THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,100

control. I’d get really drunk and still be good at my job. It was like one more challenge I wanted to conquer. Before I knew it, I couldn’t work or live or breathe without a drink.

That’s when Stone stepped in like a muscular, tatted up, vagina-dicked angel. I love Stone for a million different reasons. He saved me when I couldn’t and didn’t want to save myself. I’ll owe him for the rest of my life. That’s what brothers are for though. I’d do the same for him. The person I am today wasn’t the person I was five years ago, Windsor. It’s been a progressive change leading up to the day I met you. The ascension of Thomas Maverick Hart was complete the night I looked into your blue eyes and you stuttered “no thank you.”

Selfishly, I’m asking you to accept this part of me, because it will always be a part of me whether you know it or not, unfortunately. It hurts because I know you deal with a family member with an alcohol problem. It’s not fair to you, but in the spirit of honesty—here it is…a snippet from my dark past. This got a little deeper than I intended. I’m better, but I’m not fixed.

My only addiction these days is you. I promise.

I wish it were your hand on my chest,

Maverick

P.S. I’ll see your sexy ass tomorrow. What I have planned for next week is even better than flowers. Just wait. Oh, and Goose can whine all damn night if he wants. We won’t be sleeping.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Windsor

I NEVER GET up this early. Ever. I’ve showered, put on makeup, and checked my Skype messenger fifty times anticipating Maverick’s screen name popping up. We’ve only spoken a few times on the phone over the course of the month. Mostly e-mails and small messaging chats here and there have comprised our communication.

He confessed some pretty dark things from his past that made me both scared and reassured, honestly. It doesn’t bother me that he was…is an alcoholic. Honestly, it explains a lot. The way he was with women before me being one of the things. He seems like a changed man for the most part. I know firsthand how slippery that slope can be.

I’ll be there for him though. As long as he needs me, I’ll be here. It’s also odd because it seems like Maverick is a person who could single-handedly save the world…and he needs saving. That’s what scares me. The things-aren’t-always-what-they-seem aspect of his confession. I wouldn’t have guessed that “something” about him.

My mother turned to the bottle for so long that I never knew anything was wrong with it until I was older. Maybe that’s it. It was never hidden. Maverick hid this from me. Did he hide it from everyone? From Stone? Did Stone stop him when he found out, or did he let it go on until it affected others? I won’t bring it up, because it doesn’t make a difference now. The past is the past. I, of all people, know that.

I haven’t seen his face, outside of photos, since the day he left. I push the black lacy lingerie down my thighs and run my fingers through my hair. I’m more nervous than I was the night I lost my virginity in high school. And that guy? He shook my hand to congratulate me on a job well done. So, you understand just how unusual this feeling is to me. I miss Maverick so much. Not just him, but everything about him. The way he looks at me, the way he handles the world around him so effortlessly. I miss the way he knows what I’m thinking even before I know. His lack of presence in my world leaves a gaping hole.

I take two of the throw pillows on my bed and puff them together to make them bigger, and climb onto my bed to continue my wait. I slipped Goose into Gretchen’s bed early this morning so I could have some privacy. He shouldn’t see what’s about to take place. Right?

TMH pops up on my list in a blaze of loud alerts and my stomach flips completely over. He types me a message the second he gets online.

TMH: You’re up? Good.

WinnieF: I’ve been up for a long time. I’m so nervous. Is your Internet connection good enough for a face call?

Please say yes. Please say yes. And if he says no, please don’t let me cry.

TMH: We’re a go. The