"Oh my God, you're the greatest person Mav's ever dated." Esmé breathed in the scent of the lilies Everleigh had handed her. "I want to date you." Her eyes widened at the small rose bouquet in Everleigh's hand that wasn't holding Dewey's crate—the duty free she'd visited before meeting up with Esmé was a blessing and a half. "And you bought mom roses? Where did he find you?"

"Found me by running into me." Everleigh laughed.

Esmé waved her hand dismissively. "We get it. Love at first sight. Barf. Only Mav would manage that," Esmé said. "You're gorgeous, he's a..." She trailed off. "You know, never mind. It's okay."

"That a birthday gift from you?" Everleigh asked.

Esmé laughed. A little too hollow. She tilted her head in the direction Everleigh assumed her car was and they started walking out of YQG. "I'll be honest with you, Mav had a rough day yesterday. Had a late appointment and got some bad news. He hasn't been out of bed all day."

"Isn't it..." Everleigh looked down at her phone to check the time. A voicemail popped up. Kingston.

"Four?" Esmé filled in. "Yeah. Mom was trying to get him to eat earlier but he didn't want to. Wouldn't even take cake that she offered."

Everleigh's flight had been almost 13 hours with a layover when it could've been done in half the time without it. Any exhaustion she felt was stripped away by the immediate need to be with Maverick. It had been two weeks since she'd seen him—only a spare couple of phone calls in between while he caught up with family.

"What happened?"

"That's for him to tell you," Esmé said, raising her hands. She clicked her car keys as they approached the vehicle. "But I just wanted to warn you before you got there. If he's being weird, it's not your fault."

Everleigh nodded as she carefully placed Dewey's crate in the trunk. "Thank you."

"Sometimes when he gets like this..." Esmé started, unable to find her way in the trail her sentence lost itself in. "It's rough. I'm not gonna lie to you. He doesn't really want to talk and he doesn't eat and he just... he shuts down. It's like he..."

"Doesn't want to exist?" Everleigh offered. Her eyebrows knitting together. She tossed a couple treats into Dewey's crate; both because he'd earned it from the flight and because she didn't want to look at Esmé.

"Yeah. It's..." Esmé couldn't find her footing on the words. "Mav's a lot of things and strong is one of them. But sometimes he crumbles. I don't think today really matters to him; so it's just going to be mom, you, and me. We didn't think he could handle anything else."

"Does he know I'm her—" Everleigh stopped herself when her phone vibrated again. Kingston. "Never mind."

"I'm not saying you can't pick up," Esmé said. "I'm saying that we're, like, maybe fifteen minutes from home."

Against her better judgement, Everleigh didn't answer the call. Let it go to voicemail before pocketing it. Her hands shook. Kingston Maverick had answered her call every opportunity he could when she was down, a pit in her stomach formed at not hearing his voice. Especially with what Esmé had told her. Her happy birthday, babes. <3 from before leaving for her flight, at five in the morning her time, midnight in Ontario time, felt too little of a gesture, even when she was running on a couple airplane coffees and had already travelled there to see him in person.

"I promise," Esmé said, "it's going to make his day when he sees you. I'll get us there in ten."

Esmé got them there in seven.

Everleigh was half certain her fingernails were close to snapping with how hard she'd gripped the seat. She hoped Dewey was okay in the trunk; neither her nor Maverick drove that fast. At least she'd cracked open the back couple windows so he could breathe through any panic he felt.

When they got to the house, Esmé took Dewey out of the crate so she could lead him in. A natural. She bent down every two steps to pet him on her way to the door. Everleigh hoped that meant she could give her undivided attention to Maverick. Her grip on Margaret's rose bouquet was iron. And slightly sweaty.

Everleigh's phone rang again as they walked in the door.

"Mav!" Esmé yelled up the stairs.

No reply.

Margaret poked her head out from a doorway down the front hall. A smile grew and she jogged over, burying Everleigh in a hug. "It's so nice to see you in person," she whispered. Making sure not to raise her voice. She crouched down and pet Dewey between the ears. Instant best friends. "Nice to meet you, sweet boy."

"Maverick!"

"Fuck off."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you."

"Get down here you sad sack of shit!"

"No."

"Esmé?" Margaret said. "Why don't you go up and get him and stop yelling in everyone's ears—"

Esmé rolled her eyes and handed Margaret Dewey's leash. "I guess that could work."

"Good choice."

Esmé jogged up the stairs; ready for a brawl.

"Um." Everleigh held the roses out to Margaret. Her stomach ate away at itself as she tried not to look up the stairs. "These are for you."

Margaret stood up from her crouch. "Roses? Oh, you shouldn't have. Thank you."

"Oh my God! Get out of my room!"

"Get out of bed!"

"I don't want to!"

"We should probably go to the living room," Margaret said. "This way."

The sound of a smack.

"Ow! Fuck off!"

"At least be depressed with your family!"

"Quickly," Margaret said.

Everleigh led Dewey to the living room behind Margaret. Getting him to sit beside her leg even though he wanted to run around and take in the new house. Margaret placed her roses in an empty vase on the fireplace.

"You can let him off when Mav comes down.," Margaret said. "But we do want you to be a surprise."

A loud thud. Definitely a body. Christ.

"Let go of me!"

"Oh, thank God you're out of bed! Just in time to come downstairs!"

"Get out!"

"Mom needs you!"

"Why didn't you say that?"

"Because you should've just listened!"

"I'm so sorry," Margaret said.

"For what?"

Another smack. A bang. A thud. Dewey's ears perked up. Everleigh ran a hand on his chest to try and keep him at bay. Any bark and the surprise would be done for.

"Them."

"Esmé warned me he wasn't... feeling well," Everleigh said. "It's okay."

"It's going to be a small dinner and then we'll let him do what he wants, even if that means he wants to go back to bed," Margaret said. "I don't know what else we can do."

"That's about it."

"Brush your teeth before you go downstairs, Jesus Christ!"

"Stop telling me what to do." Every time Maverick yelled, Dewey looked in the direction of the stairs. Everleigh looked at Margaret for silent permission to pick him up, Margaret nodded. Everleigh sat him in her lap to try and calm him down.

"I'm not telling you, I'm begging."

"Fuck off. No."

"Your funeral."

"Give me a minute."

"I'm waiting outside the door." A smack. "Ow, Mav."

Margaret sighed, rolled her eyes. "I don't know who they learned this from."

Everleigh smiled. "It's okay."

A few moments later, Esmé came down. A slower pair of footsteps followed her.

"Mom, what do you need?" Maverick asked as he walked into the room. Everleigh couldn't stop Dewey from jumping off her lap. A hand dragged through his newly bleached blonde curls—new enough he hadn't told Everleigh about the dye job yet. "I'm trying to call—" Maverick looked down as Dewey ran around his legs and jumped up on his shins. Everleigh would've said a year prior that it took a weirdo to walk downstairs to see his mother while wearing a shirt from his own stadium tour, but it specifically took a Maverick to do so, she had learned. "Dewey?"

"You're trying to call Dewey?" Esmé deadpanned.

Maverick smacked her on the shoulder.

"I'm trying to call—" It only took a moment for Maverick to look up, see Everleigh, and promptly turn on his heel and sprint up the stairs. Dewey dashed after him.

"Where are you going?" Margaret called after him.

"I'm brushing my teeth!"

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Loser!"

"Be nice," Margaret said. "He's having a rough day."

"I'm having a rough day listening to him," Esmé said. Absolutely not one to admit how worried she looked about her brother while taking a whole seven minutes to drive the two of them there.

"His hair looks nice."

"He came home with that after yesterday," Margaret said.

"We still don't know who he convinced to bleach his hair at six at night considering this is Ontario and everything shuts down at five on the dot, but he did it," Esmé said.

"Do I... ask him about yesterday?" Everleigh asked. As much as she knew about Maverick, they both knew him better.

"No." Margaret and Esmé were in sync. Everleigh did her best not to jump.

On the other hand, Maverick screamed upstairs. "Dewmaster, didn't hear you there. Shit, man."

Esmé groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Jesus Christ."

"Give him a break," Margaret said.

"I just had to drag him out of bed, he should give me a break."

"Esmé."

"Fine."

Footsteps led back into the living room a minute later—both Maverick and Dewey rejoined the three women. The former had changed out of his tour shirt and boxers into a pair of joggers, white shirt, and a denim button up that he hadn't bothered to button up. Maverick walked straight past Esmé and Margaret and practically tackled Everleigh onto the couch as he buried her in a hug. She had to spare a hand to brace both of them.

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up the phone—" Everleigh started, voice only loud enough for him.

"I didn't know you were coming, I wouldn't have called—"

"Happy birthday."

"Getting old, Meadowlark."

"Lookin' just fine to me, you spoon."

Maverick pulled away and gave her a quick kiss before looking at his mother and sister. A little awkwardly. Like he'd forgotten they were there. (His puppy interview would've dinged like it had 20 other times—the editor paid close attention to his lack thereof.) "Um. I'm assuming I don't have to say this is Everleigh."

Margaret laughed. "Think we're past that one, Mav."

"Honestly," Esmé said. "She brought flowers with her for both of us. You came here and—"

"I've had a long 24 hours, Es." Maverick rubbed a hand over his eye. He did look tired. A little too dark under the eyes, a yawn fading into the back of his hand. He leaned back on the couch and let his arm drape over the back.

"I'm just saying," Esmé said. "You should go back to London and leave Everleigh here for us."

"I think," Margaret said, holding a thick book toward Everleigh as she joined them on the couch. "That it's time for you to be able to look through this. It's been waiting."

"Mom, no."

"Mags, yes," Everleigh said, taking the photo album from Margaret. "If you got to see my yearbook photo, I get to see this, Kingston."

"You looked cute with long hair." Maverick dragged a lazy finger through her bangs and tucked them behind her ear.

"Revolting. Never bring that up again."

"You two are cute." Everleigh wasn't sure anything Esmé had said since stepping in the house hadn't been dripping with sarcasm. There were two Esmé's, Everleigh noticed. The one who worried outwardly, and the one who covered that worry with jokes. The latter had been with her since Maverick hadn't made an appearance.

Everleigh cracked open the photo album and a small groan escaped Maverick's lips. Esmé leaned on the back of the couch behind Everleigh so she could look over.

"You put that at the start of the album?"

"You might not want to talk to her," Margaret said, "but your mom gave us these just in case. They belong there. I don't want to hear it again."

There were a couple photos of a yellow-tinted hospital room. A teenage girl holding a newborn in her arms, blue hospital gown around her shoulders and hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Everleigh snuck a glance in Maverick's direction, a sour expression on his face—she couldn't tell if it was aimed at the girl in the photos or the lack of anyone else in the room besides nurses and doctors.

He caught her eye and looked away. The expression growing into one that was more nauseated than anything. Everleigh couldn't say much: the people in the photos Maverick had looked through of her were still in her life. She didn't know what he was feeling and didn't want to pretend she did.

Everleigh turned the page. A younger Maverick stared back at her; grinning. Sometimes toothless. As she flipped through Maverick's childhood, one photo in particular caught her eye. Maverick, probably around seven, dressed in a military green flight suit and aviators, a grin on his face. Esmé beside him was dressed the pink Power Ranger beside him.

"Are you Maverick?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is this a chicken and egg situation?"

"Mav watched our copy of Top Gun until the VHS wore out," Margaret said, pointing to a couple other photos of him with toy planes in his hands. "Wanted to be a pilot when he grew up. Made everyone call him Maverick instead of Kingston."

"He was Maverick for, like, six years in a row."

"Four."

"You wanted to be a pilot?" Everleigh looked at Maverick.

The sour expression had gone. He'd replaced it with something more neutral. Shrugged off Everleigh's comment. "Can't be a pilot if you're going to be deaf in both ears by the time you're thirty."

"He went to Little Miss Sunshine after that," Esmé said.

Little Miss fucking Sunshine.

Maverick's expression might've been less than anything he was feeling; but Everleigh knew better. Those eclipsed suns told her everything she needed to know about what he was feeling. And it wasn't anything good.

Margaret turned the page.

*

"You hide out here often?"

Maverick waved the smoke away from him like he was a teenager caught by his mother and not an adult caught by his girlfriend.

Everleigh slid the balcony door closed behind her. "Don't stop on account of me."
"Technically, I did," Maverick said as he took another inhalation from his joint. "Weed's illegal in the UK. I Googled it before I packed. Didn't want you in trouble."

"Sorry."

"I'm sorry they invited you on a bad day," Maverick said. "If I'd known I would've been more presentable from the start."

Everleigh leaned against the railing beside him. "I like the blonde."

"Oh, God." Maverick scoffed out a laugh. "I forgot I did that until I was brushing my teeth and saw it in the mirror. Fucking stupid."

"It suits you."

"You really don't have to be nice to me."

"When have I ever been nice to you if I didn't have to?" Everleigh nudged her shoulder against his.

Maverick smiled. "Guess you've got me there."

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not really."

"That's okay too," Everleigh said. "Is it all right if I stay here or do you want to be alone?"

"God, no. Please stay," Maverick said. "I didn't want to be alone, I just... needed some air. I love mom and Es, but they can be a lot. Especially when they're trying to overcompensate."

"I'll be here as long as you need."

"I'm not really ready to talk about yesterday," Maverick said. "But can I tell you another story?"

"Any time."

"I want to talk about New York."

"Kingston, New York is—"

"I know you said it's in the past," Maverick said. "And I appreciate it. But I want to tell you... how New York came to be."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. If that's okay."

"It's okay."

Maverick audibly swallowed. Took a long pull before breathing it out the corner of his mouth. Offered Everleigh the joint, which she declined. "I met Rhylan when I was eleven. Um, right around the time I was told I'd lose my hearing before thirty. I'd always known it was coming, I just thought I'd have time to do all the things I wanted to and under twenty years didn't feel like enough. I think I fell in love with her because she didn't treat me like it was something of a burden, like everyone else was.

"We were friends for two years before I asked her out," Maverick said. Another long pull. Like he was stalling but still wanted to tell her. "Dated for six on and off before I proposed. Don't know if it was dumber for her to say yes or me to ask in the first place. I know it doesn't excuse the..." Maverick cleared his throat. "Backstage... activities."

"What a way to say make-out session." Everleigh ran a hand up her arm. Embarrassing that she was cold in the middle of August.

Maverick placed the joint between his lips and stalked away for a moment, ducking into the house. Came back a couple moments later with the comforter from his bed and draped it over her shoulders silently. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Today was supposed to be laundry day."

Everleigh gripped the blanket with one hand, running the other up his arm. "Do you want some of it?"

Maverick held his hand up and shook his head, taking another pull from his joint. "I'm okay."

"If you change your mind—"

"I'll let you know," Maverick said. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that she's always kind of been there. And I know it doesn't erase the stupid decision I made that night, but she always felt concrete to me. Even after we weren't engaged and just kind of..."

"You can say fucked."

Maverick winced and crushed the end of the paper into an ashtray beside him. "Yeah. That. We were still seeing each other. I guess there was part of me that always thought that was everything. That even though I'd tried dating other people, I was always going to end up with her. In one way or another.

"When I had a panic attack in New York, she was there," Maverick continued. "And... and I don't know why but my brain just... went back to being that stupid 19 year old who felt like that was the right option. That she was."

Everleigh didn't know why her chest stung as much as it did. As if Maverick wasn't there and she hadn't just met his family and he hadn't met hers and she wasn't happy with him. (She hoped he was happy with her. That she wasn't just another weed on the sidewalk that led to Rhylan.)

"I'm not trying to say that I didn't fuck up," Maverick said. "I guess... God—" He interrupted himself with a soft laugh that simultaneously made her head feel like pudding with the amount of things she'd do for that laugh and made her want to jump off the balcony and hope she snapped her neck on the pavement. "How come this was so easy when we were teenagers? As if it's not something I understand a lot more now?"

"Take your time," Everleigh said gently. She still needed to talk herself off of interrupting him to kiss every inch of his face for trying to talk to her.

"I love you."

In movies when characters say that word, it's usually desperate. Like it's a final plea in the begging to be loved because that's all anyone needs in life. Love is a vessel to thrive on. It's a source of oxygen and it's the only lifeline they needed.

Kingston Maverick said I love you like he was vomiting. Like it twisted in his stomach and it churned and it needed to get out because nothing would make him feel better. The I love you bile needed to be spilled because he'd be more violently ill if he kept it to himself. He said I love you like it was panicked; like there wasn't certainty. Like it was something he was so certain of that he figured no one else would ever be as certain as him. (Like he'd said it one too many times and it had scared people away.)

(Everleigh wasn't scared.)

"Is that weird to—"

Everleigh did cut him off. Any other panicked breaths that threatened to escape were transformed into kisses and soft touches of her waist and eyelashes tickling cheeks as eyes closed. Everleigh's hand found the nape of his neck, wanting to hold him there for the rest of her life.

"I love you too," Everleigh said, only pulling away a sliver. Eyes still closed, foreheads together. Breathing like they hadn't had fresh air in years. "If that's weird to say, we'll be fucking weird together."

A stolen glance through lazy eyelashes told her Maverick was smiling. She'd do anything for that smile. Anything.

"I'm really glad you're here."

"Happy birthday, Kingston," Everleigh said. "I love you."

"I love you too, Meadowlark."

Everleigh kissed him again. And again. Couldn't quite ignore the way Maverick used his comforter to pull her against him.

Maverick still had her pinned to him when he pulled away. "We should probably at least pretend we exist in the house with mom and Esmé."

"Probably."

"Or."

"Or?"

"I have Witcher 3." Another kiss. Like he couldn't help himself. "If you want to play. We'll give you a profile on the Play Station and everything."

Everleigh smiled. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

"After that whole speech—" Maverick laughed. "Witcher and your own Play Station profile is what got you?"

Everleigh kissed him. A small peck. "Absolutely."

"You're one of a kind, Meadowlark."