THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,114

respect. Maverick openly weeps, his face covered by both of his hands.

About those memories? Nothing but destruction.

_______________

I didn’t approach Maverick at the funeral. I hugged Morganna and told her to call me during a lull when Maverick was with the other guys. I’m a coward at best. I snuck out of the church and cried all the way home while Gretchen drove. I haven’t cried in public like that for a while. I don’t let myself cry for Maverick anymore. At least not in the relationship sense. I used up all the sympathy cards with Nash. No one should have to deal with Windsor’s broken heart ever again. So, I don’t let anyone know just how much I’m hurting. Today, I let the floodgates open because seeing the type of pain Maverick and Morganna are in is terrible. Mav once told me that funerals are commonplace in his community. He said most of the time he didn’t know the person that well, but sometimes he did. He said you try not to be affected by death outwardly, that you deal with it and move on. Because who wants to have a job that has an expiration date? That’s scary, and I don’t care who you are or how much you bench press. Doom and gloom constantly take a toll on morale.

Goose greets me when I push through the door. I pick up my fuzzy dog and retreat to my room. I glance at the cards on my table. The week after Maverick sent a bunch of flowers, he had cards sent. Each one was valid for a long weekend away with him. I was so excited when I got those cards. Fate had other ideas. Fate is a bitch.

“Call him,” Gretchen says from my doorway.

I kick off my shoes, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m not sure what we are anymore.”

“Even more reason to call him.”

I shrug my shoulders. It would be the polite thing to do. Somehow I know he won’t answer anyway. I pick up my phone and pull up my speed dial. I hit number one, because I refuse to remove him from that spot, and tap his name. It rings once, and then again.

Phillipe’s voice says, “Maverick’s phone.” I scrunch up my brows and look at the phone. I definitely dialed Maverick and not Morganna.

“Windsor? Hello, Windsor?” Phillipe prompts.

“Yeah, I’m here. Why do you have his phone?” I ask.

“I’m fielding calls for both Mr. Hart and Morganna now. Do you want to leave a message?”

I shake my head. “Yeah, tell him Windsor called and that I want to…,” I stutter. “Just tell him Windsor called.” I can’t force myself to utter the generic condolences. Phillipe voices noise of approval and I imagine him scribbling my name down on his pad of power. “That was so damn weird,” I tell Gretchen.

Gretchen sighs. “Go to his house to talk to him in person. He’s not giving you much of a choice.”

I widen my eyes, already shaking my head no. “No way in hell.” Gretchen doesn’t say another word. She leaves my room, clicking the door closed.

Feeling sorry for Maverick and myself, I fall asleep crying, Goose licking my face the entire time. I wake several hours later to a pitch black room and my phone buzzing next to me.

Maverick’s handsome face is on the screen, signaling his call. I hit the green answer button quickly and pull the phone to my ear. I hear Maverick breathing on the other end and it surprises me. I guess I expected Phillipe to pass along a message.

“Hello,” I croak out. Maverick sighs long, and hard. “Are you there?”

“Yeah. I got a message you called today,” he slurs. “And I just wanted to call you back to tell you…I got your message.”

Maverick is completely shit faced. I’ve never heard him like this. While it warms me everywhere just hearing his voice, I know he probably won’t even remember talking to me or calling me in the morning. “Are you okay, Maverick?” I realize how freaking stupid the question is the second I speak it.

“No,” he whispers simply.

“Do you want me to come over? I figured you wanted space…you haven’t reached out since…you know,” I say. I palm my forehead. I sound like an idiot.

I hear liquid splashing and then he coughs. “I called to tell you not to call anymore.”

“Okay. That’s counterproductive; you could have just ignored the message, like you’ve ignored me for the past few