The Name on the Screen

Maverick's POV

The morning sun fought its way through the busted blinds, weak and broken, casting jagged stripes of light across the scuffed hardwood floor like it was trying to wake up a room that didn’t want to be disturbed. Everything here looked tired—every crack in the paint, every burn mark on the kitchen counter, every threadbare patch on the couch I couldn’t get comfortable on last night.