Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
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I've woken up every morning consumed with guilt this past week.
But for the first time, it isn't the usual one—the one brought on by my haste and rash decisions and reactions. It isn't about what I said to Chase—though that still lingers like an old scar that I keep picking at—nor is it the guilt over what I'm doing now. But rather for my judgement and subsequent treatment of Maverick.
Maverick.
Even though I haven't said his name out loud, it's the first time I thought of him like that, rather than referring to him as Parker.
My chest pinches at the thought of calling him something that continuously brought him such pain. I had noticed the clenched jaw and fists that his fingers curled into, and I know I've intentionally wanted to hurt him over what he did to Sam in the past.
But after hearing his side of things, remorse warms every inch of my body. I simply trusted my brother because of our shared history. I didn't want to believe that he could easily toss me aside and lie to me after all the pain we endured growing up.
But he pushed me away the second Maverick showed up. Actually, when I think about it, it started much before him but was exacerbated by Maverick's arrival.
I need to find out what happened. If not for my own sake, at least to provide Maverick with some answers. He's been chasing them for years from his dad, and from the pain in his voice, I sensed that he believed he wasn't deserving of them. I want to prove him wrong. He deserves the truth. And after everything I've done and said to him, I owe him that.
With a hollowness and a pang that weighs heavily on my chest, I slide my round glasses over my head and rub my blurry eyes that strain from staring at my laptop for hours. I flip through the files on the desk before me, trying to get as much information as possible, so I spend less time here.
When the door creaks open, I let out an internal groan. Not bothering to glance at the intruder, I slide my glasses back into place and focus on the words before me, scrolling through my notes. I know who it is, and with his arrival, I don't even want to be here anymore.
I'm just waiting for the paperwork and an opening with another supervisor before I can make the switch. Technically, Elijah isn't my supervisor anymore, but I don't think he's aware of that because I got a lengthy email from him, scolding me for missing a few hours the past few days. I replied while blind copying Jenny so she's aware of what's happening.
I'm not leaving anything to chance.
I'm not one to wait for something to happen and then worry about it after the fact. I'm one comment away from filing an official complaint against Elijah.
What he walked in on with Maverick and I was inappropriate; I completely understand and agree with it. I should have been more diligent, especially in a professional setting. But Elijah's response, as my direct supervisor, was utterly uncalled for.
