When I got home, Maverick was already there.

He looked like he’d only been back a little while. He hadn’t even changed out of his dress shirt. He sat on the couch with his phone in his hand, his expression tight and ugly.

He heard me and looked up.

I figured Brittany had run to him to tattle. Word about the fight that afternoon had reached him.

Which was normal. I’d dared to lay hands on Brittany, so I’d already been prepared for ...