Page 1 of Fractured Hearts

prologue

MAVERICK

8 YEARS AGO

My hands shake as I button up my black shirt. Taking a deep breath, I look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

“This is too fancy,” I mumble to myself while quickly changing out of the gray slacks and putting jeans on instead. I’m overthinking this. I always do. But how could I not? I get to see my boyfriend perform with his band.

In the woods.

To a group of high schoolers.

But still.

I’ve wanted Ezra Irons for years. Ever since I bumped into him in the halls of our middle school. Literally. My books went flying, and so did I. My eyes burned with tears, and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment. I was already a nerdy, quiet kid. I didn’t need this kind of attention. But then the cutest boy with the sweetest smile appeared in front of me, offering me his hand and an apology for not looking where he was going. Ever since then, I’ve harbored a secret flame for him. We became friends, but that was as much as I was brave enough to pursue for a long time. He was a year older than me and so much cooler. I never understood why he wanted to be friends with me.

Then we went off to college. I would be lying if I said I didn’t pick the same school as him because I secretly hoped for more. But Ezra was straight. At least, that’s what I thought until he kissed me one night after we watched a movie in my dorm room. I was a goner the moment his lips touched mine. We were inseparable after that. I got up the nerve to ask him to be my boyfriend four months ago. Although we were exclusive long before that. I just wanted the comfort and security of the label.

Tonight, we’re going to tell everyone we’re together. I get to be Ezra’s boyfriend in public. No more hiding in our dorm rooms or sneaking kisses in empty hallways. Not everyone will be happy for us, I know that. There’s still so much hate surrounding same-sex couples, but it’s worth enduring that to love Ezra.

“Maverick!”

I sigh and square my shoulders at my mother’s shrill voice.

“Maverick!” she calls again.

“I’m coming!” I yell back. With one last glance in the mirror, I head downstairs.

I find my parents sitting in the front room. My dad is sitting with one leg crossed over the other, reading something on his phone. He’s in a gray suit, as always. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear anything other than a suit. My mom is sipping Malört. She loves the stuff, and I snuck some once when I was on break from college. It tastes like sweaty socks and regret. Her hair is in the same style as always, some sort of twist thing that makes it look like she has a beehive on her head.

My parents are very predictable. Which means I know exactly what this conversation is going to be about.

“You’re going to hang out with high school children tonight?” my mom says with her nose scrunching up like she smells something gross.

“Technically, they’re not in high school anymore.”

“Maverick,” my dad reprimands.

“Ezra is playing there tonight,” I explain, my voice soft. I made the mistake of telling them that Ezra was more than a friend, hoping they would be happy for me. I should’ve known better. They’ve never been quiet about their distaste for anyone that isn’t straight.

My parents exchange a glance, saying something without words that I’m probably better off not understanding.

Looking around the room, waiting for whatever I was called down here for, I take in the stuffy atmosphere. There isn’t a speck of dust on the mantle or end tables. The dark wood furniture and wine-red rug are supposed to make it feel warm, but the hard black couches and silver lamps make it feel like a medieval dungeon. This room makes me feel suffocated. This house, even with all its space, makes me feel suffocated.

“Your mother and I are having dinner with the Griffins,” my dad says, his attention back on his phone.

Callahan and Bellamy Griffin are going to be at the show tonight, so Dad must be talking about their parents. I didn’t know they even knew each other.

“Okay,” I say, unsure what they want from me. Mom lifts her brow, telling me that wasn’t the right answer. “I hope you have a good time,” I say quickly. Mom nods, like the answer was good enough.

“Don’t do anything to embarrass us tonight. You are a Wolfe and need to behave as such,” my dad says, leveling me with a glare that tells me there will be consequences if I mess up.

“I will,” I promise, taking it for the dismissal it was and walking away. I have the urge to run out the door, but I know if I do, I’ll be called back for a lecture about acting like a child.

“Oh, and Maverick? I set up a date for you with Marcy Fellows. Her grandfather was a congressman.” I stiffen at my mom’s words, my hand still on the door handle, one foot already out the door. I take a deep breath and leave, slamming the door behind me. Running to my car, I know I’ll regret my exit later, but I can’t let them ruin tonight for me.

My dad wants me to marry someone who benefits the family, either in power or money. Ideally both. My happiness is apparently not a benefit. My mom, like the good wife she is, sets up the dates for him after vetting the families. It makes me wonder if my parent’s marriage was arranged. It would make sense. They don’t seem to like each other most days. They don’t seem to like me most days. Is that what my future is going to be? Stuck in an unhappy marriage and resenting my children for being born?