Chapter Fifty-Six
Maddox
It’s ironic, waking up alone like this, the sinking gut feeling when my hand stretches out instinctively, reaching for her, only to find the other side of the bed cold. Nothing but rumpled sheets and the faintest trace of her left behind.
Shit.
I sit up, dragging a hand over my face, wondering what to do now. Clearly, last night meant more to me than her, and where I thought it was the start of something, it was actually a goodbye.
The early morning light slants through the half-open blinds, the ones I couldn’t bring myself to touch after days of lingering regret was all I could feel, and a thought cuts sharp against the sudden twist in my chest.
This is what I did to her.
I left her before, disappeared without warning, and maybe now this is her version of that. This is just me getting exactly what I gave her, and I deserve it.
Shoving out of bed, I grab a clean pair of boxer briefs and head out into the hallway. I’m halfway to the staircase, about to head downstairs when I hear it. Music, soft and melodic, the achingly beautiful sounds of a piano coming from deeper in the house.
It’s muffled, drifting from the spare room, but the melody moves through me like a tether, pulling me toward it. Toward her. The notes grow louder, clearer with each step, every key struck with purpose. It’s something classical, delicate and longing, the name lost to me now, but I recognize it.
Something visceral unfurls in my gut the closer I get, the kind of ache that lives in a beautiful memory. My grandma sitting at the piano, playing this song when I was a kid, the sun shining through the window, her eyes closed as she smiles.
The door is half open, light spilling from the gap, painting the hardwood floor in a warm amber. I push it open, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of her in the same place as my grandmother, wearing nothing but my shirt.
It hangs off her, the sleeves coming to her elbows, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s a little messy, sex tousled and from sleep, and something fast and sweet smacks in my chest at the image before me, her sitting like this, in my space, looking like home.
She’s barefoot, her feet pressing onto the pedals in front of her, eyes closed, fingers gliding over the keys, the music quietly filling the room, the melody spilling straight from her bones.
Like the drums, she’s not just playing. She’s feeling every single note.
For a second, I don’t dare to breathe as I stand and watch her, leaning against the doorjamb. I’ve never seen anything so heartbreakingly beautiful.
Not wanting to disturb her, I step into the room quietly. She doesn’t notice me until I slide onto the bench beside her, leaning in and pressing my lips to her shoulder, just beneath the collar of my shirt.
Even though she doesn’t stop playing, I feel her body relax, the tiniest smile blooming on her lips.
“I didn’t know you could play piano,” she murmurs, eyes still on the keys.
I half-laugh, half-sigh against her skin. “Definitely not as good as you. But I try.”
“Coming from a musical family, my parents supported us if we wanted to learn to play an instrument,” she says, her fingers effortlessly gliding over the keys. “I think I went through a couple until I held a pair of sticks and fell in love.”
She continues, the piece nearing the end with a final gentle chord, letting the sound hang in the air. Her fingers rest on the ivory-colored console before she finally turns to look at me. There’s no trace of last night’s tears, just clarity, a softness I haven’t seen before.
I shift, moving so my legs are on either side of the bench, bracketing her body with mine. “Paige…”
Her gaze lowers to my chest. “I know.”
“No.” I raise my hand, my fingers coming under her chin, tilting her head up. “Let me say it. Please.”
Her throat works on a swallow before nodding.
“I should’ve told you. About Penny… About everything…
And I’m so sorry.” My fingers find the hem of my shirt resting on her thighs, playing with the stitching.
“I wasn’t trying to protect myself, I swear.
I just didn’t know how to explain something that still doesn’t make sense in my own head. But I never meant to hurt you.”
“You did,” she says, not accusing, just honest.
“I know,” I whisper. “And if you need time, if you want space, I’ll give you whatever you want. I just…”
She breathes in deep, closing her eyes, then lets it out with a finality that feels like a decision. When her gaze meets mine, it’s steady with clarity. “I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, Maddox.”
That stuns me more than anything else she could have said. She keeps going, calm and sure, like she’s had this conversation in her head a hundred times already.
“If we’re going to move forward, personally, professionally, we can’t keep dragging it back into the room.”
She pauses, fingers brushing the necklace at her throat. The familiar action that once set my nerves on edge, now settles something inside me.
“I’ve looked at this every way possible, and yeah, I still don’t agree with how you handled it.
I don’t think I would have done the same thing, but I get it now.
I understand why you did it.” She glances down.
“I wanted to hate you. God, I’ve hated myself.
I’ve even been mad at Penny. But what’s the point? What does that fix?”
She reaches forward, pulling a notebook I’ve never seen before from the top of the piano.
“This is Penny’s journal,” she says softly, her fingers brushing over the spine of the brown book.
“We got matching pairs one year, and I’ve been carrying it with me ever since I found it in a box of her things.
” She holds it out. “I’ve been reading it every night, an entry before bed.
You’re in it, in every single one from the day she met you.
” My stomach tightens as she gives it a light shake in front of me. “Take it.”
I hold it in my hands, my fingers numb as I start to flip through the pages, the neat curls and swirls of each letter so different from Paige’s. My eyes skim over a few lines, memories flooding my head as different events in a timeline I tried to forget come back to me like they were never gone.
“I couldn’t bring myself to read the last one,” she whispers. “Because then it’d be over, but do you know what’s funny?”
She leans forward, turning to the final entry, pointing halfway down the page.
“If the two of them could meet, it would be like two souls colliding.”
My gaze snaps up to hers, my heartbeat spiking.
“Even in her diary, she rooted for us.” Shifting closer, her thigh brushes mine.
“I don’t want Penny to be a ghost between us.
I want her to be someone we talk about, celebrate, someone we love, openly, because she deserves that.
” She takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. “You deserve that.”
My fingers tighten around hers. I don’t even know what to say, how to respond to someone giving me more than I ever thought I’d be allowed. She’s not ignoring the past; she’s just choosing to let me grow beyond it.
And that somehow hurts more than any punishment ever could.
“Paige…” I swallow hard, trying to steady my voice. “I went to see Penny.”
“I know,” she says, a sad smile crossing her lips. “Dad told me.”
I shake my head gently, stopping her from saying anything more.
“I told her I love you.” Holding my hand up, I keep going, “You don’t have to say it back.
I just need you to know it. I love you, Paige, everything about you.
Even the parts of you that still hurt, the parts I don’t deserve to have.
Parts I want to learn everything about.”
For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, and that’s okay. She leans forward, forehead pressing gently to mine, eyes fluttering closed. I shut mine too, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest, sitting in the quiet, skin to skin, breath to breath.
“What about writing?” I ask, changing the subject to lift the pressure for her to feel like she owes me a reply.
Smirking, she tilts her head. “What about it?”
“I mean…how you got started.” I shift, trying not to sound like I’m suddenly paying attention because I’m invested in her now, because that would be bullshit.
“I know we haven’t talked about it before, and we should’ve.
Instead of me acting like an asshole and jumping down your throat, we should’ve been celebrating it, but—”
“But? Your ego was threatened,” she teases.
I half-huff, half-laugh under my breath, giving her waist a gentle squeeze and making her squirm without pulling away. She gasps, wriggling against me, her grin wide.
“I wasn’t threatened.” I match her smile. “I was intimidated.”
“You?” she asks, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. “Maddox Knox, intimidated?”
“The horror, right?”
Her smile dims as she looks down, her voice gentle. “I’ve done it since I was a kid. Writing short stories, angsty poems… I swear my high school teacher thought I had a problem because I kept killing off the main character.”
I rear back, my face screwing up. “Should I be worried?”
“Maybe,” she jokes, teeth clamping onto her lower lip.
I can’t resist, and I reach up, pulling it out with my thumb, dropping my hand to her chin and guiding her mouth to mine. She sighs, sinking into the kiss with slow, lazy strokes of her tongue.
“I was telling you a story,” she whispers, forehead resting on mine.
Leaning back, I gesture for her to continue.
“The poems moved to lyrics, and I was actually pretty good at it. Developed it a bit more during college, and one day I was showing Penny what I’d written, Dad overheard.
Said one of his teams were looking for a new songwriter and asked if I wanted to give it a go.
“It was fun at first. Working with these huge artists who were selling platinum records and touring the world. I was starstruck that I got to work with them. But when it came out that I was the daughter of Kit Deveraux, the requests to work with me piled up. I should’ve been ecstatic.
These celebrities wanted me. Only, they stopped caring about what I thought about the song and only wanted to know what the great Kit Deveraux thought. ”
She pauses, inhaling slowly, her entire body seemingly deflating as she exhales.
“That made it lose its shine real quick.”
I nod, understanding more now, everything she did to keep her family and herself separate.
“I’ll only ever care about your opinions when it comes to my songs,” I say, trailing my finger lightly over her wrist.
She glances at me and bites back a smile. “Careful. Your sweet side is showing.”
Shaking my head, I grin. “Scary, isn’t it?”
We sit in the quiet, neither of us moving, simply staring at one another.
“Listen, about last night…” I clear my throat, reaching up to tuck her hair over one shoulder. “We didn’t use protection. I’ve never gone without before, and I haven’t been with anyone since we met…”
“I’m clean,” she whispers as her eyes meet mine. “And I’m on the pill. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
After a while, I stand, closing the fallboard of the piano, covering the keys and taking her hand in mine. “Come back to bed. You can play for me again in the morning.”