Maybe it's the way Maverick's eyes shift away, only to be drawn back to me.
Or maybe it's the blush dusting his cheeks.
Or maybe it's the fact that he barged into my kitchen and has yet to say anything.
But whatever it is, Maverick knows exactly what I did. My mark warms again, like a lighthouse light pulsing with each rotation, and my hand moves to my neck.
Is it possible this mark somehow connects us?
That can't be. I can't feel Maverick at all, and I've never heard of a one-sided mark before.
There's a slight chance I'm being paranoid, and this is all in my head, but I've never felt this way after a morning like that and facing Maverick after.
“Maverick, I didn't know you would join us this morning," Mom says.
“Uh…yeah. I just came by to see Cayden."
“There is plenty to
