My phone lay dormant on the bedside table. No more texts or calls from Mav.
“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand through my matted hair, a sinking feeling in my gut. Had he been caught up in something serious? An emergency I’d abandoned him in the middle of? Maybe I should’ve texted him back.
I tried to shake off the guilt that crept up like ivy, wrapping tight around my conscience. It was hard not to imagine him hurt, or worse, because of my impulsive escape to numbness.
Focus,I told myself, trying to corral my spiraling thoughts. But it was like trying to hold water in my hands—impossible.
Turning on the TV, I lay there like a zombie. Just existing… barely.
At some point, when the sun started to go down, I stumbled over to the mini bar again, the clink of bottles familiar.One more drink,I promised myself,just one more. He still wasn’t here to stop me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop myself.
My fingers fumbled with the cap, the contents of the tiny bottle sloshing as I brought it to my lips. The burn was less shocking now. And I welcomed it, welcomed the haze that settled over my mind.
Is this how Callie felt every time she drowned her sorrows in the bottom of a bottle? Because, fuck, did I understand it now.
“Where are you, Mav?” As if the question could summon him. I snatched my phone, thumbs scrambling to form a garbled mess of letters and misplaced punctuation.
“Whr r u? Needd you…” I managed to type, the words jumbling together in a digital cry for help.
“Come get meeee. Sstubborn ass,” I added, with a strange mix of desperation and challenge. Yet I never pressed send, because if he really loved me, if he really wanted me, he’d come to get me.
The room spun again, and I let the darkness take me, because what else would I do? The phone slipped from my hand and thudded on the carpeted floor.
***
The morning of the third day dawned like a verdict, and with it, the inescapable truth that pressed down on me: Maverick wasn’t coming. I lay there, tangled in sheets that reeked of cheap liquor, my chest aching as if every shallow breath was an apology I couldn’t utter.
Maybe he was done with my bullshit—the push and pull, the stupid dance of my insecurities that I could never escape. Abitter laugh escaped me. I was a mess, a walking disaster in jeans and smeared mascara. I knew this would happen. Even someone as dark and fucked up as me would eventually grow tired of my miserable bullshit.
What was the fucking point?
I curled tighter into myself, knees to chest, trying to make myself small enough to disappear from the crushing weight of what I might’ve lost—the best damn thing to ever happen to me. My eyes spilled traitorous tears that soaked into the pillow.
Then, without warning, the door creaked open, spilling light across the room. It was the first sound I’d heard in this room aside from my own fumbling about. Callie stood there, still radiant in her newlywed glow.
“Jesus, Soph,” she breathed, taking in the sight of me, the wreckage of a woman who once prided herself on being unbreakable.
“Hey,” I managed, the word barely more than a broken whisper, a desperate attempt to sound casual. But shame and guilt clawed at me—she’d left Liam to find me here wallowing in self-pity. I didn’t even question how she found me, how she got in here, even though she probably just flashed her badge at the concierge.
She didn’t hesitate, moving toward the bed with slow, unhurried steps, then climbing in. She pulled me back against her body, a spooning embrace that felt like coming home. I shattered, sobs wracking my body as I clung to her like a lifeline.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Callie murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “Let it out.”
And I did. Everything poured forth—a deluge of confessions about the criminal life I’d been entangled with, the corruption that had seeped into the very marrow of my life. Who Maverick was, what we’d been through. The admissions of my family. Everything.
“Do you hate me now?” I choked out, fearing the loss of the one constant in my life.
“No, Soph,” she said firmly, her hold never wavering. “I get it—it’s not all black and white. Law enforcement fucks up. We’re all corrupted in our own way. None of us are perfect. Liam and I, we know love isn’t about perfection. It’s about seeing the fucked-up parts and loving them anyway.”
I took a deep breath, letting it chase away the suffocating fear. Callie didn’t hate me; she understood. And in that understanding, I found a fragment of peace.
“Thank you,” I whispered, voice raw, feeling a sliver of something that might’ve resembled hope. With her there, holding me together, maybe I could face whatever came next. Maybe.
She squeezed me. “I love you, Soph. I’ve told you before: I’ve seen your transgressions. I’m sure there’s more beneath the surface. But thinking I’d hate you? That’s insane. Being morally gray may not be lawful, but it’s not like I’m going to arrest the two of you. God knows I’ve had enough of my own issues with people following all the rules.”
I huffed out a shell of a laugh.
“Cal,” I started, the words scraping out of my throat like shards of glass. “I-I can’t stay a cop. Not after everything.” The silence in the room grew heavy, oppressive, as if it was waiting for me to drop the next bomb. “I want to move back here to New York. Start over with Maverick. Be closer to you.”
