"No, I—" Everleigh started to protest.

"Yesterday? Well—" Maverick stumbled over his words. Classic. "This morning, really. You sounded... upset."

"I didn't call you."

"I'd rather not listen to the message again, but I promise you did."

Everleigh swallowed hard. "No, I didn't, I called—" Everleigh looked at Maverick, his expression looked guilty for listening to it in the first place. "I thought I called Juno."

"You did start the message with that," Maverick said. "I was a little confused."

"No, no, no." Everleigh walked over to her bed and grabbed her phone, madly scrambling to her phone app and seeing that she had, in fact, dialled Kingston and not Juno. She needed to put last names in her contacts. That wouldn't have happened if she had. Dumbass. "I'm so sorry. That wasn't for you."

"I figured." Everleigh heard Maverick swing the bar back on the door, lock the handle before he walked into the hotel room. "But if I was the only person you called, I figured you really needed someone."

"I..." Everleigh stared at him for a moment.

His curls were still wet from the stage lights, earpiece draped over his shoulders, a jacket thrown on over top of stage clothes. She could've melted into the floor with the expression on his face. A little crease between his eyebrows. Eyes shining with enough concern that Everleigh probably could've spilled everything to him in the longest sentence known to man. He hadn't even put his glasses on after the show. His hands shifted in his pockets like he was itching to reach out to her but knew she was the type to not want that.

Everleigh got up from her seat on the bed. Maybe she was the type that day. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her hand in his hair. Yup, a little sweaty. Everleigh didn't care. She held him a little tighter despite the wet hair.

Maverick's arms were hesitant when they wrapped around her waist. Like he wasn't sure she was going to tell him to get off. Not him, not today, not that night. Everleigh had the feeling he wouldn't be the one to pull away, either.

Everleigh kissed his cheek without really thinking about it. Tried to not let that panic overtake her when she eventually pulled away—Maverick looked about the same. Good. They weren't going to mention it. Exactly what Everleigh wanted. "Thank you."

"Everleigh..." Maverick started. His hand went up to her cheek, thumb gently wiping away tears. Lord, Everleigh still had those to spare, huh? She couldn't look at him when tears formed in his eyes too. Emotional fucker. "Can I ask what happened? I don't want to sound like an ass, but... but you look tired. And you called at, like, three in the morning... And one plus one..."

"You don't sound like an ass," Everleigh said. "I am tired."

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

Everleigh was a little too aware of the way that Maverick's hand had stayed on her cheek. And the hand that wasn't on her cheek still rested along her waist. Everleigh kept her hands on his shoulders, for once in her life enjoying the closeness.

"I..." Everleigh frowned. "Do you have a concert tomorrow? I don't want to—"

"Everleigh Meadowlark." Maverick's voice was gentle enough Everleigh wanted to assure him she wouldn't shatter if he brought himself above a whisper. "I cancelled tomorrow. You scared the living shit out of me. I thought you were about to... jump off the Golden Gate or something."

"I'm not going to jump off a bridge." Everleigh took her hands off him, walked back to her bed and sat down. "I do feel better."

"What the hell happened?"

Everleigh sighed and looked at Maverick—things might have felt better but there was still an undeniable heaviness that came with how stressed out she had been that morning. "You can sit."

"I smell like sweat." And he did. Whatever.

"And I smell like Taco Bell," Everleigh said. "Sit."

Maverick looked at her like he was making sure she wasn't kidding. Joke's on him, she didn't have the energy to. He walked forward and gently sat down next to her. Still afraid he'd break something.

Maverick stayed quiet. Gave Everleigh the space to stay quiet too. Or talk if she needed to. There was room for her to do what she needed. She chose to stare at her thumb and pick at a hangnail. She didn't mean to be avoidant, she simply didn't know where to start. That had always been a problem. Usually people didn't pay attention to her long enough for it to matter either way. They just forgot.

After a long silence, Maverick finally broke it. "I'm not trying to rush you, but I do have... um, a panic disorder. And you looking like that isn't convincing my brain that you're not—"

Was that why he was sweating and fidgety? Not because of the stage?

Stop psychoanalyzing him, Everleigh.

"Kingston, I'm not going to jump off a bridge. I promise. I just..." Everleigh sighed. "I thought I had everything figured out. And even though I've mostly sorted the... active problem, I still feel like the rug's been pulled out from under my feet."

Maverick nudged Everleigh with his shoulder. "Need a little more than that. If you're willing."

And so, Everleigh told him. About her professor and clinical and how she always felt like a fucking failure.

That last part didn't mean to slip out. But by the time she was sharing everything, saying, "I feel like I always let everyone down and I thought this might finally make someone proud," was easier than tying her shoes. Maverick wiped her tears away throughout her recollection of being the forgotten sister, daughter, human.

When Everleigh was done talking, Maverick looked at her in a way that forced her to shove her hand in his face and push him away from her. She blew a raspberry at him for good measure. Let out a small laugh.

"God, stop looking at me like I told you my dog died, you plonker."

Maverick laughed with her and took her hand off his face. Held it. Stroked the back of it with his thumb. "I'm sorry."

Everleigh looked at him for a long moment. A little too lost in those brown eyes. "You didn't have to cancel your show tomorrow."

"Sure I did."

"No, you didn't."

"It was nothing, Everleigh Meadowlark. Really."

"What excuse did you even give them?" Everleigh asked. "My friend's a dumbass and I need an entire day to recuperate after listening to her have a mental fucking breakdown?"

Maverick shrugged. "Family emergency. I texted Esmé that she needed to fake a kidney replacement if the media caught her anywhere."

"You're not serious." Everleigh fought the urge to gape at him.

"I'm fully serious." Nothing about his face remotely looked like he was joking. Jesus Christ. Everleigh wanted him to stop looking at her like that. It was annoying.

Everleigh laughed. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I know."

"How'd you even find my room?"

"I'm a convincing fake husband."

"You didn't." Everleigh gaped at him. Again, Maverick's facial expression didn't change. Again with the not joking. Again with telling Everleigh the fuckin' truth when maybe he absolutely should not have.

"Did you know it's our anniversary and I'm a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise you?" A little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "The concierge was thrilled."

"You're such a spoon."

"I was worried, Everleigh." As if that explained everything.

Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. "I'm sorry."

"Don't go all doe-eyed on me now, Meadowlark," Maverick said. "At least you're laughing when you're making fun of me."

"Did you have to show ID?"

Maverick laughed. Loudly. "Dear fucking God, you are the weirdest person I know."

"Hey."

"Drops all this really bad stuff on me," Maverick laughed out his words in a way that said if he didn't, he'd cry, "and the first thing she asks is if I had to show ID when I had to sneak into her room—"

"Did they actually give you a key?"

"Everleigh—"

"'Cause it's bad security if they did."

"Can you please pretend you don't avoid things you don't want to talk about like the plague for, like, two minutes, please?" Maverick asked.

Everleigh frowned at him. "That doesn't sound like me."

"No, it doesn't."

"Why do you want me to talk so bad—"

"I think I've already established that you scared the living shit out of me, Everleigh."

"Thought I did that when I passed out."

"You constantly scare the living shit out of me. More than you know."

"Oooo," Everleigh said. "Tell me about that."

"Everleigh."

"What?"

"Please?"

Everleigh searched Maverick's eyes. There was a tinge of exhaustion blushing under them; it made Everleigh want to cry harder. The low light of the nightstand's lamp was barely enough to make those whiskey eyes shine, the suns hidden behind clouds. Maverick had light dots of freckles across his nose Everleigh hadn't noticed before. A couple moles on his neck that fit him a little too well. Everleigh was going to do something stupid if she didn't—

Her eyes darted back up to his.

Everleigh's voice was quiet when she managed to speak again. "I don't have anything else to say."

"Okay," Maverick said. "Can I say something?"

"Any time."

"When I went to Juilliard..." Maverick trailed off. "Don't laugh."

Everleigh's face had never been straighter. "I'm not laughing."

"No Juilliard jokes?"

"I've heard it's prestigious."

"You're really feeling like shit if you're not taking the time to make fun of me, aren't you?"

"I'm feeling like shit, but I also don't think it's something to be made fun of."

Maverick narrowed his eyes at her. Everleigh wrinkled her nose and shot him a squinted, mocking glance. He rolled his eyes.

"You're getting upset and I'm not even making fun of you."

"I'd rather you make fun of me."

"Not today."

Maverick stared at her for a moment. Everleigh looked down. Her hand still being held. Still being stroked by Maverick's thumb. Absentmindedly—she was sure he didn't realize he was doing it. Or doing it to keep the panic from setting in. Everleigh found the urge to hold his hand still.

"When I went there, it felt like I was never doing anything right. I got shitty grades because professors didn't like my lyrics or they thought my music comp wasn't original," Maverick said. "It felt like someone was always telling me that I wasn't going to make it and that I didn't have what it takes."

"Uplifting."

"There it is." Maverick laughed. "I'm just... It's... I'm trying to say that you don't need someone's validation to know you're on the right track. It'll work out, Everleigh. I promise."

"Can I—" Everleigh stopped herself. Badly mimed a hug.

Maverick let a giggle boil over his lips. "You must really be feeling shitty if you're—"

"Can I, though?"

"I'm going to give you explicit permission for the rest of our... friendship to do whatever you'd like whenever you'd like," Maverick said. "Especially if it's a hug when you're feeling shitty, okay?"

"You can retract that consent any time you'd like—"

"I never thought I'd have to say this tonight," Maverick said, "but shut up, Everleigh."

Maverick practically lunged at her. Wrapped her in an embrace that was warm enough to be a space heater. Although she'd requested it, Everleigh took her time returning the hug. She'd never been a hugger in the first place. But sometimes she allowed it when it felt deserved. As the night settled in and what he'd done had really settled in, Everleigh decided he deserved it. More than that.

There weren't many words that Everleigh could think to say. She wasn't the poet. Sue her.

Instead she managed a small, "Thank you for being here," that she half hoped Maverick didn't hear.

Maverick dropped his chin onto her shoulder gently. "Thank you for letting me be here."

Everleigh hugged him a little tighter.