Chapter Thirteen - Anger (Maya)

Nearly a week went by without a peep from Maverick. Maya had begun to think that the unfortunate series of run-ins had finally reached its end. Until a gentle knock on the door caught her ear as she put together a midnight snack. She bent backwards to check the time on the oven. Well, an eleven-thirty-six snack.

Even without checking the window, Maya instinctively knew who was at the door. She carried her popcorn with her as she pulled back the curtain to confirm, before opening the door.

“What do you want, Maverick? I need to sleep.”

“Just give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ve got something very important to tell you. Something you’re not going to like, but you need to hear.”

For the first time since his last appearance on her porch, she looked at his face, and nearly stepped back at the sheer vulnerability of his expression. He was serious. Every word he spoke was true.

And with that realization, Maya felt her knees grow weak. Her first thought was that something horrible had turned up on Toby’s medical chart at the hospital—but Maverick had changed the care team. He wouldn’t be monitoring that, would he? Or maybe his girlfriend told him something about Gus’s soccer team. Maybe they were kicking him off due to her personal history with Maverick. Surely they wouldn’t punish a child for her mistakes, right? He loved his team. Or maybe Maverick had finally convinced Jeden that she wasn’t worth kee—

“Maya, I can almost hear you spiraling. Nothing is changing. Well . . . at least nothing outside your control is changing. Your kids are fine.”

She blinked rapidly as he came back into focus, then nodded briskly, a modicum of relief unfreezing her limbs.

Maverick cleared his throat, then waved a hand at the swing on her porch. “I think it would be best if you sat for this conversation.” He leaned against the porch rail. “I’ll stand.”

Maya didn’t bother arguing, she simply moved to the seat, setting the popcorn on the open cushion to her left, and leant forward, her hands on her knees, in the hope that he would hurry up and spit out the news.

“So there’s a couple things you don’t know about me,” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “Like how I was a big kid. Tall,” he said the words with emphasis. As if they were supposed to mean something.

“Obviously,” Maya said, her tongue finally unsticking. “You’re a giant.”

His lips twisted as he scratched his beard. “Giant feels like an exaggeration.”

“It’s not. And this isn’t news.”

“Okay.” He paused. “There’s also the fact that I have a hereditary cashew allergy.”

Maya’s breath caught as she eyed him. The pieces of what he was saying finally fitting together to reveal the picture he’d painted. She huffed a breath and she pulled to her feet, annoyed that he’d managed to get her worked up for nothing. “You think I faked a paternity test?” She laughed, though the sound rang caustic and unamused. “I wanted him to be yours, so stop this. Why can’t you just leave me alone, Maverick?”

“I don’t think you faked it,” he said instead. His eyes blazing. “I think your parents did.”

Maya blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A chorus of crickets chirped harmoniously in the background, filling the quiet.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Toby is my son.” He held up a manila folder between them, angling it towards Maya. “I had it checked twice.”

Maya lowered herself slowly back onto the swing, eyeing the folder like a viper coiled to strike.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does, if you think about it.”

Maya shook her head. Her parents had set up and paid for the tests. Would they have manipulated the results? With a dawning horror, she was met with the obvious realization that yes, they absolutely would have—if they’d thought it would get her away from Maverick.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she slapped a hand over her mouth, fighting against the urge to be sick.

All those years of heartbreak and self-hatred, knowing she’d gotten knocked up with another man’s child while engaged. It was a lie. A lie her parents orchestrated—no doubt as a means to control her.

And her sweet Toby.

Charles must’ve know the truth. There was always a disconnect between him and Toby. Maya had assumed it was because Toby didn’t look like Charles, not in the way Gus did. Toby had always been a bigger kid, with darker hair and big chocolate irises. Maya had thought he got his coloring from her side of the family—but faced with the reality of the situation, she realized it was Maverick, all along, bleeding through in the most blatant manner. She’d simply never allowed herself to see the truth.

She grabbed the envelope and pulled out the results, scanning them for a verification she didn’t need. “How?”

“He spit out some gum at the game, I just retrieved it. I didn’t, like, swab him or anything.”

“No.” Maya gasped the word, speaking around the lump in her throat. “How is this possible? How did I miss this? All these years. My whole marriage. It was just— I don’t even— How do we possibly—“

“We don’t have to figure it all out tonight, Maya.” His voice was gentle, soothing. As if she were the one who needed to calm down.

But all she felt was heartbreak—not anger. Anger would come later, surely. But for now, she grieved for the girl who lost her path. And more than anything else, she grieved for the little boy who spent seven years trying to live up to the expectations of a man who would never love him. The boy who’d missed out on an opportunity to know his father. And for the father—who could never get those years back. Who’d missed out on ten years of his son’s childhood.

She bit down on a finger as a sob broke free. How could one be angry with that much grief to process?

“I’m so sorry, Maverick,” she whispered, staring down at the positive stamps on both tests. It was irrefutable.

“This wasn’t on you.” His jaw was tight when Maya risked a glance up, his eyes suddenly guarded, the vulnerability gone as he avoided her gaze.

“There’s something else,” she breathed, her stomach roiling. “What else could there be?”

“We don’t need to hash it all out tonight. This was already a lot. Why don’t we just take the night and tomor—“

Maya pushed up to her feet, her eyes fierce. “Tell me. Right now.”

“The other thing isn’t a fact, it’s just a hunch.” He sighed. “Something I plan to do some more research into. I don’t think . . .“ He paused, eyeing her expectant gaze. “Fine. But can you please sit back down? Just for a minute.”

She sat. He took a step closer, his voice lowering, adopting an edge that wasn’t there before.

“I know this is going to sound extreme. And it may be something you’ve considered before, or it may be something you’ve subconsciously chosen to not consider.” He rambled, sucking down a deep breath before he continued. “But I, well, I think there’s a good chance you were assaulted, Maya. The night of the banquet. And I think you may have been drugged first.”

She closed her eyes at the words, letting her mind drift back to the night of the banquet, as it had so many times before. She’d gotten drinks from the bar, but she’d known how to be careful. She’d kept her eyes on that first drink the entire time the bartender made it. But her gaze had kept slipping, her eyes sliding shut of their own accord. That hadn’t been normal. And her heart—it had been beating so fast in her chest, making her hiccup, even before she’d gotten that first drink. But the only drink she’d had before the bar was the tea her moth—

Maya launched back to her feet, shaking her head. “I need to think. I need— I have to go.”

Maverick nodded, his eyes on the ground as he stepped out of her path. “You know how to reach me, Maya. Just text me when you’re ready to talk.”

She brushed past him, not even fully registering his words. She knew they had a lot to discuss. A decade of trauma to untangle and resolve. But for right now, Maya had bigger fish to fry.

Because there were parts of the story still missing. Truths left unspoken. And as she stepped back into her house and dialed her mother’s number, Maya realized that she’d finally found her anger.