Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(60)

I say a quick prayer as I turn the key in the Mustang’s ignition. My baby gives me a good solid rev on the first try. The closer I get to her apartment, the tighter the nervous knots in my stomach become. I park, but sit in the car wringing my hands together for a good ten minutes, trying to build up the courage to move. I rehearsed what I was planning to say to Maia over and over again in my head on the plane. Nothing sounded right, everything sounded so f*cked up or desperate. What do I say? Sorry I left you, but I love you. Lame excuse. My mother always said the best conversations come from the heart and soul. So here goes nothing.

Whatever I had planned to say flies straight from my mind when Maia opens her door. She stands in front of me with a scrub brush in hand and bloody-looking gloves on. Our eyes meet, and I can’t say anything. I notice the red rims around hers, as if she’s been crying or not sleeping or both.

“Hi,” she says in a small, quiet voice.

What the f-uck happened, and why the f-uck wasn’t I where I should have been when it did? “Maia, what happened?” I say, distraught.

“Oh, this and that,” she says, her eyes welling up with tears.

I know the blood is not my fault, but maybe the tears are. “Should I go?” I ask weakly, trying hard not to spook her.

She shakes her head slowly, barely able to keep her composure, and moves aside for me to come in. I enter, and notice a large blood stain on the carpet in the hallway.

“Maia,” I say gently, cupping her face in my hands. “Whatever it is, whatever you need, I’ll make it okay, I promise.” She nods and collapses into my arms, sobbing. I hold her there for a long while. Letting her cry, holding her up. Supporting her.

I am so racked with guilt now, I can barely think straight. After peeling off the gloves, we sit on the sofa until she’s ready to talk. She tells me about her mother being in the hospital, her father in jail, and how everything went down. She tells me how supportive Blake has been, and I want to f-ucking punch him for trying to take my place, yet I also want to thank him for being there for her. My rage towards her father builds the more she talks, and with every passing word, my urge to kill him becomes stronger. For the sake of my own criminal record, I hope they lock him up for a very long time.

The guilt over my absence remains, eating away at me as we sit together. “How did you end up arrested?” she asks me, concerned.

I take a deep breath and tell her the entire truth. I tell her about Emmanuel, his threats, the robbery, the shooting. She doesn’t ask about the rest of my time in Atlanta, so I don’t mention it. And I feel like an * for it, but at this point I can’t afford to hurt her again. Not now.

“Do the doctors think your mother will recover?” I ask her softly.

“They don’t know,” she says, fiddling with the stitching on the couch. “I was so worried about you, about us, I forgot about everything else, Jackson, and look what happened.”

I take her hands and hold them resolutely. “You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s behavior, not your father’s, not mine, or anyone else’s. I would trade everything I own to take this away. If I had known…” my voice tapers off weakly.

“You couldn’t have known. No one could. I don’t blame you,” she says quietly.

“I do,” I say, looking at our hands. “Maia, nothing in my entire life has ever been worth fighting for, until I met you. I f-ucking need you so much that it hurts sometimes. Every day I grapple with the thought that I am really not good enough for you. But I don’t know how to be without you. There is no one on this earth that deserves you more, because there is no one that will ever love you more. I have to fight for us. Please tell me that I don’t have to let you go. I don’t know how to.” My voice comes out loud, desperate. “Nothing has to change if we don’t let it, Maia.” The last part is almost muted.

Her eyes stay locked with mine. She doesn’t say it. Neither do I. Things have already changed.

“Jackson,” she says quietly. “I want to go back to that first day at the Bean, the first day we kissed, and prevent everything else that’s happened since. It was perfect then. We were perfect. I’ve run away from everything difficult for so long, but nothing’s really perfect is it?” She gives me a sad smile.

“I can’t promise you perfect. I love you too much to lie to you or make false promises,” I say quietly. “I can promise you that I will f-ucking try, though.”

“Give me time,” Maia replies simply. “Can you just be here for me now without asking me to go back to us just yet? I made a promise, too. I promised myself that I would focus on my mother right now.”

“Whatever you need,” I say.

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“I really don’t want to be alone,” she continues. “Please stay with me tonight. I just…”

I smile. “Phew, I thought you were going to ask me for stain removal tips. I got nothing there.”

Maia throws her head back with laughter and whacks me in the shoulder. I cringe as she connects with my bullet wound, but manage to bite the inside of my cheek. Hearing her laugh is the sweetest melody. I haven’t heard it in so long, and there is no way I’m going to f-uck this up again. Maia falls asleep with her head resting in my lap, looking too peaceful to move. I’m happy to spend the night sleeping upright. As long as I’m here with her.