Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
He answers on the second ring. “I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that you’re calling me.” His words are heavy and a little slow.
“I felt a call would be better than a text, all things considered.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re married? Why lie?”
I sigh. Sophia would probably tell me to hang up. But Maverick deserves an explanation. “We’ve been separated for more than a year. He’s refusing to sign the divorce papers. I’m not married to him willingly anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. He’s holding me hostage by withholding his signature.” I close my eyes. “I have office hours first thing tomorrow morning. Why don’t you meet me there and we can talk? I think this is a better discussion in person.”
“I have a morning skate at six thirty. I’ll be there for about an hour.”
“I’ll be in my office before eight.”
“You sure you want me to come to your office for this conversation?”
“Gabriel is being difficult and unpredictable. So yes, my office is best.”
“Are you safe there?”
“I’m safe.”
“Okay. If that changes, I’m a phone call away.”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He ends the call with a quiet click.
I’m already in so deep, I don’t know if there’s a way to dig myself out of this hole anymore.
Eighteen
The Last Straw
Maverick
I wake up with a splitting headache. I remember the Uber ride home and sending a text message, and I have a very vague memory of a phone call.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and check my recent messages. I sent one at eleven thirty last night, and not long after, I received a phone call from the same number. I think I’m supposed to meet Clover at her office.
Drunk texting is never a good idea.
I drag my ass out of bed and get ready for morning skate. I’d back out, but I could use the extra ice time, even though I feel like a bag of shit, and I don’t play much better. At least it’s just a few guys looking to run drills. Kody asks if I want to grab breakfast with him, but I make up an excuse and tell him I’ll catch up with him later, like we planned.
I head directly to the English building and take the elevator to Clover’s office. Her door is ajar, and she’s already at her computer. It looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was here. But everything was different then—the boundaries hadn’t shifted yet. The cranes I’ve left in class are now sitting on the windowsill. I don’t want to read into that, but it’s hard not to.
Her hair is down, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing black pants and a long, tunic-style shirt, topped with a pink cardigan. She looks gorgeous. And tired.
I knock on the door, my stomach in knots.
“Come in.” She rolls her chair back as I step into her office.
“Morning, Professor.” I’m on the fence as to whether it’s a good one or not.
“Why don’t you close the door and have a seat?” She motions to the chair beside her desk.
I do as she asks, glad I left my backpack in my truck so I feel less like her student and more like her equal. “I’m going to be totally honest and let you know my memory of last night’s call is pretty foggy.” I grab a tissue from the box on her desk and start folding it even though it’s not great for origami. “Did I do or say anything I shouldn’t have?”
“No.” She shakes her head, and her gaze shifts to the side. “Why is your memory foggy?”
“I might have had a few drinks.” I tap the arm of the chair. “Did you say anything you shouldn’t have?”
She circles the rim of her coffee cup with a single finger, her focus there. “I called you, and I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Because I’m still your student.”
“Yes.”
I don’t think it’s worth pointing out that I won’t be for much longer. It’s a sticking point with Clover, and while I’d like it to be different, I get why it’s not. “I probably asked this last night, but as a refresher, why weren’t you honest about your ex not actually being your ex?”
She folds her hands in her lap, and her bottom lip slides through her teeth. “I’m waiting for him to sign the divorce papers. We haven’t been a couple for almost a year and a half, so I don’t consider us together, or married, even though he does.”
“Is he someone I should be worried about?”
“In what sense do you mean?”
“He was at your place yesterday morning and again in the evening. I saw his car when we drove by on the way home from my game last night—not on purpose either.” At least that time. I set the finished crane on the side table and grip the armrests. “And I’m sorry I ran by yesterday. I was on autopilot and not thinking about the route I was taking, not consciously anyway.”