Page 20 of Can't Get Enough

“At first we kept trying to tell himyou don’t drive the bus anymore. No one is waiting for you, but that just seemed to devastate him. A man who had always had people depending on him, needing him, to hear that no one did anymore.”

“You’re a real downer, you know that?” I ask, bumping his shoulder with mine.

“I guess that did sound pretty sad, huh?” He glances over at me, ahint of a curve to his lips. “We stopped trying to reason with him and eventually just took all the clocks out of the house so he wouldn’t know when it was seven or three. Worked most days.”

I can’t help but think of the hymns I sing and all the small things Aunt Geneva and I do to help Mama navigate the present when the past calls to her so strongly. Maverick and I are like soldiers trading war stories, only his battles are behind him. I’m still in the trenches. In many ways, just getting started.

“She has really good days where it’s like she’s herself,” I tell him, “but then in a matter of hours, she’s paranoid or agitated or terrified. It’s not a line her brain is drawing from here to the end. It zigzags. More like a maze, and half the time I feel like I’m lost in there with her.”

“Hey.” He touches my shoulder, prompting me to tear my gaze away from the gorgeous bay and look at him. “I know we just met, but I don’t believe in chance.”

“Aren’t you the betting app guy?” I teasingly scoff. “How can you not believe in chance?”

“I don’t believe in wasted meetings. Maybe that’s a better way to say it. Basically, this, with your mom, it’s not something people understand unless they’ve lived it. I’ve lived it. This may sound weird since we just met, but if you ever need someone to talk to…”

I don’t answer, but simply search his face. There’s no sign of subterfuge, ulterior motive, or creepy cheater boyfriend vibes, so after a beat, I nod. “Thanks. I might.”

The wall of politeness typically standing between you and a stranger isn’t there with Maverick. Our shared experience, the loss he understands when so few do, barreled through that barrier. And I don’t know him or even know him enough to trust him, but I do see him. And I feel like he sees me. That’s more than you can ask from most people you’ve known for years. We so rarely truly see people in their hurt. It’s even rarer not to flinch—not to look away from another’s pain.

“Mav!”

We both turn toward his name being called. Zere and Chapel are picking their way down the grassy hill wearing spindly summer sandals.

“Babe,” Zere huffs, and I’m not sure if she’s out of breath or patience. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s time for the fireworks. We need to go do the toast.”

“Sure.” He knocks back the last of his drink, dangling the empty glass from one hand and slipping the other hand into the pocket of his well-cut slacks. “Can’t say I’m sorry this is almost over.”

Something that looks like hurt pinches Zere’s pretty face.

“Shit.” He takes her hand and holds her eyes with his. “I meant the party, Zee. The party.”

“Right.” She paints on a bright smile that she spreads between Chapel and me. “Well, ladies, come on. We’re watching the fireworks from the other pier. You don’t want to miss it.”

They walk slightly ahead of us, hand in hand. Chapel and I seem to by tacit agreement fall far enough behind that we can’t hear their conversation. Something is off between them and has been all night, but who am I to question their relationship? Every couple has an off night or a rough patch.

“You sure you’re okay?” Chapel asks, linking her elbow through mine. “I could tell the call really upset you.”

“I’ll be fine.” I sigh, continuing down the pier and giving her arm a squeeze. “It just catches me off guard sometimes, this new reality.”

“I get it. I mean, I’m not sure I can totally understand what you’re going through, but I can imagine.”

My gaze drifts to Maverick standing beside Zere at the edge of the pier, a relaxed smile on his face as he lets her do the talking and the toasting. He gets it. If no one else at this party gets what I’m going through, he does.

The fireworks explode and whistle across the horizon. We raise our glasses to toast the sky, a vibrant star-filled dome of color and spark. It’s a chaos of sound and sight that sets the world above us on rainbow fire.

And I was wrong. This isn’t useless. It somehow lifts my spirits, the fireworks streaking through the moon-split clouds and soaring as if striving for outer space. Neon confetti flares in the night sky, brilliant colors mirrored on the glassy water. Beauty like this is enough just for its own sake.

When I drop my eyes from the spectacle overhead I meet Maverick’s considering stare. He almost seems to silently ask if I’m okay, if I’m better now. I smile and raise my glass to him, allowing the warmth of his answering grin to thaw out those last few corners that froze inside when I talked to my mother. The petrified places that always leave me shivering and uncertain.

As I look from him back to the electric night, I can’t help but think that maybe beauty’s never wasted and maybe Maverick’s right.

Nothing ever happens by chance.

CHAPTER 6

HENDRIX

How was the party?” asks my assistant Skipper, crossing the office and offering life-giving fuel, my morning grande.

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