Page 22 of Wild Love
She lets out a breath and nods. “It is pretty uncomfortable.”
“The worst,” I admit. “But I dig it. My parents were all whites and grays. I like color.”
She squeezes my fingers. “How come you don’t have any colorful tattoos?”
I scan my arm. I’d never thought about it before. “I guess I’m whites and grays too.”
“Oh no.” She smiles. “You are a pink couch. Not quite right, but all about making people happy.”
Chuckling, I move my hand. “Jerry seems nice.”
“Nice? Really.”
“Okay, he seems like a hard-ass, but he loves you, that much I got.”
“He loved my mom so much. Even if I were a holy terror, because let’s be honest, there were some rough high school years when I was awful, he’d still love me if only because I’m her daughter. She was going through chemo when they met. Can you imagine the kind of love that takes? He had no idea if she’d get better.”
“But she did.”
“Yeah.” Dakota nods. “They had ten amazing years, and I guess that’s more than most people get.”
Dakota grabs two more beers, and we eventually move to sitting in front of the couch. It’s a real bad sign for a piece of furniture when you’d rather sit on the floor than on it, but I’m having a great time.
She rests an elbow on the pink couch and angles toward me. “Tell me about your parents.”
“We’re not close. They were busy building the company when I was a kid. But they gave me a lot.”
“I saw your dad at the Frozen Four celebration party. He seemed proud of you.”
A laugh breaks free. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. He is proud in his own way, but I don’t think he’s ever said the word.”
“He should. You’ve done some amazing things. Were they disappointed that you were quitting college to sign with the Wildcats?”
“Nah, they were all about it.” I shrug. “I was never going to be anything but a hockey player.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Johnny Maverick. I think you could be anything you want.”
8
Dakota
He linesup the empty beer bottles between us. Upstairs is quiet. Dad must have gone to bed. It feels good to be home. Not a lot has changed in the three years since I moved away to college, but the basement feels smaller with Maverick in it.
He has that way about him, filling up space. Not just physically because he’s a big guy, but his personality is even bigger.
The conversation has bounced from every topic imaginable—from my mom to all the horrifying things guys have said to me on dating apps.
“No way. He didn’t say that.” Mav throws his head back and laughs.
“He did. I would prove it to you, but I deleted the app. I asked him where his favorite place he’d visited was, and he said, the womb. Like, what do I do with that? How do you ever make a guy like that happy? I can’t give that to him. Is he going to have some weird obsession with mywombwhen I get pregnant? So many questions.”
“Again, this is why I don’t do online dating.”
“You do have a certain charm that might be misunderstood via text.”
“Right?” He laughs and stretches out a long leg in front of him.
Charli is snoring at his side, and he absently runs a hand along her back.
