THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,115

weeks. I’m not stupid. I’d understand what that meant. I know you’re hurting Maverick. I forgive you for lying about your wife. I wanted you to know that. Morganna explained everything. I forgive you and I miss you,” I say, pushing Goose off my face for the thousandth time since I answered the phone. Maverick laughs bitterly. I sit straight up in bed—dread filling my stomach.

“You forgive me?” he rasps, coughing once again. He is absolutely sloshing drunk. “Well, I don’t forgive you.”

“What?” I yell. “I know you’re drunk, Maverick. I can smell it through the freaking phone. You aren’t making any sense.” He cuts me off with another laugh.

“You killed him,” he says. I hear him take a pull from a bottle. “I don’t forgive you, Windsor. Don’t leave messages anymore.” As he says the last sentence he sounds stone cold sober.

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone screen for several long seconds before putting it down and pulling Goose into my lap again. I’d like to think he’s just drunk and talking crazy, but deep down I truly believe he thinks his accusations are truth. Who am I to tell him he’s wrong. I fall asleep for the second time in one day with tears streaming down my face.

It will be the last time I let myself cry over Thomas Maverick Hart. Tomorrow I plan to move on with my life, knowing I made another mistake. This time though? I’ll learn from it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Maverick

Two months later

“GET YOUR FUCKING ass out of this bed, out of this room, and out of this house. Go to work, Maverick,” Morganna screeches. I crack one eye. She’s dressed, her blue tooth already installed in one ear. She yanks the blankets down, unwrapping me from my warm cocoon. I stretch my arm to my nightstand to grab the beeping alarm clock. A whiskey bottle and a full glass fall off and spill all over the hardwood.

“Shit,” I murmur, slumping over the bed to pick up the bottle. “I’m up. I’m up. What day is it?” I ask, clutching my aching head, but masking it by rubbing my hand through my hair. I put the bottle to my lips and tip it up to drink the remainder.

“It’s Saturday. But you need to go in to workout. You are a fucking disgraceful slob. I have four meetings today and I can’t babysit you,” Morg says, bending over with a towel in her hand to mop up my mess. “I’ve let you wallow long enough. Stone is rolling in his fucking grave right now.” She looks up to the ceiling and crosses her chest.

“You’re not Catholic, Morganna,” I say.

“I’ll turn myself into fucking Ghandi, Buddha, Lord our Savior if it means you’ll flip the switch. Don’t think I won’t! What if you lose your job?” she seethes. I know I only have a certain amount of time before she gets really mad. I thought it would be longer, though. I’m not ready to give up the bottle. It’s the only thing that dulls the pain. She snatches the bottle out of my hand and throws it on the ground. It shatters. I’m impressed she has enough strength to break it.

“Nice. That’s thick glass,” I admit. Her chest is rising and falling like a dragon. She still hurts. She’s still broken. She hides it better than I can. I hold my hands up. “I’m sorry. Fine. I’ll go in to work,” I say. I have zero plans to go in to work. I want to appease Morganna so she’ll get off my nuts. I want to drink. I want to drink all fucking day. Until I can’t see straight and I’m not sure if I live in reality or a dream.

“Liar,” she says. “I know you’re lying which is why I told her to come over later. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.” She can’t be serious. She sees the shock written on my face and nods, a calculating smile on her lips.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” I stand up and start pacing. I haven’t seen or spoken to Windsor since a hazy, drunken phone conversation the night after Stone’s funeral. At least something I did was successful. I pushed her away completely. Not so much as an e-mail in how long has it been? I wrinkle my brow.

Morganna reads my thoughts. “It’s been two months you idiot and surprise, surprise—Windsor is dating. She’s dating, Maverick. You are going to lose her