Page 128 of Maverick

Trixie flinches, and guilt floods through me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling in my chest.

"I'm sorry, Trix," I say softly. "I know you're in a tough spot. But please, can't you talk to him?" God knows, I've been trying, but a brick wall would listen better than Maverick Walker.

She shakes her head, her eyes filled with sympathy and fear. "I can't lose this job, Cadence. My husband... we need this. I'm so sorry."

The fight drains out of me, leaving me hollow. I nod stiffly and turn to leave, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I get it. I'm sorry for asking Trixie."

The drive home is a blur of muffled sobs and screams. I almost don't recognize myself. This isn't like me. I'm calm, and level headed, and I take everyone exactly the way they are.

But I just can't with him.

I burst through the door of our apartment, startling Nan from her crossword puzzle.

"We have to go," I announce, pacing the living room like a caged animal. "This isn't working. He's trying to control me, take away my choices. We need to leave."

Nan watches me calmly, her weathered face etched with concern. "Sit down, child," she says softly. "Let's talk this through."

I collapse onto the couch, the words pouring out of me in a frantic rush. I tell her about the club, about Maverick's refusal to discuss my job, about the suffocating feeling of being trapped.

"He says he loves me," I choke out, "but how can he? He can't. Not if he's doing this."

Nan shakes her head, reaching out to take my trembling hands in hers. "Aw honey," she says sympathetically. "You're both scared, plain and simple."

"I'm not scared. Yeah, the first day I was a little shaky, but I'm fine now."

"That's not the kind of scared I'm talking about honey, and you know it. I'm talking about him, and the way you run from your feelings. I've watched you do it your whole life."

"You're expecting him to leave," Nan continues, her voice gentle but firm. "So you're trying to beat him to the punch. I've watched you do that over and over, but honey, till now, I didn't have a problem with it. Those other men, those relationships, they weren't great, and I was happy to see you send them packing. But that fear you're feeling now, that instinct to run? That's all thanks to your mom. Don't let her ruin this for you."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to deny it, but deep down, I know she's right. The fear of abandonment has been my constant companion, a gift from my mother that I've never been able to shake. You'd think more than thirty years living with two incredibly loving, dependable people would be enough to heal that wound, but clearly not.

As I sit there, processing Nan's words, my mind starts to wander through the graveyard of my past relationships. There was Jake, the charming bartender I dated for six months before abruptly ending things when he suggested we move in together. Then came Alex, the kind-hearted teacher I ghosted after our third date, convinced he was too good to be true. And let's not forget about Eli, who gave me a ring. I didn't run screaming, but within a week, I was gone.

Each failed relationship flashes before my eyes, and suddenly, I see it - the pattern Nan's talking about. In every instance, I was the one who pulled away first, who made the problems bigger than they were, who ran at the first sign of forever. The realization is both liberating and terrifying. I've been sabotaging myself all along.

I slump back against the couch, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I'm not okay with what he's doing, though," I whisper. "He promised me that he would never let this get in the way of me working at the club. Then he fired me."

Nan squeezes my hand. "You're going to have to face this together, like grown-ups. But running away? That's not the answer, sweetheart. Not this time."

Groaning, I drop my head on the cushion, and put my hands over my eyes. "In my defense, I've been trying. I was hanging in there Nan. I tried to have conversations about it, and he just won't listen. I don't know what else there is to do."

"Threaten him."

My head pops back up, and I blink at her. "What?"

"Threaten him. You know you're not going to leave, but if you've tried to have a rational conversation, and he won't participate, then make him understand how important it is to him."

"You just told me not to walk away."

"Well yes, but that means don't run off into the fucking night, Cady. But if this relationship really is turning bad, if you're truly seeing things in him that worry you, then you should go."

"I'm so confused."

"For fuck's sake kid. Pin the man down, make him talk to you, make him understand that he doesn't get to dictate your life. If he won't fucking listen, then maybe it's time to go. I won three thousand dollars from Connie playing poker yesterday, so I can help with the damage deposit on our new place." She stands, pats me on the cheek, then grabs her purse off the counter. "I'm heading down to Connie's. We're having supper and watching Casablanca tonight. Love you honey."

"Wait. When did you learn how to play poker?" I shout after her. She doesn't answer, but her cackling laugh is cut off by the door closing. I'm going to have to keep an eye on those two. Seems like she and Connie have gotten tight, quick, which is great. But poker? Who the hell staked her?

I bet it was Nick.