-out reasons. So she hadn’t stayed. And she hadn’t answered his questions.
By the time she’d finally returned home, all she could see were the million mistakes she’d made—making that mess, overreacting, going to Maverick and opening that door to the past that she’d kept closed tight for so long. For years. She’d been prepared to plead for Grant’s forgiveness, sure he was going to be done with her once and for all. But he’d surprised her. Because Grant had apologized so profusely he’d gotten down on his knees, his head buried in her lap.
Never before in the nearly five years they’d been together had Grant ever hurt her. At least, not physically. He could be short with her and more controlling when he was stressed, and occasionally his criticism bordered on the mean side. But the truth was Alexa could be messy, which was why she’d tripped, and she could be disorganized and she could be forgetful, all things that drove him crazy. At the same time, Grant could also be generous and sweet and he’d done so much for her and her mother, things Alexa wouldn’t have been able to do on her own. Their lives were better because of Grant Slater.
The night of their fight, things had just gotten out of hand, for both of them. And it was behind them now, so there was no point in dwelling—
“Alexa?” came a deep voice.
Prickles ran up her spine as she pulled herself from the bad memories and lifted her head—and found herself staring at her past, into the dark blue eyes of Maverick Rylan.
Alexa jumped up off the box, her heart suddenly in her throat. She swiped at the wetness on her face half sure she was imagining this man. This man she’d done her best to avoid—for years—until last week.
With his longish sandy-blond hair and his square jaw and his ruthlessly masculine features and his Raven Riders cutoff jacket hanging on those broad shoulders, Maverick was the sexiest man she’d ever known. Had been when they were together five years before, still was even now. No, he was hotter now. More muscular. More rugged somehow. More self-possessed. Utterly desirable.
“You okay?” he asked, stunningly dark blue eyes looking deep into hers.
Snap out of it, Al! Right. Because clearly she wasn’t hallucinating. And that . . . that was a problem.
Releasing a shaky breath, Alexa met his gaze head-on. She had to know. “Maverick, what in the world are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 2
Alexa glanced up and down the quiet street with its manicured lawns and huge colonials and didn’t see any cars that didn’t belong—or any motorcycles. “Where did you even come from?”
Maverick’s gaze narrowed on her face. “You’re crying,” he said, like that explained anything.
“No, I’m not,” she said, brazening it out despite the wetness clinging to her eyelashes. “Seriously, why are you here?” She stopped short of saying he shouldn’t be there, because she suspected that would make him dig in his heels and want to stay. Even though he really shouldn’t be there. Grant wouldn’t like it. Oh, God, why had she gone to Mav for help?
Maverick’s head tilted the smallest amount, like he was assessing her, or challenging her. “You know why I’m here, Al.”
Al. No one in her life called her by that nickname anymore. Tyler had almost always called her Al, which was where Maverick had picked it up. Of course, very few people from her before Grant life were still around either. Somehow, her relationship with Grant and the work they did together had taken over everything until she’d all but lost touch with her friends.
“No, I don’t.” She shook her head not just in answer, but against the old longing she felt for Maverick. In high school, Tyler and Maverick had been thick as thieves, which meant despite their four-year age difference, Alexa had known Maverick long enough to have crushed on him forever, pretty much. It seemed like some part of her had always yearned for him—and always would.