Crazy Good

by Rachel Robinson

  I yank on the sleeve of Morganna’s costume. “I need to get out of here. Can you take me home?” I ask.

  She looks up at Stone. “How much have you had to drink? Windsor wants to make a quick exit,” she explains. He shakes his head like she smacked him.

  “I don’t want an ass beating tonight. Plus, Mavvy’s the only sober one here. He’ll kill me if I bring her anywhere,” he admits. He grabs Morganna’s waist and pulls her to him and starts grinding on her. I swear they’re more like twenty-one year olds than married adults.

  Maverick is still busy with his admirers so I make my own freaking escape.

  “He’ll find you,” I hear Stone rumble over everything else.

  The vodka has numbed my pain, but it also makes me teeter in these sky-high heels. Somewhere inside me, I know I’m probably overreacting, that he’s just talking and that’s not a crime. The overwhelming sense that this thing with Maverick is only going to end badly forces my feet one in front of the other. His past is never going to change. My past is never going to change.

  I slam into another blond cop with fake boobs. It’s the same exact costume. Tears sting my eyes as her drink splashes down the front of my dress. Finding a side exit, I push my way out and take off my shoes. Clutching them in one hand, I run down the side of the building, the pavement cold on my feet. A security guard sees me and stops me. I grab his jacket.

  “I left in taxi. I went home,” I plead with him, nodding my head as I speak. “Please. The girl in the red dress got into a taxi and went home,” I say again.

  “You’re sure you don’t need help?” he asks. I shake my head. I must look wild, out of control, but he nods and walks off. I duck into a back alleyway just as my phone starts buzzing. Maverick. I ignore his call and text Gretchen to come get me. I hear rather than see when Maverick blazes out of the building. A loud bang resounds and a string of profanities travel to my hiding spot. His car revs to life only a few moments later.

  Gretchen the fairy and Benji the pirate pull up in her car fifteen minutes later. I rip off my devil horns.

  “Take me to Jess’s house for the night, please,” I command quietly the second I slip into the back seat. I adjust my position when my vagina burns in protest. Gretchen doesn’t ask or say anything. She just drives. She knows something went horribly wrong and the fact that she nearly dismembered my lady bits tonight gives me the trump card. She won’t even ask.

  I flip on the silent button on my cell, which has been blowing up non-stop with texts and calls from him.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. I’m sure she thinks I’m thanking her for rescuing me. I’m actually thanking her for more than that.

  Chapter Ten

  Windsor

  I had to shut off my phone. I also had to move from Jess’s house to Morganna’s on Sunday because Maverick found out where I was. Morganna would never, in a million years¸ rat out my hiding spot. Stone was too scared of Morganna to go against her wishes. Or so I thought. Gretchen brought me a suitcase full of everything I listed in a text, because I had to leave for my training trip today.

  “Take her suitcase for her, Phillipe,” Morg barks to her assistant. I’m dumbfounded at the early morning hour he arrived at their house. I haven’t slept well, so I was up drinking coffee and surfing the web on my iPad when he came in at the ridiculous hour of five a.m.

  “Sure,” Phillipe says, rolling my bag down the long, beautiful corridor that leads to their garage. We hid my car in there, at Stone’s suggestion. I also called the hotel early to request early check-in so I could leave here super early to try and avoid any contact with Maverick. Stone stops me in the hallway.

  “He knew you were here, Win. I can’t keep shit from him. He’s my brother. He stayed away because he knew it’s what you wanted. Please give him a break. This is all new to him. If you saw him when he found out you left…well it probably wouldn’t have been a good thing for you to see,” he says, pausing. “I’ve known him his entire life. I’ve never seen him struggle with anything…except with whatever this is he’s trying with you.” All I can do is close my eyes and try to keep the image of a heartbroken Maverick out of my mind.

  “The women. This life he’s cultivated. All of it. I’m not sure I can deal with it,” I tell him honestly.

  “Did you know he walked away from his entire family. All of them? They haven’t spoken since he made the decision to become a SEAL. They’re against everything Mav represents. It’s like he doesn’t even exist to them. Walking away from them was easy for him,” he says and my heart does break a little…for him.

  I can’t fathom a person who doesn’t respect his career path. I mean, the lifestyle might be a little much, but the profession? Serving and protecting America is the most prestigious and respectable job possible. A tear slips down my face. I know exactly what it feels like to be outcast from a family, but not for the same reasons.

  Stone interrupts my tormented thoughts. “But walking away from you is impossible for him,” he whispers.

  “Why me?” I ask. Morganna is already dressed to impress when she waves from the other side of the hallway. I give her a small wave and smile back. She yells at Phillipe to bring her something and she’s off to conquer the world.

  “Because you’re something he thought he’d never get. You’re someone he thinks he doesn’t deserve,” he says. And I think he’s lying, except the truth that shines in his brown eyes is blatant. He cares for Maverick a lot. “You can’t question everything. Sometimes a spade really is a fucking spade, Win.”

  “I want to believe you, I do. Because I don’t think I’ve ever been so completely had by someone who refuses to have me. It’s maddening. Can someone like Maverick really change? A tiger changing stripes and all that.” All the girls. His fan club will always be there waiting in the wings. Waiting for me to mess up so he can choose a good one for a hotel date.

  “Who said anything about stripes? He does have some badass fucking tats though,” Stone says, smiling wide. My returning smile is weak, there is no happiness behind it. “If you tell him I said anything, I’ll deny it. You’re doing exactly what he thought you’d do, except he hasn’t bagged you yet,” Stone says, retreating down the hallway. My head swims for a second and my brain scrambles.

  “He thinks I’ll leave him?” I ask, completely shocked. My stomach lurches. It’s normal for people to turn their backs on him. His own family did it. It makes perfect sense, but I don’t know if it changes how I feel.

  Stone looks over his shoulder as he continues to walk away. “What the fuck are you doing right now?” It looks like I’m running, but really I’m just thinking. Sorting. I’m recalculating my liabilities.

  I grab my suitcase and load it into the trunk blindly—not aware of anything except the new knowledge rolling around in my head. Everyone has a little bit of a messed up past. The challenges make you who you are, whether you end up good or bad is up to you. Maverick has a lot of good. And a lot of bad.

  During the entire drive to Richmond, and while I unpack my suitcase in my hotel room, and while I eat breakfast, I think about Maverick and the things Stone told me. Guilt hits me square in the chest. The problem is I’m not sure if I feel bad for leaving him at the bar that night without so much as a goodbye, or if I feel bad for teenaged Maverick who left his home to begin a life no one approved of.

  I’m dwelling somewhere in between self-loathing and pride when I hear a voice from my past. The voice. I feel like I may fall over. I have a cup of coffee in my hands. It shakes. I put it down on the table in front of me and turn around, trying to portray some semblance of confidence. I must be able to do at least that.

  “Nash,” I say. Nashhole almost came out instead. The sight of him makes my heart pound. Silly thing has no idea, he’s the same one who crushed it to bits.

  I glance over his shoulder and see Garrett smiling like the cat who caught the mouse. He did this. He scheduled us to attend this thing together. I shoot him a death glare. I knew he was p
issed off for the missed date, but this is bad form. Though a meeting was bound to happen sooner or later.

  “My, my, my, Winnie, time has been kind to you,” Nash says, checking me out, his eyes narrowed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.

  “At least something has been kind to me. How’s your girlfriend?” I ask. I really know nothing about him these days. I’m also surprised my words flow so freely. Granted, I’ve wanted to talk to him face to face for a long time, but never had the courage.

  An emotion flickers across his face. “We broke up,” he admits. That bitch must have broken his heart. I can’t even help it…I smile. I head to one of the conference tables and take a seat. Somehow I take solace in knowing Nash’s bimbo screwed him over. It makes it easier to be around him.

  Karma. Maybe it does work after all.

  He sits next to me. “What about you?”

  I know he’s asking if I have a boyfriend, and I really don’t want to take on that question so I respond vaguely, “I’m good. I’m really good. Happy,” I say.

  He scoots his chair closer. His proximity feels so comfortable, normal, but I’m also aware it’s not. It’s funny how the body reacts to familiarity. It’s been years, and I have no clue who this man is, but every fiber in my being wants him to engulf me in a hug and apologize for ruining everything. That’s the weak Windsor. I know that, but I can’t help feeling that way.

  Maverick pops into my mind. His face, his kindness, the way my body responds to his. The pull to Maverick is different than the pull to Nash. I have the urge to call Maverick right now. I want to apologize for being so flighty.

  “I miss you, Winnie. It’s been hard for me since Stacey left me,” he says. Oh, God. I dreamed about him saying those words for a year straight. I would have taken him back then. I would have forgiven him for everything and married the bastard. I was a lunatic back then.

  I shake my head and get up from my seat. I can’t hear this. I dumped many hours and a lot of money in my psychiatrist’s office because of this man. “No, Nash. You don’t get to say things like that to me. You cheated on me for a very long time,” I tell him through shaky breaths. I start to walk away, but he grabs my wrist and follows me. I have to get away. The tears come and I know I won’t be able to stop them.

  I enter the elevator and slam my finger on the number five at least ten times. “Come on, Winnie. I’m sorry. I am. I know now that Stacey is the kind of girl you date. You are the type of woman you marry. I should have married you. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid,” he says. His blue eyes are pleading. That look used to get him whatever he wanted from me. I want to hug him. I want to smack him. My heart wants to forgive him. I feel like I might choke on my own shallow breaths.

  “Why then? Why did you cheat?” I ask the question that tortures me the most. I hear the elevator ping and the door open. I get off, tears still pouring down my face. Nash follows me down the hall. I spin on him. “Why, Nash? You owe me the fucking truth!” I scream.

  The wave of depression I fought through slams me. Every horrible thought about myself floats around me, taunting me. How his cheating was my fault. How I was a horrible person. How I couldn’t keep one man. How I was destined to end up just like my miserable mother. It took a long time to realize I was normal and Nash was the fucked up one. It still didn’t make the black hole that swallowed me whole any smaller.

  He blows out a long breath and I know he’s about to say something horrible, but I don’t care. I need to hear it. I need to bury this in the ground so I can get over it, instead of burying it inside.

  He takes my hands in his. “I was bored, Winnie. It was always the same with you. You were too predictable. Life got boring. You never took any risks,” he says.

  There they are. The words I needed to hear, yet they are tearing me into two. I look down the hallway to the right, where my room is and see him—Maverick sitting on the floor in front of my door. He just looks at me, searching my face for something. Nash is oblivious that anyone else is present. I pray Maverick didn’t just hear Nash’s words, like maybe he’ll think that’s the person I really am.

  “Take a risk, Winnie. Come back to me,” Nash whispers. I turn and look at the man who ruined my life, even though I can barely see him through my flooded eyes.

  I decide to do something he’d never expect from me, because I know…I just know I have back up. Even if I ran away from him, even if I abandoned him and thought the very worst of him, I know Maverick cares.

  So, I rear my hand back and smack Johnny Nash’s freaking face so hard that my palm burns like a million bees just stung me. I’ve never felt a better feeling. That was what I needed while I was lying in bed, pondering the worth of my life. I don’t need Nash. I don’t need anyone. I want someone, and it’s not the man who cheated and lied to me.

  Like I suspected, Maverick is by my side quicker than seems humanly possible. He has Johnny by his collar, pinned up against the wall. His feet dangle off the ground like a little child. The sight actually calms me. Nothing about Maverick is calm. He is a ball of fury, anger probably directed at both Nash and I. His breathing is harsh and the muscles in his tattooed forearms bunch. It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from killing Johnny on the spot. A button pops off Johnny’s freshly pressed shirt. Maverick wears a stretched out black t-shirt and jeans. The difference between them is great. A stranger looking on would think good and bad. Except they’d pin the wrong guy as bad, I’m sure of it.

  “What the fuck, Winnie? Who the hell is this guy?” Nash asks, his face turning a bright shade of red.

  Maverick doesn’t speak. He just looks at me, like he wants to know what I’ll say just as much as the Nashhole. It breaks my heart even further. His hazel eyes are glistening. He is enraged to the point that every emotion is blistering to the surface. And I’m the one who did this to him.

  Without looking away from Maverick’s gaze I say, “He’s a risk worth taking.” I speak just loud enough for both of them to hear.

  Maverick lets Nash’s feet touch the floor. He closes his eyes, trying to reign in whatever it is that affects him so greatly. One deep breath later, he’s back.

  “Meet Nashhole, Maverick,” I say, when he looks at me grinning the mean spirited, scary as hell smile.

  Nashhole clears his throat. “You’re here to kill me? Aren’t you?” Maverick, who has yet to release him, turns that same look on him.

  “No, even though I think it would be therapeutic for me at the moment,” Maverick says.

  Johnny whimpers a little. “Winnie…” he whines.

  “Don’t say her fucking name one more time,” Maverick growls. Speaking directly to me for the first time, he says, “What do you want me to do with him, Win?”

  The instinct to protect the foul human that once held my heart in his hands appears, but I shove it back down and remind it how insane I was for a long time. The Nashhole looks at me with a crazed look in his eyes. He thinks I’ll order his death or something. The prick obviously never knew me—not even one bit. The whole thing is so sad.

  “Hit him for me,” I command. There’s no inflection in my tone and it scares me.

  Maverick punches once. Once is all it takes, and it looks like he held back. Actually I’m sure he did. Bones crunch and blood trickles down from his nose and lips. Johnny slinks to the floor holding his face in his hands. I’ve never seen him that low. He was on a pedestal so high, for so long, that it’s like I’m looking at someone else. The sight flips my stomach and shatters my heart, but then I glance at Maverick and he’s staring at me, looking for my approval. He doesn’t give a shit about anything else, just how I feel. If only the simple, bloody one treated me the same way.

  I walk over to my hotel door. I hear Maverick actually helping the Nashhole up, uttering heated words under his breath. Threatening I’m sure. Johnny scurries down the hall like a beaten dog. I don’t turn around, but I know he’s there. My skin prickles with awar
eness, like it always does when he’s close.

  “Thank you,” I whisper softly. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t say exactly what I’m sorry for because it’s supposed to encompass so many things, including the things I’m not supposed to know about. I slide my key into the door and walk through. I hold it open for him. He doesn’t stop looking at me, my face—trying to read what’s in my head. “Come in,” I say, though it sounds more like a question.

  He hesitates a few more seconds, but must come to a conclusion with his case study because he strides in. He stops in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, his back facing me. The sun hits at the perfect angle, silhouetting him —like an avenging angel or something equally as impressive.

  “What did I do, Win? You just left. You were supposed to come to my house. If it was too much, too soon, you should have told me. I’d never pressure you to do anything you didn’t want to do. That’s it, right? That has to be it.”

  He has no clue why I left. Even more guilt comes up, twisting my stomach into knots. All weekend he thought I ran because I was scared of sex…or of furthering our relationship. I shake my head, even though he can’t see it.

  “I don’t know if I can handle your past. Seeing you with all of the women reminded me of the person you are,” I say quietly.

  “Was. The person I was,” he says a little more loudly. He turns and faces me. He freezes me to the spot with his accusatory glare. “I can’t change my past, Windsor. Trust me, I would if I could, because it obviously is an issue for you. I move forward.” He points at the door behind me. “You can’t change your past either. You move forward. You trust again.”

  I fold my arms around my stomach to hold myself together. “It will kill me,” I whisper. “I can’t go through that again.”

  I’m engulfed in his warm arms in the next breath. I sigh, relaxing for the first time in days. He smells so incredible. He feels so perfect. His words hit the right spot in my heart. He sighs, leans his head down, and inhales deeply.