Page 35 of Just One Look
“I do not,” I snap. “And stop calling me that. You know that’s one of my least favorite nicknames.”
“One of?” Pip’s eyes light up. “There are more?”
Verity cackles evilly. “Oh, thereare.”
As my sisters gleefully bombard Pip with all the awful nicknames they’ve come up with for me over the years, I block them out and cast my mind back to that moment with Maverick several days ago, where we almost kissed.
In a way, I’m glad Clancy interrupted us. I didn’t miss the way Maverick’s eyes lit up when I told him I needed to keep boundaries in place around him. And that’s not fair to him. I may have foul moods and not be the world’s cheeriest guy, but I’m never downright mean or cruel. I don’t want to give Maverick false hope that there could be something between us.
Because there can’t be.
So I guess it’s good that we didn’t kiss because at least we don’t know what we’re missing.
I have to focus on myself, my health, and on telling my family about what’s going on with me. And right now, I just want to relax and try to enjoy the last few peaceful, normal moments we have left before I detonate that massive bomb.
Try as I might, I just can’t seem to settle, the knot in my stomach only growing stronger. I thought it would be better to tell everyone after we’d eaten since I didn’t want to do it on an empty stomach, but I’ve barely touched my food.
Teasing me might be Sib and Verity’s favorite pastime, but I love them both so much. I don’t remember a lot about the time Dad died or Mom leaving a few months later, but things got really messed up. I was too young to be privy to all the details of what was going on, but I caught the gist of it. Bottom line, Dad was gone forever. And so was Mom. All I had left were my sisters and Clancy, who took us into his home and raised us like we were his own kids.
“All right. Does anyone want seconds?” Clancy claps his hands together. “Or, in Pip’s case, fourths? There’s still plenty of food lef?—”
He’s cut off by a loud knock at the door.
“I’ll get it. You expecting anyone?” I ask Clancy as I step past him.
“No. We’re all here.”
I make my way inside and swing open the front door, blinking rapidly a few times. “Maverick. What are you doing here?”
In a short-sleeved, red-and-white striped polo and dark-wash jeans, he looks both casual and stylish at the same time. His chestnut hair is swept back from his forehead, artfully tousled, and his ocean-blue eyes settle on me with quiet concern.
“I just wanted to bring you this,” he says.
I hadn’t even noticed the glossy-white ceramic tureen he’s holding. “What’s that?”
“I made some chicken soup for you and Clancy yesterday. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” He nods toward the three cars lined up in the driveway.
“You’re not interrupting at all,” Clancy says, greeting him with a warm smile. “And how considerate of you. Right, Jackson?”
The old guy elbows me. I frown at him before shifting my gaze back to Maverick. “Yeah. Very considerate,” I say slowly.
Don’t get me wrong, it is genuinely a lovely, thoughtful gesture. It’s just that the timing couldn’t be worse. I’m ingetting ready to deliver some bad news to my familymode, so Maverick showing up like this is really messing with me.
Maverick hands Clancy the container and asks, “How are you feeling?”
“I went through a rough patch these past few days, but thankfully, I had this one here to help me get through all the, you know…”
“Yeah. I know,” Maverick says, his eyes flicking to me briefly, and I can tell he needs the visual reminder of what he endured with me like a kick to the balls.
“But I’m much better now. Thank you.”
Clancy elbows me again, and I scowl at him. “Ow. Why do you keep doing that?”
“Because it’s more socially acceptable than smacking you across the back of your head. Manners, boy.”
I grit my teeth and mutter, “Thank you, Maverick.”
Maverick grins boyishly, which only unsettles me even more because I don’t want to be noticing how cute he’s looking right now. It’s bad enough he’s being nice. And Jesus, he has dimples. How did I not notice that before?
