Chapter 27

“Lucky.” Maverick opened his door and immediately hugged her. She’d driven to his apartment for the first time so they could all ride to his parents’ house together. “I swear this has felt like the longest week of my life.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” The feel of his body pressed against hers was as exquisite as she remembered. He was lean, but not naturally so. She knew he worked out regularly to help keep his “anxious levels” down—his exact words. There was almost no give to his chest, all hard lines and shapely muscles. And yet, somehow, she relaxed against him as if he had the softest, most malleable body in existence. How could a simple hug be so comforting? He made her feel like they fit together perfectly without even trying.

He pulled back, examining her face. “Mmm, glasses.”

“Better safe than sorry. I’ll take them off inside,” she promised, even though it wasn’t the best idea. Her eyes had taken on a semi-permanent red tint from crying too much and not enough sleep. Progress required sacrifice and she was making headway with Hennessee House, one long night at a time. He closed the door behind them.

“You look tired.” She poked him in the side.

“I haven’t been sleeping well. I was in the middle of a power nap just now—I feel like I’m still asleep,” he said. “I was dreaming about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m a little…stressed. Lately, real life has been infiltrating my dreams and causing me all kinds of trouble.”

“Dreams but not nightmares,” she challenged. “Must’ve been a good kind of trouble.”

Maverick took a long, lingering glance at her. From head to toe and back again, stopping at her eyes. “It was.” He wrapped her up in another hug. “I missed you.”

“Why?” she joked.

“Why did I miss you?” he asked, playing along. “Because I want you here. I wish I could be there. I can’t have what I want so missing you is all that’s left.”

“Booooo! Tomato, tomato! Booooo!” Georgia laughed as she rounded the corner with Rebel. “I didn’t know you had that level of cheese in you, Super Dad.” She made a show of prying them apart to give Lucky a hug too.

“Hi, Georgia.”

“Don’t you miss me? You haven’t texted, which is so rude. A whole weekend together and not a single follow-up message. I’m hurt.”

“I don’t think I have your phone number?”

“That’s both beside the point and exactly what I’m talking about.”

Lucky nodded, giving her an apologetic smile. She understood what Georgia meant. Friendship, like all relationships, required intention. More often than not, it wasn’t effortless. It’d never been that way for her, and she didn’t expect it to be now. She’d just been suffering busy. Between Hennessee House and Maverick, everything else felt like it had to be shoved to the side. Which felt wrong.

“I have her number,” Rebel said to Lucky. “I’ll give it to you.”

“Shall we, ladies?” Maverick laughed, gesturing them toward the door.

“Dad, Beanie said they’re bringing Sophie.”

“Your uncle Max isn’t bringing that puppy.” He locked the door.

“Yes, he is!” Rebel said. “I’ll bet you five dollars.”

“Do you have five dollars? It can’t be like last time when you lost and said the money was already in my wallet and that you were just giving it back to me before I gave it to you anyway.”

Georgia shrieked with laughter. “That is genius. I’m stealing that.”

Maverick glared. “Please don’t encourage her.”

“Grandma is giving me birthday money,” Rebel said confidently. “I’ll use that.”

Within seconds of arriving at the Phillipses’ family home, Georgia seamlessly blended into the crowd, greeting everyone by name and giving out hugs. Rebel ran directly to the backyard, disappearing into a small group of kids.

“Her cousins. She’s the oldest and their ringleader,” Maverick whispered to Lucky. He told her their names, ages, and which of his siblings they belonged to. “Freddie, my youngest brother, might not be here yet.”

“Does he have kids too?”

He shook his head. “He got married a few months ago. I think they’re still deciding but leaning toward no.”

They followed Rebel into the backyard but headed straight for the dark-skinned man wearing a cream button-up shirt and manning the impressively sized grill—Maverick’s dad.

Lucky asked to see pictures of Maverick’s parents and siblings beforehand to memorize their faces. He told her his parents didn’t tolerate being addressed by their first names or without an honorific by anyone younger than them, something she inherently knew. Her family had the same rules.

Mr. Charles Phillips, Charlie to his friends, was taller than Maverick with a bald head and a face just beginning to wrinkle. He had trickster eyes and a good-humored smile—features belonging to a man who’d fallen headlong into dad jokes and never looked back. “You’re late, knucklehead. This her?”

“It is.” Maverick sighed. “Lucky, this is my dad.”

“Hi, Mr. Phillips.” Sounding shyer than she preferred, she added, “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Lovely? Well, all right. I’ll take that.” He turned to Maverick, still smiling. “Your mama’s inside. Better hurry up before she realizes you didn’t introduce her first.” He winked at Lucky.

“You were closer.” Maverick shrugged.

They found his mom in the dining room deeply embroiled in an intense conversation with four other women—three Lucky didn’t recognize, and one she did. While the group wasn’t yelling exactly, they were exceedingly loud. Indoor voices need not apply kind of loud. But when Maverick announced their arrival with a subdued “Hey,” it was like all the sound was snatched from the room. Pin-drop quiet in an instant.

Lucky felt them staring at her, itching under her skin and begging to be read. This was why she never went to parties anymore. She wanted it to be a good, happy day, but wow. Things were off to a rough start for her.

Everyone in the group had similar features, perks of a strong gene pool, but different senses of style. Track suits, sundresses, jeans and blouses, nothing in common other than the color. They all wore a shade of cream, same as his dad.

Maverick was also wearing a cream-colored sweater and dark jeans. And Rebel looked adorable in her cream-and-brown polka-dot dress. Matching pajamas on Christmas must have been a year-round affair. Any holiday, any party, anytime.

“Everyone, this is Lucky, Lucky, this is everyone. Okay, that’s done, we’ll be elsewhere, see you later.”

Lucky followed Maverick’s lead as he abruptly turned around, attempting to whisk her away.

“Aht, aht! Get back here.” Mrs. Beverly Phillips, in the tracksuit, playfully swatted him on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Fight or flight kicked in.”

“Don’t start with me.” Her patient face nearly frowned but smoothed into the friendliest, most welcoming smile as she turned to Lucky. “I’ve heard so much about you. Let me get a good look at you.” She deftly pushed Maverick out of the way, stepping into his place and taking Lucky’s hands. She held their arms out wide, assessing her up and down.

Mrs. Phillips took pride in her appearance. The fitted athleisure tracksuit somehow didn’t clash with the matching jewelry set she wore—earrings, necklace, bracelet, and ring—or the soft makeup with dramatic eyelashes and blushing lipstick. The muted tones of her perfume settled nicely around her.

No other surface emotions seeped through.

Unsure what to do, Lucky became a mannequin, mirroring her movements. Was this normal? Mr. Phillips had barely glanced at her. Maybe Mrs. Phillips was in charge. Her word determined whether Lucky would be accepted by the family at large.

Maverick caught the exact moment she looked his way for reassurance. Roll with it, he mouthed.

Finally, Mrs. Phillips said, “Maverick, what is this?”

“What?”

What?Lucky’s stomach dropped.

“What is she wearing? Family wears cream and one accent color. I’m assuming you didn’t tell her.”

“Didn’t want to scare her off,” he confirmed.

“Well, now it’s going to throw off all of the pictures.”

She…she’d get to be in the pictures?

“Should’ve known. I’ll take her up.” Maverick’s youngest sister, Silvia, walked into the dining room and headed straight for Lucky. She exuded a bored, sleepy energy. Even her voice sounded relaxed, slightly muffled and unaffected. She had naturally downturned eyes with dark circles but otherwise was very much identifiable as a Phillips.

“Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. You’re in good hands now,” Mrs. Phillips said.

Lucky rolled with it like he asked her to, following Silvia upstairs to a good-sized bedroom with a walk-in closet. The bed had been neatly made with decorative pillows and a throw blanket at the bottom. Nothing seemed out of place or dusty. There were even vacuum pattern lines in the carpet.

“What size are you?” Silvia asked.

Lucky told her. “Do I really have to change?”

“You don’t have to, no, but it would make my mom happy. What do you want to do?”

“I…don’t know.”

Normally, Lucky would’ve thrown herself into the role, being the best and brightest girlfriend, winning over his entire family one observant joke and practiced dizzying smile at a time. But communing with Hennessee’s specters to gain access to the house itself had been sucking the life out of her. She’d built herself up to be charming, and now passing for pleasant felt brutal.

This was a big deal for Maverick. She wanted his family to like her, but she only had the capacity to be herself. And her real self was…sad.

Sad because it’d only been fifteen minutes and she could imagine the road ahead. Spending time with a loving family, who enjoyed being together, used endearing nicknames, threw parties, and took color-coordinated pictures. Maverick invited her into his world, and she didn’t have a single equivalent thing to share in return.

Just sad and sorry and obsessively thinking about her estranged family.

Lucky took off her glasses.

Silvia was filled with an authentic kindness that ran so deep the sheer power of her compassion overwhelmed her. She cried easily. Her feelings bruised regularly. Profoundly sensitive and loving, she protected herself with a cloak of ambivalence.

Silvia smirked. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take your glasses off. Maverick made us swear to not ask you about them because you were going to wear them all day.”

She nodded. “That’s usually true. Did he tell you why I wear them?”

“No. He said you’d tell us when you were ready but that wouldn’t be today.”

Meaning Maverick expected Lucky to see them again. His invitation hadn’t been a rash, last-minute decision. He’d not only told them about her, but he also made sure they’d respect the accommodations she needed. How could one person be so thoughtful all the time?

“I feel like you’re overthinking this,” Silvia continued. “It’s not a wear the shirt or we kick you out type mess, all right? Maverick said he wants you in the picture so you’re in it either way.” She returned to the closet, rummaging around. “My brother is extremely fucking private. My mom started crying when he asked to invite you and the fact that you’re here at all is a miracle. This should work.” She held up a cream-and-blue cardigan.

The hem stopped near Lucky’s thighs and the sleeves extended past her hands if she didn’t push them up. It swallowed her whole, but somehow still managed to look good. Slouchy but fashionable.

“I’m not gonna tell you his business because I don’t know what he’s told you and it’s not my place, but like”—Silvia grasped at the air for the words—“I know we look like one big happy family and it’s kind of intimidating to outsiders, but we have issues too. For me. My experience”—she paused again—“I’m the youngest. I didn’t see my brother for long stretches of time because he didn’t want to be around our parents. All I want is for him to be happy. If you can do that, I’ll take a bullet for you, honestly.”

“I don’t think anyone plans to shoot me. You should be safe,” she said. “I have a type of ESP. That’s why I wear the glasses. They help block my ability.”

“Okay. No idea what that means.”

“It means thank you for being kind to me.”

Maverick pictured having Lucky in his life long-term. If that’s what he wanted, she’d do her best to make it happen because she wanted it too. She’d approach his family one person at a time, getting to know them at her own pace. Exactly as she had with the Caretaker production team. She did it once, and she could do it again.

Lucky focused on Silvia’s eyes. “Your empathy makes you soft in a way you hate because it hurts so much, but it’s one of the best things about you. Without knowing I needed help, you knew I needed help. That’s why you volunteered to bring me up here before anyone else could. You feel like it’s your job to keep the peace in the family, so you do this often. You’re very good at it, but don’t forget to tell others what you need too. Be careful to not hold your feelings too tightly to your chest because they’ll only turn inward.”

“I—what?”

Lucky slipped her glasses back on. “Also, you’re Maverick’s favorite sibling.”