2. Chapter Two
Maddison
Four Years Ago
I f there’s one thing that really grinds my gears, it’s when a person can’t read a room and take a hint. I drain the last of my soda from the corner of a smoke-filled bar, tuning out the sound of my friends’ rambunctious laughter around me as I watch the drunk woman across the room. The petite blonde is sloshed and all but humping the leg of a surly-looking dude, who looks like he’s just trying to tolerate her.
The woman flips her hair over her shoulders, cackling like a hyena while everyone around her shoots her irritated looks. The man’s face remains stoic, his lips pressed into a firm line while taking a drink of his beer. To the drunk woman’s credit, she has impeccable taste in men. Maybe if the man wasn’t sporting some strong fuck-off vibes, I would have approached him myself. Maybe I would have smiled at him if I wasn’t just now crawling out of an almost year-long hole of numbness and depression. As it is, my friends had to cajole me to come out tonight. They’ve been living it up all year, not wanting to waste a single moment of their college experience when there are so many parties to be had.
I’ve been standing on the outside looking in the entire time.
Maybe if it hadn’t happened, I would be drunk and flirting my way through the room, too. Instead, I’m staring at a black-haired man in a white shirt and Wranglers as he tries to discreetly shrug off the woman’s touch. She gives him a flirtatious smile before slinging an arm over his shoulder and winking at him. She leans in a little closer, the angle of her body showing off her cleavage as she whispers in his ear. The man looks mildly uncomfortable, leaning away in an attempt to put some distance between them. When the woman’s hand grazes across his jean-clad thighs, I see red. Something about this exchange has me silently fuming and seething, wanting to storm over there and rip her hand away.
I mean, the fucking audacity.
Making my decision, I scoot my chair back so hard it screeches on the sticky barroom floor. The table around me grows quiet as my friends shoot me quizzical looks, but I ignore them and march towards the handsy woman. This place is so crowded tonight that I have to constantly slip between and around people, and I even jump to the side once when a man nearly steps on my toes. But I finally make my way to the bar, straining to hear their conversation over the sound of honky-tonk music playing directly overhead.
“Maybe I should let you buy me a drink,” she purrs. “What do you say, big guy?”
I roll my eyes before clearing my throat.
Both heads swing around to look at me. Her eyes narrow in irritation while the man’s eyes go round, looking momentarily shocked. I’m not sure what about my sudden appearance is shocking, but I mentally shrug it off. I lean into my role, giving him an easy smile.
“Hey, honey. Sorry I’m late,” I croon. He’s frozen in his seat, blinking at me with wide eyes. My palms grow sweaty as I watch the indecision flicker across his face. Then, to my utter shock and delight, he plays along.
“It’s not polite to keep a man waiting so long, sweetheart.” His voice comes out in a low, deep rumble but I can still hear the tease in his tone. It makes my toes curl in my boots. A smile stretches across my face, and I’m surprised that I don’t even have to fake it. There’s something about his voice and the way he’s looking at me, like he can’t wait to see what I do next. Like he wants to play, despite his best intentions to remain stoic. It sends a giddy thrill through me.
It bolsters my confidence, giving me an extra boost of courage. I lean across the woman like she’s not even there, grab the man’s beer, and take a sip. The woman huffs before eyeing me up and down.
His emerald eyes are lit up now, and he’s pursing his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. Crossing his arms, he arches an eyebrow at me and it sends a swarm of butterflies through my stomach. I blink once before dragging my gaze over to the woman.
“Thank you for keeping him company, but he’s busy now.”
“Excuse me?” The woman crosses her arms, giving me an incredulous expression.
“I can take it from here.”
She looks back and forth between us, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you guys even together?” she asks. “Because if you’re just trying to swoop in and—”
I glare at her then, not holding back an ounce of the crackling-hot irritation inside me. Because it feels surprisingly good, and it makes me feel so much more alive than the grief I’ve been holding onto. Taking a few steps forward, I crowd her space the way she’s been crowding his and stare down my nose at her.
“The gentleman already has company. He isn’t interested in yours.” There’s murmuring around us as heads swing our way. Her cheeks turn a crimson red, her lips twisting down.
“What a fucking bitch.” Her fingers curl into fists as she hisses the insult through clenched teeth. Shooting me one last hateful look, she storms away. There’s a quiet splattering of clapping around us as I turn back to the man.
We’re staring at each other in silence and something about his eyes on me makes my heart pound in my chest. It feels like I’ve met him before—like maybe he’s someone I’ve been looking for. I shake my head, because that can’t be right. I peer down at the cold beer in my hand, the condensation cool on my skin. A flush spreads over my cheeks, and I grimace.
Maybe that was a little dramatic.
“Shit. Right. Sorry about that.” I slide his beer back across the bar. “I’m going to…” I point behind me, toward my friends. “Go back to my table and leave you alone.” He doesn’t reply; he just keeps staring at me in that intense way of his while I pivot on my feet and head back to my own table.
The man obviously wants to drink in peace, and I went over there and called attention to him. I’m just as bad as that woman—
“Do you always do that?” he asks, my heart tripping over itself as I come to a halt.
I peer over my shoulder, my eyebrows slanting down. “Do what?”
He tips his head at me, a light smile playing around his mouth. “Swoop in, save the day, and then float off like nothing happened?”
I turn to face him fully now, a light laugh bubbling out of my throat. Something like relief settles in my stomach. Sliding over so I’m just a little bit closer, I lean my elbow on the bar and give him a casual shrug. My nostrils flare as I get a whiff of Old Spice body wash, the crisp scent making me want to lean in closer.
“I wouldn’t know. It’s not every day I rescue a…mansel in distress,” I reply, giving him a mischievous grin. Surprise lights across his face for a fraction of a second before he bursts out laughing, his head thrown back. My gaze immediately dips down to study the column of his neck while my ears drink in the sound of his guffawing laughter. It sounds rusty, and it makes me wonder if maybe he doesn’t laugh often. There’s a twinkle in his eyes when he looks back at me. It makes me feel like I’m floating.
“Mansel? Is that a play on damsel?”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping my voice into a stage-whisper. “Don’t tell Webster’s Dictionary, but I just made it up on the spot.” When his eyes dart down to my lips, a scattering of goosebumps pop up along my arms.
“You’re a mouthy little menace, aren’t you?” he asks. His voice is deadpan, but he’s gifting me with another dazzling grin. “You might as well join me since you’ve already staked your claim,” he says, shooting me a wink. He pulls out the stool right next to him, tugging it back until it’s almost nestled right against his thigh. Then he motions to the seat with an expectant look. I bite my lip.
“Well? Are you going to make me beg?”
“I would never,” I say, pretending to gasp in mock horror as I take the seat. When I feel the warmth of his thigh pressing against mine, I don’t pull away.
“That’s a shame,” he murmurs, his voice huskier now. Being this close to him, it’s so much easier to take in all the little details I missed before. His muscles and physique suggest that he’s the kind of man who works a physically demanding job—his strength looks like it comes naturally, not from the gym. His shoulders are broad, leading my eyes to dip down to corded forearms and large hands.
“You’re actually really attractive,” I blurt out, the words just spewing out like word vomit. The man freezes, and I stiffen. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that —well, I meant—” I say, stumbling over my words before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, when you’re actually smiling and not sitting there like Oscar the Grouch.”
The man grins at me, and I groan.
“That didn’t come out any better, did it?” I mumble.
He chuckles. “What’s your name?”
I inhale sharply, my eyes flying down to watch his thumb draw circles on the back of my hand. I swallow as my pulse picks up. It feels…nice.
“Maddison Raddix. But my friends call me Maddie.” My voice comes out breathless, and his eyes darken.
“I’m so glad I met you, Maddie. My name is Jax Parker.”
His rough fingers trail down my arm, pausing at the surgical scar that runs the length of my wrist and giving it a look I can’t quite decipher. My heart beats faster, wondering what I’ll say if he asks where it came from. But he doesn’t pry. He merely locks eyes with me, where I’m perched on his lap within the cramped space of his truck, before bringing my wrist to his mouth and pressing his lips to the puckered skin.
They are soft and warm.
“Is this still okay?” he asks, his hand releasing my wrist to slide down my torso. I nod, blinking lazily as I arch into his touch. Both of his hands slip under the fabric of my clothing, pulling the dark-green sweater dress up to my hips. His massive hands clasp onto each side, pulling me down and grinding me onto his erection. I gasp because, even through his jeans, it feels impressive.
“You’re so hard,” I whisper.
If stating the obvious was an Olympic sport, I would be a gold medalist.
I expect him to laugh, but he growls instead, and it sends a shudder down my spine. Arousal seeps into the cotton of my panties as he continues rocking me, the warmth of his breath tickling my neck.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his teeth nipping my ear while I clutch his shoulders for support. “Knowing I’m so hard for you that I couldn’t even take you to a real bed. I had to drag you out to my truck like a horny teenager because I can’t keep my hands off you.” My eyes flutter closed, and I nod. Then his hands trail up my stomach, dip into my bra, and cup my heavy breasts. Pulling the front of my dress down so my breasts pop out, he leans forward and takes a nipple in his mouth. He sucks on the hardened peak while his other hand tweaks the opposite nipple.
Everything inside me is on fire, and I want more .
His mouth pops off my wet nipple, his hands trailing back down my belly and pausing at the waistband of my panties. He tugs on the elastic, and even through the dark, I can see his dilated pupils staring up at me.
“Can I put my hands here, sweetheart?” His tone sounds almost desperate, pleading even. “I just want to make you feel so good.” His words shoot a bolt of lust straight to my core, pulling a whimper from me.
“Please.”
I’ve never felt so out of control as I do now. Like I’ll combust if this man doesn’t make me come. Like I’m dying for him to touch me.
His hand dips inside my panties, and I moan when a finger runs through my wet slit. He hisses out a breath, muttering a quiet curse.
His thumb finds my clit and gives it a gentle swipe. Molten heat bursts through my nerves, and I jerk forward on a cry. He does it again, his chest heaving up and down.
“Please,” I cry, rocking my hips forward.
“God, look at you,” he croons. “Gonna be a wild, needy little thing, aren’t you? Are you going to come on my fingers, Maddie?”
The heat intensifies as I lean further into his touch. My heart pounds wildly as I reach that invisible edge. I’m just right there and I’m going to—
There’s a light knocking at the window that momentarily sends my heart rate soaring as we both jump. He utters a string of vicious curses as his hands quickly leave my panties and pull up the front of my dress until I’m completely covered again. With one hand on my hip, he uses the other to roll down the passenger side window.
I nearly shrivel in place at the sight of the police officer while Jax gives him a dark look.
“What?” he barks.
“Howdy, folks. Sorry to bother—” The officer, an older man with graying hair at his temples, pauses when his gaze lands on me. His head tilts to the side, and he takes a step back. “Is that little Maddison Raddix?”
Kill me now.
Then his gaze flits over to Jax, squinting to see through the dark interior before his mouth drops open. “Jax Parker?”
Me and Jax both give each other confused looks before blurting out the same question. “You know him?”
“I hate to break up this party, but y’all can’t be doing this in the parking lot,” he says, before giving me a pointed look. “Your aunt is gonna be wondering where you are. You need to be gettin’ home.”
I cringe, knowing Aunt Charlotte might actually be waiting up for me. I’ve been back home on Christmas break for a few weeks now, and I don’t typically stay out this late.
Still beneath me, Jax’s entire body tenses. His knuckles latch onto the door as he stares up at me, looking at me with a deer in the headlights expression that borders on panic. “How old are you?” he asks. All of a sudden, he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. It makes my stomach drop.
“I’m nineteen!” I scowl at Duncan, the police officer who used to be my dad’s best friend. He only gives me a pitying look. Throwing the truck door open, I climb off Jax and hop back onto the ground. When I look at him, Jax is still sitting there with a stunned expression.
“Thank fuck,” he mutters through gritted teeth, running a hand through his hair. “Scared me there for a minute.”
But when he climbs out of the truck, he still won’t look at me. He stares at his feet, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly remind me of a kicked puppy?
“Jax, I—”
“Sorry, Duncan, I didn’t know. It won’t happen again,” Jax says, still refusing to look at me.
My mood plummets, the high I was riding from earlier gone. I’m not ready to go back home to the dark house that doesn’t actually feel like home because they aren’t there anymore.
I give Jax a pleading look. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m twenty-nine years old, sweetheart. I’m almost thirty and you’re barely an adult,” he says softly, finally looking at me.
I shake my head. Does he really think I care? “That doesn’t matter,” I protest. Behind me, I think I hear Duncan sigh.
Jax gives me a pained expression before swallowing. “It matters to me.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I open my mouth to protest again but stop when Duncan’s gentle hand clasps my elbow.
“Come on, Maddie, I’ll give you a ride home.”
Suddenly, an icy breeze sweeps past us. It ruffles my hair, steals my breath, and makes me realize how chilled I am. Reluctantly following Duncan to his cruiser, I wait while he opens the passenger door so I can get in. I’m still shivering, even as a blast of warm heat shoots from the air vents. Duncan is silent as he pulls out onto the road. My eyes are glued to the side mirror, watching as Jax’s gaze follows the cruiser.
Just before we disappear from sight, his shoulders slump.
“Why did you do that?” I ask Duncan, hating how petulant my voice sounds. I know it’s not really a fair question.
“I’m just trying to watch out for you, Maddie.” There’s a moment of silence while he turns on his blinker and makes a right-hand turn. “Your parents wouldn’t want you out at the bars, running around with a man that much older than you.”
“Yeah, well, they aren’t here to stop me, are they?” I snap, immediately regretting the harsh words as a sour bile churns in my stomach. Putting my hand on my forehead, I close my eyes and rest my head against the window. “I didn’t mean that,” I mutter, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“I know.” Duncan’s voice is gentle, like he’s talking to a fragile thing.
“How do you know Jax?” I would much rather think about him.
“He’s a volunteer fireman. Works a couple shifts down at the station every month. His dad used to be the captain before he passed.”
Fuck.
There’s that word.
Passed.
Like one day, someone’s life just gently winks out of existence.
People like to use that word when they talk about my parents—like their lives weren’t viciously pulled away from me in the most senseless accident ever.
Guess that’s something Jax and I have in common, knowing what it’s like to live without one or both of our parents.
When my eyes open again, I stare at the piles of blindingly white snow that lay on either side of the road. That’s part of why I didn’t want to come out tonight. I can’t look at the piles of the deceptively calm fluff without fighting back a panic attack. But, for a while, he made me forget.
With his full attention on me, the world felt invincible for a moment.
Like my parents weren’t taken from me by a patch of ice on the road that none of us noticed until it was too late.
My vision blurs with tears I refuse to shed right now.
Instead, I close my eyes and imagine what could have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.