Page 107 of Built for Mercy

Maverick had been next to silent since last night. It made me nervous, the pensive look on his face and his seemingly permanent frown.

But he wasn’t pushing me away. In fact, he was more affectionate than usual, small touches here and there.

Part of me was afraid I’d overstepped. First with his parents, then with the mention of marriage, then upstairs in that room…

While I was arranging a breakfast charcuterie board with fruit, waffles, and bacon, he slipped onto a barstool and eyed me with curiosity. I paused, meeting his gaze.

“Hi,” I said.

He gave me a small smile. “Hi. What is this?”

“Breakfast. We both need to eat.”

His smile grew into a grin. “I’ve never seen it displayed this way.”

“It’s called a charcuterie board, Mav. They’re all the rage these days.”

“Says who?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Says the internet. Do you use your phone for anything besides work?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

Snickering, I paused in my arranging to pick my phone up and go to TikTok, then handed it to him so he could scroll through some of the videos.

“These are really elaborate,” he said, looking amused. “How have I never seen them before?”

“Probably because you’ve been fending for yourself for so long. You haven’t really allowed yourself the time to stop and enjoy life. You’ve been all work and no play.”

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, handing my phone back. His tone was playful, but there was a somber look in his eyes again.

“You’re deflecting. Do you want to talk about it?” I finished the charcuterie board and set it on the breakfast bar.

“I don’t know.” He frowned, and I hated the troubled look on his face.

“We don’t have to.” I poured him a cup of coffee. Wednesday decided to jump up on the counter and nuzzle my hand. I picked her up, stroking her ears before kissing her head, then carried her over to her cat tree and gave her a few treats. Maverick watched us, sipping his coffee. I let him sit in his thoughts, knowing he’d talk to me when he was ready.

When I returned to his side, I placed our plates in front of us so we could grab from the board, but Maverick’s brows furrowed as if he was battling an internal struggle. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and spoke.

“I’ve been a mess inside my head, and I don’t know how to deal with it,” he admitted, his voice laced with a vulnerability that was both unsettling and endearing.

I perched on the barstool next to him, placing my hand on his knee for reassurance. “You don’t have to go through it by yourself, Maverick.”

He glanced down at my hand on his knee, then back up at me with a mixture of gratitude and longing in his eyes. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

I snickered. “Maybe you just need someone who sees the good in you even on your darkest days.”

His lips twitched into a half smile at my words. “I just… wasn’t expecting to feel the way I do about my parents. I’ve despised them for so long, but knowing without a doubt how they really feel about me is—I don’t know, heart-wrenching, I guess?”

“Understandably so.”

He sighed again and raked a hand through his hair.

“So what do you want to do?” I asked, pouring syrup over my waffles and cutting a piece before plopping it in my mouth.

Maverick stayed quiet for a few moments, looking pensive again as he also ate. “Well, first of all, we need to take care of Chavez sooner rather than later.”

I nodded, crunching on bacon, as if discussing killing someone over breakfast was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m ready whenever you are, but I think there’s something we need to do before that.”