“Mav?” I whisper, half believing this is some mirage and the fatigue and hunger have me hallucinating.
But then he says the words that only he would say.
“Wagwan, Gorgeous.”
In the middle of the parking lot, not caring who’s watching or what anyone would think, I fling myself into his arms. More like collapse, droop. And the tears I’ve managed to stave off all day, hell, for weeks, maybe months, break past the restraining wall, overflow my heart, and flood my eyes.
“She was on the floor,” I sob into the crook of his neck. “And I couldn’t… she wouldn’t… she wouldn’t wake up.”
Words are so inadequate to express my helplessness; the despair at not only what happened with my mother tonight, but what is happening to her and to all of us. And how this whole situation is a runaway train welded to the tracks with an inevitable crash looming.I’mbeing crushed. I’m already under the charging mammoth metal of this diagnosis. Trapped and being dragged beneath the wheels of an unavoidable conclusion to my mother’s life. It’s slow, but unrelenting. I’m tied to the tracks and hypnotized by the lights. It all comes crashing down and the tears are a deluge.
“I was so scared,” I say, barely able to get the confession out for the tears.
“I know.” Maverick kisses my temple and runs long strokes of comfort down my back. “I’m sorry, Hen. I got you, baby. I’m here.”
I sniff and nod, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as if making sure he actuallyishere. I’m still getting used to needing him, and I already don’t ever want him to go.
CHAPTER 41
MAVERICK
You’re still in the boondocks?” Bolt asks.
I adjust my earphones and bark out a laugh, leaning my elbows on the desk in the office Hendrix told me used to be her father’s. “It’s not the boondocks. It’s a small town outside of Charlotte.”
“Semantics. Everything under control? How’s Mrs. Barry?”
“Much better. She’s been home a few days now and is taking her medications like she’s supposed to,” I say. “Looking at her, you’d never know a few days ago she was in the hospital. It was a lot for Hendrix, though, especially with her aunt down, too.”
“Do you need anything? Need me to come?”
I glance around the room Hendrix and I have commandeered for meetings, which is also apparently some kind of cemetery for sewing machines.
“No, I’m fine. Just keep my schedule clear of anything that isn’t absolutely essential.”
“So pretty much only the Vipers deal?”
“I need everything on that. We’re too close. I can’t drop any balls there. We’re just waiting on the league’s final clearance.”
“How’s it feel? Buying the team that dissed your dad for years?” I detect a bit of a smile in Bolt’s voice.
“It feels good because the league needs more Black owners and because my father deserves this. I think it will give him something to focus on.”
I don’t saynow that my mother is gone, but I don’t have to. Bolt and everyone close to me knows how devastated my father has been since we lost my mom. The photos on the desk from years ago of Hendrix with her parents remind me there is a gaping hole in their family with her father gone, too.
Grief is some bullshit.
“Andy Jr. wants to talk today at three o’clock eastern,” Bolt says. “That still work?”
“Sure. I gotta get it over with. His one last chance to have any leverage over me. If I could find a way to do this deal without keeping his ass on, I would.”
“The lawyers say they’ve exhausted all the avenues available to us, and he’s part of the package. His family wants to remain involved with the leadership, even if they don’t hold a controlling interest of the team.”
“I know. Wishful thinking. Yeah. I’ll talk to him later today.”
I stand and walk over to the wall of shelves holding lots of books, mostly manuals for mechanics and car repair. I pick up a photo of Hendrix as a cheerleader, which I would never have predicted.
Wonder if that uniform is lying around somewhere… Maybe up in the attic?