"Maverick, come to me," Julius said, arms open, waiting for Maverick to step into his embrace.
Julius' face was an expression Maverick had never seen on him before — bloodshot eyes, lips pressed into a downturned line, pain written all over his face.
Now, alone on a couch in the spa town's quiet lobby, Maverick sat staring blankly at the water fountain. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor, its warmth no longer as comforting as midday.
A soft breeze stirred the trees and grass outside, carrying with it the steady hush of leaves rustling — a soothing sound for anyone else, perhaps, but Maverick barely noticed it.
His fingers moved unconsciously, rubbing his thumb against his index finger in slow, repetitive circles. Hazy fragments of memory slipped through his mind — fragments from days before.
"You can have as many as you want, Maverick," Julius told him.
