by Bijou Hunter
“Stop bugging him,” Heidi growled at her president during a recent meeting. “Axe is a scholar, not a dumb monkey dancing to your beat.”
“The kid isn’t a team player. Gotcha,” Colton replied immediately, never letting her bitchiness slow him down.
“Let’s focus on how Savannah got into Idyllwild,” Heidi muttered. “I thought they were hardcore about who was allowed to buy in town.”
“You listened to the recording Savannah made of her interview,” I said, standing at the window while they sat at the table. “She barely spoke. When asked questions directly, she asked for Bjorn’s opinion. She played that submissive shit perfectly. Those COC waffles never thought to check her out, and Bjorn comes with impeccable references. Plus, they’re two of the blondest, whitest, bright-teethed motherfuckers in the state. Of course, they let them move into their town.”
“Seems too easy.”
“Do those COC holes not like you?” Colton mocked Heidi.
“No, they don’t.”
“You need to be more submissive, then.”
“I’m going to cut off your face.”
“Allow me to offer you a little constructive criticism here, Heidi,” Colton said, smirking casually. “Your submissive attempt is terrible. Try to growl less. Maybe tuck your testes and try again.”
Heidi cracked her knuckles and muttered about what she planned to do to his testes.
“Hey, girl, you’re hot, but I’m a taken man,” Colton said, laughing at her anger.
“I also think,” I announced after realizing they would never shut up on their own, “that they were more likely to sell the house to Bjorn because it’ll need fixing up. The former owners were an old couple. From what I hear, the husband died, and they pushed out the wife when she couldn’t keep the lawn tidy.”
“Those COC holsters don’t mess around, huh?” Colton said, and Heidi snorted. “Picking on old ladies. Come on, who does that shit?”
“The COC does!” Heidi cried, and they both laughed.
Though I admittedly smiled at their fun, I won’t be happy until the Cosgrove family is broken with grief and Idyllwild submits to the Reapers.
“Soon, man,” Colton promised. “I’m waiting for the right moment. I’m an instinctive man while you’re a worrywart. Together, we’re unstoppable.”
“What the fuck am I in all this?” Heidi growled, angry again.
“You’re the brain.”
“What?”
“I’m the gut. You’re the brain. And he’s the... Wait, what would a worrywart be? Like the heart or something?”
That was when I ditched their conversation and returned to Violet. Every day, she gets more anxious about my parents’ visit. So far, Raven has avoided Violet as much as possible. But Mom and Dad will be bunked at the hotel for a week.
The day before they arrive, Violet remains edgy. We order Chinese for everyone to avoid going out in the stormy night. After dinner, Violet puts on her roller skates and practices with Avery around the main floor. Soon, I fold the tables and chairs in the meeting room to allow them to try different moves. Io finds me at the doorway, watching her mother and my love skating. Violet and Avery clasp their hands over each other’s forearms to build up speed in a circle.
“Mav,” Io says and touches my leg.
I lift her into my arms, marveling at how much calmer she is now with Pollux living at the hotel. Savannah also offers a second version of her mom to cuddle. Mostly, the child’s mood improves from having her cousin around. They’re like twins themselves, born only a month apart. Io doesn’t know how to exist without her other half.
Watching our favorite people, we admire their smiling faces. Violet’s suffered a few low points since the move. Times when she burst into tears and begged to see Shelby. I felt her pulling away during those moments. She blamed me for stealing her away from her mom. Deep inside, she knew she wasn’t thinking straight, but she missed Shelby to the point of losing control.
Only once have I woken to find her missing, hiding in a closet downstairs like she used to do in the woods. Violet told me the women O’Meara killed will never forgive her for smiling so much. I promised they were in a better place and didn’t blame her for being happy. I don’t know if she believed me. Violet just climbed into my arms and let me return to our room. She didn’t speak of her nightmare the next day, and I’m unsure she even remembers any of it happened.
Since then, I added a chime to the door like Avery and Savannah have for their hotel suites if the little ones somehow manage to escape. Violet never mentioned the security feature. Maybe she thinks it’s for the kids, or she understands how she’s the one I’m worried about. We don’t talk about upsetting shit unless we have to, and Violet now seems genuinely happy about living in Pema.
Just in case, though, Shelby is scheduled to visit the week after my parents. No reason not to plan for a complete clusterfuck.
THE GHOST
Maverick refuses to admit he’s worried about his parents’ upcoming visit. He hates showing any weakness. Even when I’m going bananas and crying about how I’m dead, he pretends he has everything under control. I know he isn’t that cold. I catch the flickers of worry in his green eyes when he thinks no one’s watching. I always see Maverick, even when he wants to be invisible.
The night before Vaughn and Raven arrive, Maverick pretends to be extra calm. I think he believes his relaxed demeanor will rub off on me. Instead, I bite my hands more. If he would just admit he’s worried and explain why, we’d be better off.
But I’m aware of how little people can really change. I’m trying to be more like the Majors women. Yet, there’s no denying my first instinct is to do what Violet Navarro would in any situation. That’s why I don’t hide my fears tonight like Avery might. I just bite hard on my hand and glare at Maverick.
“I think we’re playing this wrong,” he says and reaches across the small table to free my hand from its trap.
My teeth hold on to their plaything despite his attempts. I do glance away from his face to the chessboard on the table. We’ve recently begun playing, but Maverick is right. We’re playing more like checkers than chess.
“What if your parents told you to dump me?” I ask once he walks around behind me, slides his hands down my ticklish waist, and steals my hand when my mouth opens in surprise.
“I have thick winter gloves,” he says, leaning forward and speaking softly in my right ear. “I’ll have you wear them so you can bite without hurting yourself.”
“You just don’t want your mother seeing my gross hands,” I mutter angrily.
“You know that’s not it.”
“I don’t know anything,” I spit out.
Maverick is a terrible person. He really should let me vent at him, but he kisses my neck instead. How can I stay angry when he touches me so perfectly?
“Your mother hates me,” I say, sighing as he nibbles at my collarbone.
“No.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“True,” he whispers, kissing below my ear and winning a moan for his troubles. “But she doesn’t know you, either.”
“She doesn’t want to.”
“Well, that can only go on for so long,” he says, lifting me up and taking my seat. Once he rests me on his lap, Maverick returns to teasing my tender throat. “I’m never giving you up. If she wants to see me, she’ll have to see you. Sooner or later, she’ll get over her hang-ups.”
“She likes Max,” I murmur. “And Bjorn. I’m the problem.”
“I don’t think she was comfortable around Max, either. Not initially. That was before your time.”
“So, if I give you a few kids, will she like me?”
“That’s not it.”
“You don’t know,” I mumble, struggling to focus on anything other than his soft, demanding lips.
“I know she has particular ideas about what she hopes for her children and reacts coolly when those fantasies don’t come true.”
“I want to hate your mom because she hates me,” I say, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. “Tell me nice things about her, so I won’t view her as a threat or my enemy.”
“She carried me on her back even when she was tired.”
I lift my face and smirk at him. “How old were you? Like super little when it was easy to carry you, or were you a drunk teenager she dragged home from a party?”
Maverick grins. “I never get drunk enough for anyone to save.”
“Because you’re the hero and never the damsel in distress?”
“Sure.”
Stroking his jaw and loving the feel of his five o’clock shadow, I ask, “Did she get angry when you did badly on tests?”
“No. But that might have been because I was mostly homeschooled, and my failures reflected badly on her teaching skills.”
Stroking his lips with mine, I sigh. “Tell me something better than the ‘carrying on her back’ thing. Something that makes me see Raven rather than my mom.”
“When I said I was going with River to Shasta, she cried. His leaving didn’t make her cry, but I was younger, and she hadn’t been ready for me to leave yet. She claimed I wasn’t done growing, and she would miss more milestones.”
“Wait, how old were you?”
“Twenty-three.”
I study his face and smile. “She loves you so much.”
“Of course.”
“Well, she has seven other kids. Seems like she might have run out of love by the time she reached you.”
“Raven’s love reserve runs deep.”
“Do you think she could ever love me?”
Maverick’s expression softens. “Of course. She wasn’t sure what to make of Max, but they’re close now.”
“What’s wrong with Max?”
“She’s very anxious. Or, I guess, shy. You know how she can get wound up and start cooking even when there’s already plenty of food. My mom didn’t really get why River needed Max rather than someone more suited to our lifestyles. See, she views herself as strong and Dad’s life as rough. Perfect match. But her friends aren’t the same kind of strong, and their husbands are also Reapers. Mom just gets an idea in her head and lets it grow. Eventually, reality forces her to prune it back.”
“I want her to like me.”
Maverick kisses my cheek. “I know.”
“She liked Bjorn right away.”
“She thinks he’s a nerd.”
“What does she think I am?”
Maverick’s smile vanishes as he says, “A broken girl I’m incapable of fixing.”
“What if she’s right?”
“What if I don’t need you fixed?”
His words stir up a lifetime of hurt inside me. Even before O’Meara, I was never good enough. Only my grammy loved me without wishing I would improve.
Then, Shelby welcomed me into her heart. She’s very aware people can’t always fix their flaws. Erasing trauma isn’t like learning manners. Some scars never heal, as Dean says. I am loved in their family. Their friends accept I’m the permanent kind of fucked up.
But hearing Maverick admit he isn’t waiting for me to fix myself is a deeper sort of acceptance. Parents can love shitty kids, but Maverick has options. He doesn’t need to be with me, despite what he claims. I’m a choice he’s made, and I worried he had a running timer on when he expected me to be normal.
Now, I know he’ll love me even if this Violet is the best version he’ll ever know.
I hold his gaze and smile softly. My tears are just noise. I’m relieved by his words, and his mother’s disapproval no longer matters.
“I’m sorry I tried to eat my hands.”
“That’s why we need for you to wear those gloves,” he says, wrapping me in his arms and inhaling my scent. “Then, when you get hungry, you won’t hurt yourself.”
Smile wider now, I rest my face in the crook of his neck again. “You’re right that we were playing wrong. Can we try again later after you’ve been inside me?”
Maverick answers by standing with me cradled in his arms. I’m always impressed by how strong he is. Dean looks like a muscled beast, capable of carrying people around like we’re children. Maverick’s strength is leaner, easier to dismiss, but I think he prefers for people to overlook his fierceness.
When he fills my body, I try to focus on the emotions flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t reveal much. His chilly exterior isn’t something he can turn on and off. He isn’t choosing to be cold. It’s just him now, and I like how he hides. The world can be a violent, evil place. I don’t want it to know what Maverick’s up to.
But I do catch glimpses of his softer, more desperate emotions. The longing he feels for only me. His fear that I’ll relapse, and he’ll lose me. His worry over failing at some step in this new life and leaving us vulnerable. Maverick isn’t an open book, but I see enough to know he’s beautifully complex and fragile despite what he reveals to the world.
THE SENTINEL
My father loves riding his motorcycle. One time, when he needed to go to a second location down a short block from Cooper’s office, he jumped on his Harley rather than walk. In fact, he drove a few streets over and looped back just for kicks. The man loves to ride. But even he knows the weather is currently too shitty to drive from Ellsberg to Pema on a Harley.
Rather than arrive soaked, my parents are only mildly wet from their walk from the parking lot to the front door.
“Who is getting our shit?” Vaughn asks after Savannah ushers them inside. “I’ve decided I’m old and can’t do anything for myself.”
“How long will you be elderly, dear father?”
“Until I’m back in Ellsberg,” he says, hugging Savannah. “Or until a fight breaks out, and I need to practice my punching skills. Otherwise, I’m feeble and must be served.”
Raven ignores his old man babble and glances around the lobby. “This place is hideous.”
“We haven’t changed anything down here,” Avery says defensively.
“Gramma!” Io calls out as she runs from the lounge with Pollux and Violet following behind.
Mom stops frowning at the gaudy décor and picks up her granddaughter. Once Io is on one hip, she leans down to lift up Pollux. The kids nuzzle her chest, talking wildly in words that only mean something to people with a toddler decoder. I do know Io is saying Violet’s name a lot. I glance at my woman to find her gnawing at her hair. Our gazes meet, and she awakens from her worried funk. Smiling now, she joins me.
“I’ll get your crap. How much is there?” I ask my father, who keeps fucking with the hotel’s front bell.
“Two big bags and three smaller ones. Your mother has a lot of shit.”
Raven ignores him again. I think they’re fake-fighting, so they can loudly make up later. They love pulling that move in Shasta since River isn’t okay with his parents—who made eight kids—fucking.
“My mom’s vagina needs to be treated with more respect than the pounding they do,” he insisted the last time it happened.
When I head to the door, Violet offers to help. I consider telling her no. My first inclination is usually to coddle her. Yet, Violet’s capable of getting wet and carrying small bags.
“I thought you were bringing the younger ones,” Avery asks as Violet and I get our jackets.
“Sylvie fucked up her leg trying to kick Nevaeh’s ass. Denver decided to stay home to take care of her. Cavalry can’t function without the other two, so he bailed even though I suspect he doesn’t plan to take care of Sylvie.”
“She’s an adult. You’ve always babied her too much,” Avery insists despite being the kind of mother who would shit for her child if Io asked her to handle all bowel movements.
“Sylvie is fragile,” Raven says, and even I join in with laughing at her bullshit.
Then, Violet and I head into the pouring rain to retrieve my parents’ bags. As usual, I’m keenly aware of our surroundings, even noticing a man watching us from a table inside the cof
fee shop across the street.
Violet, though, is completely oblivious. She’s always more aware of her own movements than those of other people. Even before O’Meara’s training, Violet seemed self-conscious. The few pictures I’ve seen from her youth revealed an overly tense girl. Her smile seemed practiced, and her hands always perfectly poised, but her eyes gave away her anxiety.
The rain puddles shift Violet from self-conscious to childlike abandon. She stomps in one and laughs wildly. I imagine her wanting to get messy as a kid but always holding back to avoid angering her parents. Shelby encourages her adopted daughter to act wild when the urge hits her. So, right now, in the rainstorm, Violet actively searches for puddles.
Once we’re finished at my parents’ SUV, she smiles back at me while hurrying to the front door. I know she’ll drop one of the bags even before it slides free from her grip. When she’s in her kidlike mode, she loses all coordination. Rather than get upset when the bag bounces on the ground, she laughs again.
Her expression cracks me up. Instead of helping Violet with the bag, I watch her wrestle with it. She’s having a fucking ball outside, and there’s no reason to hurry inside. My parents’ suitcases will keep their shit dry while my woman has fun getting wet.
We’re soaked by the time we get back inside. My parents remain downstairs. At first, I’m not sure what the holdup is. Turns out Avery is trying to coax Io into letting my dad hold her. The girl sees Pollux in their grampa’s arms, but she’s more afraid for her cousin than interested in joining him.
The child’s tears stop mid-cry when she sees Violet all wet and dripping on the lobby floor. Wanting down from Avery’s arms, Io hurries over to get under the water dripping from her favorite babysitter’s jacket. Giggling now, Io looks back at Pollux, who also wants to check out the mess we’re making.
Once the kids ditch him, Vaughn throws up his arms. “I’m a pariah.”
“You whine too much,” Avery teases while hugging him. “Children don’t like weaklings. Try acting more butch around them.”