Page 81 of Tainted Tempos

“Hey,” Allegra says, entering the kitchen.

The cracked coffee table and empty beer cans that littered the living room floor have been removed, but the smell of stale beer and sick still lingers.

“You don’t have to clean this up,” Allegra says.

I continue to scrub at the butcher block island until her hand comes over mine, stopping me.

“I can’t do nothing,” I say.

“I know. But, Kenny, Mav wouldn’t want you to skip classes or?—”

“I don’t care about school,” I cut her off. “I care about him. Oh, God, Allegra, how will we get past this?”

“By confronting it. By being honest. By communicating,” she says soothingly. “You’ll probably be able to see him by the end of the week.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, continuing my cleaning.

Allegra doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she lets me be. I spend the remainder of the day cleaning the brownstone and rearranging the furniture until it looks like a home again.

Like my home with Mav.

I throw myself into my studies, into early morning runs, into busy work. Anything to distract my mind from Maverick’s twisted smile when he looked at me and said, “I love you, Mckenna. I love you so much.” Right before he nearly fucking died.

At the end of the week, Maverick is allowed to have visitors but when I show up at the rehabilitation facility, he won’t see me.

“I’m sorry, hon,” a kind woman says, offering me a sympathetic smile from behind the reception desk. “Not today.”

“Oh, okay,” I reply. My eyes burn and my heart sinks.

Maverick doesn’t want to see me. Or speak to me. Or even be with me.

I accused him of suffocating me but never realized how much I need him just to breathe.

I go every morning, and each day, I’m turned away.

Maverick doesn’t want me anymore. I hurt him too deeply. I pushed him too far.

And now, he’s snapping the last connection between us.

The worst part? I don’t blame him.

Desperate to feel closer to Mav, even though it’s delusional, I move back into the brownstone.

I sleep in our bed, eat at our table, and wrap myself in Mav’s extra-large hoodies at night. I bring the cuffs of his sweatshirts to my nose and inhale deeply, breathing in his scent.

I miss him so much. It’s unbearable, thinking about him detoxing in rehab, and not knowing what he’s going through.

I confessed my deepest secret to him and leaned on him to help me through it.

But Mav shuns my help. He doesn’t want my support. He wants nothing to do with me.

I curl onto my side, pressing my ear into Maverick’s pillow, as a sob wracks through my limbs.

My phone beeps, and I glance at it, noting the message from Aiden.

Aiden

I’ll give you a call in 15 minutes.

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