Chapter Twelve - Twix (Maverick)

Maverick stood on the edge of Maya’s porch for far longer than he should’ve, until the golden lights of a car’s headlights on the street ahead swept over the porch and startled him back into the moment.

He stepped forward, nearly stumbling in his haste to leave her porch before someone called the police for a giant man loitering on a single mom’s porch at nearly midnight.

However . . . he couldn’t go home. Not with the relentless thoughts making his head spin, and the fear pumping through his veins. He rolled her words around his mind, over and over. The conviction in her voice. The apology. The anger.

For just a moment, he let himself consider the possibility that she was telling the truth. And the weight of what she said landed squarely upon his chest, making each breath the followed a focused endeavor.

He paused on the sidewalk, resting a hand on the bark of a tree to his left as he sucked in deep, shaking breaths. If she were telling the truth . . . it meant everything he’d believed, everything he’d done over the last ten years, had been founded in another lie. But whose?

He laid a hand upon his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart at the mounting evidence suggesting, with more clarity each and every day, that her oldest son, Toby, could be his child.

And it meant that Maya, in all her trusting naivety, could not only be an innocent party to this clusterfuck of a situation—but she may be the greatest victim of all.

---

“I don’t see you,” Maverick grunted, scanning the fields a third time. There were hundreds of moving bodies, parents toting chairs and drinks as they rushed to secure the best spots along the sidelines, pointing out their own kids to whoever settled down beside them. Boys and girls dribbled balls up and down the fields, laughing and shouting as they went. And the buzzing of a light pole to his right overshadowed it all with a deafening electrified hum that made him question the structural integrity of the design.

“On the third field, directly across from concessions,” Riley answered. “I’d come to you, but it’s their first scrimmage night and I don’t really trust them enough to walk away.” Her voice lowered. “They’re like eight.”

“Hey, I’m nine!” One voice shouted through the line, making Maverick’s lips curve despite his mood. He hurried forward, looking for the tiny numbered signs hidden amongst the throng of bodies littering the field.

“Found it,” he said, glancing up to find Riley watching him, waving from the other side. She wore a black tank and a pair of gold shorts that matched the lettering of the team’s purple jerseys. She pointed towards the sidewalk at the end of the field, and he nodded, moving towards the intersection point.

“Thank you,” she breathed as they met and she grabbed the Tylenol from his hand, gulping them down. “My head has been pounding for hours, but between class, then a couple parent conferences, then I had to come straight here—“

“Riley, I got you, it’s all good.” He glanced back at the field where the boys were practicing their passes. “Need any help with the team?”

Her eyes widened. “Actually, if you’re free, that would be—“

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice snapped.

Maverick turned, a fresh wave of regret rolling through him at the sight of Gus with his arms crossed tightly across his very own purple and gold jersey.

“Gus?” He said aloud.

“I didn’t invite you.”

Riley glanced between the two of them, her brows creased tightly together. “You two know each other?”

“He’s my neighbor—“ Maverick answered at the same moment that Gus scoffed loudly.

“He’s mean. He shouldn’t be here.”

The crease smoothed in an instant as Riley’s brows skyrocketed into her hairline. Her gaze jumped up, meeting Maverick’s as he grimaced, opening his mouth to explain, “I—“

“What is he doing here?” Another voice asked, and Maverick turned to find Toby jogging up behind him. “Did you invite him?”

“No,” Gus answered, his tone offended at the accusation.

Toby turned, spitting his gum out onto the sidewalk at Maverick’s feet. Maverick watched it land on an old Twix wrapper before he met the kid’s brown-eyed glare and was reminded, once again, how foolish he’d been to not investigate this further.

“Hey, I’m sorry, what is going on over . . .” Maya’s voice puttered out as she drew to a stop before Maverick and Riley. Her gaze fell to Toby and Gus, clearly at a loss. “What’s happening?”

Riley stepped forward immediately, extending a hand. “Hi, Maya right? I’m sorry, I’m the substitute coach for the night while Roger is out sick. Maverick was just bringing me some medication and it looks like your boys may have recognized him.”

“Right.” Maya’s voice was tense as she eyed Riley, steadily ignoring Maverick’s presence. “Is there any sort of problem?”

Riley shook her head. “All is good, priority here is the kids. Maverick was just about to head back out. Right?” She said, turning to face Maverick with a plea in her eyes. She clearly didn’t want to be the cause of any brewing drama, especially with the busybody parents at the edge of the field overtly eavesdropping.

He glanced toward Maya and found she still wasn’t looking his way, her eyes focused squarely on Riley. And for the first time in a long, long time, Maverick felt the absence of her attention like he’d missed a beat of his heart.

Then he turned back to Riley, guilt souring his stomach. Even if he learned things were different than he’d been lead to believe—it wouldn’t change the past ten years. His relationship with Maya was history and he had a good thing going with Riley. He needed to clear his head. Get it back on straight before he blew up one more good thing in his life.

But if Maya hadn’t cheated . . .

“Right, well, I’m heading out.” Maverick ran a hand over his beard and backed up. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t cheated, she couldn’t even look at him. Even now, she just nodded toward Riley and then turned the opposite direction, ushering the boys away.

He knew he wouldn’t survive a second round. So why was the thought there in the first place? Why couldn’t he shake it free?

“Thank you,” Riley repeated her words from earlier, casting him a grateful look as she turned and jogged back towards the player benches along the sidelines.

But Maverick didn’t mind. Because with everybody’s backs to him, nobody noticed when he bent down and picked up the discarded Twix wrapper at his feet. And he didn’t bother looking back to see if anybody watched as he left the park.