Page 138 of Never Started
A part of me died that day as I watched the life drain from Maverick’s eyes. The part of my heart that will always be reserved for him—it’s his forever. He gave his life for me when he had every reason not to. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
Apparently, by the looks his family threw my way at his funeral two weeks ago, they’ll never forgive me either. I don’t blame them. I don’t deserve their forgiveness.
He should be here. None of this is right.
There’s a knock on the front door of my home, pulling me from my thoughts. I make my way to answer it, but before I can get there, I hear a key turn in the deadbolt, and the door flies open.
“We brought mimosas!” Dessa chirps, her joyful energy being exactly what I need.
Via steps behind her with a soft smile on her face.
My girls.
It hasn’t been easy. My life may be an unpredictable mess right now, but these two are my constants. They’re a safe place to land and have gotten me through the worst of it.
“By the look on your face, I’m not sure if you’re happier to see us or the mimosas, if I’m being honest,” Dessa teases.
“Definitely the mimosas,” I reply with a soft, forced grin, grabbing us each a glass out of the cabinet.
We spend the next few hours with a lot of silence passing between us as we watch tons of reality trash TV and down our drinks. Via, of course, sticks with just orange juice.
They aren’t pushing me or expecting me to do or say anything. They’re simply sitting with me through the darkness that has consumed me.
They know me better than I give them credit for.
If they came in here asking questions and expecting me to want the conversation, I’d probably kick them out at this point.
After the shooting, the questioning by the detectives quite literally drained the life out of me. Having to relive every detail… I don’t have much left to give.
This is what I needed. A day with my two best girls, where expectations are low and comfortable silence is acceptable.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of us, and I make no effort to reach for it. Instead, Via does for me.
“Do you want to know what this one says?” Via asks, her voice soft and calming.
“Nope.” I almost laugh—I did the same for her long ago when she first pushed Ander away. I guess it came full circle. Fucking great.
Dessa says carefully, “Iz... It’s been three weeks—”
“I have nothing to say to him,” I cut her off.
Dessa nods, and Via surprises me when she speaks up, saying, “I get it. He hurt you by keeping this from you. But he’s hurtingtoo, Iz. You know Jett. He’ll never forgive himself for this. He needs you.” She’s usually the one to take my shit and let me call the shots. So her suggestion truly catches me off guard.
Via’s eyes meet mine, and I see the genuine care there. She’s a fixer, and she wants to mend what’s broken.
Unfortunately, it’s beyond repair.
The possibility of that happening ended with Maverick's life.
I let out a sigh mixed with a long, slow exhale. ”I’m not ready to hear him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I thought I knew what I wanted for my life. After running from him for so long, I finally felt confident in giving him my heart... And now, this. I’ve been questioning what the point of life is.” Strangely, the admission feels liberating. “I’m stuck, like I want to run and escape it all, yet hide away at the same time.”
There’s a long moment of silence that stretches between us. After a while, Dessa speaks up first, “I think you need to bucket-list it.”
Via and I both flash her a look of confusion.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you need to do,” Dessa says, grabbing some paper out of the drawer in my coffee table.
“Dessa, what the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, confusion coated in every word.
