Chapter Two - Shut that Door (Maverick)

Her dress was pale blue, so thin and silky that it looked more like something she’d wear to bed than to a holiday party. But there she was, wandering through the center of the crowded dance floor, looking like his most erotic fantasy and worst nightmare, all rolled into one. Her curls were loose, wild and free down her back, the way Maverick adored; and her heels were taller than she normally wore. She stumbled a step and Maverick’s breath caught, concern his first instinct, overpowering the questions that plagued him. Why was she dressed that way? Why hadn’t she called? Where was she even at?

Maverick’s hand strangled the phone in his grip when a familiar navy suit entered the video. Fucking Charles Vendai. He walked right up to Maya, as if he had a right, his hand slipping around her waist with all the audacity of a man who’d known nothing but privilege. And Maya… she didn’t fight it.

This was no grainy recording from the opposite corner of a room, the vantage point of the video couldn’t be further than five feet from where Maya had paused, swaying slightly on those too-high heels. So Maverick had a front row seat to the 4k image of Charles bending down and whispering in Maya’s ear. The sight made nausea swirl in his gut, but he buried the instinct to rage. He didn’t know what was happening. What was being said. He didn’t even know when the clip had been filmed — maybe her parents… No, Maverick paused. He narrowed his eyes, pulling the phone to the very edge of his nose to squint at the scene, his stomach swooping low and heavy.

The reflection of a light had caught his attention and for a moment, he’d thought it was a mistake — nothing but a trick of the eye… but upon closer inspection, the truth was clear. Maya was wearing his ring. The ring he’d gifted her not even twenty-four hours ago. This video had been taken sometime between the point when he’d kissed her goodbye at the airport, six hours past, and the timestamp of the email he’d received twenty minutes ago.

He was just about to close it and dial her number, to figure out what the fuck was going on, when Maya turned in the other man’s arms, and Maverick was forced to watch in helpless agony as Charles lowered his head, drawing Maya in for a deep, slow kiss.

“Push him off!” Maverick yelled, jolting forward and tunneling a hand through his hair. What the fuck was she doing? Why wasn’t she stopping it?

One of the hands dangling useless at her sides began to rise and Maverick’s heart thumped with pathetic hope, only to die a thousand deaths when she wrapped the hand around the back of Charles’ neck.

“No!” Maverick screamed, a sob stealing his breath. “Stop Maya,please,” he begged, unable to do anything but watch as Charles turned them around, away from the camera, and began guiding Maya towards an elevator. She would never. It was a trick. It was a fucking show. He dropped the phone on the bed, shaking his head, trying to remember how to breathe.

She wouldn’t do this.

His lungs weren’t working, his vision fading.

She wouldn’t.

“MAVERICK!” The word seared through his mind, jolting him from the nightmare and into reality like a bucket of ice water to the face. He clutched at his chest, relieved to feel it moving, breathing. Then he blinked and raised a hand, swiping at his cheek and hissing with the realization that he’d actually cried at the memory.

What a fucking joke.

He glanced sideways, suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone, and threw his legs from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom.

“Mav-“ Riley began, her voice cutting off with the click of the door behind him.

He stumbled to the sink, his hands gripping the rim as his breath sawed through his lungs in deep, ragged inhales. He’d thought he’d put it all behind him, but the run-in that morning had brought it all back, every minuscule detail, as if it had happened that very night.

He flipped the faucet on, cupping his hands and splashing the water on his face. It served to bring him back into the moment, to calm his stomach and smooth the fear running rampant in his veins. That memory was a decade old and he’d put it behind him. At least, he thought he had. Until he spent five minutes in her presence and ten years of progression flushed itself down the toilet.

He straightened, meeting his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. The memory of her stricken look in the house that morning, Jeden at her side, stole through his mind — but he pushed it away, burying it with the memory of the video and the endless, relentless nightmares.

He’d done nothing wrong. She was the one to take something good, something precious, and set it on fire. She was the one to betray him. She was the one who turned up ten years later in his community, buddy-ing up to his friends, acting like the victim. It was par for the course with Maya.

No. Maria.

Maverick wasn’t sure why she had everybody using his old nickname for her, but it landed like a punch to the gut, another unnecessary reminder of when things had been good. Of everything she’d destroyed.

A knock on the door caught Maverick unawares and he tore his gaze from the mirror, blinking quickly as he tried to remember how long he’d been standing there.

“Maverick… honey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Just a minute.”

Riley didn’t respond, but Maverick heard the soft padding of her feet moving back across the hard wood, then the unmistakable sound of the bed creaking as she laid back down. He’d have to come up with something to tell her. Maverick wasn’t a liar, but they’d only been seeing each other a few weeks. Explaining that he’d had a visceral, realistic night terror about the evening, ten years ago, when the love of his life had destroyed their lives, and that this very same woman had just moved her family into the house down the street and weaseled her way into a job with one of Maverick’s closest friends, was not the sort of baggage he felt he could lay at the feet of a woman who’d only just stayed the night for the first time the week prior.

The situation with Maya—Maria was a moot point. If he had his way, she’d be packing up and moving out within a week. He just needed to talk to Jeden, to make her see reason. And when she was gone, so would be the memories — and the dreams. He could return to his life. He’d built it alone, without her, and he’d be damned before he let her steal an iota of his joy a second time over.

No, May-Maria had never been one to stand her ground. It wouldn’t take much to run her off and then there’d be nothing to admit. Nothing to disrupt his new relationship. And, just maybe, being the one to send her away could finally bring Maverick the closure he needed to put the feelings and memories he’d shared with Maria to rest.

To shut that door once and for all.

To move on.