Chapter 3
Maddox
“So, you want to tell me what that was all about?” Mason at least waits until we’re in the elevator before he starts questioning me about what just happened in his office.
I was shocked as hell to discover his new VP is the girl I spent that amazing night with.
The one I still think about now whenever the moon is full and low in the sky.
The one I remember every time I make that Moroccan lamb Mason loves so much.
“You mean Ellie?”
“No, I mean you saying hello to Deborah. Of course I mean Ellie.”
“I told you,” I say, shrugging. Trying to appear nonchalant. “We met while I was traveling.”
Mason gives me a sideways look that tells me he’s not buying it.
“You met a lot of people when you were traveling, Mad. But the way you were looking at her, the way you held on to her hand, I felt like I should leave the fucking room, bro. Do you have a thing for my marketing VP? Because she’s damn good at her job and I don’t want to lose her. ”
“No,” I scoff. “I do not have a ‘thing’ for her. Anyhow, I don’t work for you, bro. Even if I did have a thing for her, it would be none of your fucking business.”
I sound annoyed. I am annoyed, or at least unsettled.
I rarely lose my cool like this, and Mason glares at me as the elevator takes us down to the lobby.
He stays silent for a moment, then face palms. “Aw shit…Don’t tell me she was one of the women you slept with while you were whoring your way around Africa and Europe? ”
“Hey,” I warn, feeling the irritation prickling beneath my skin like a heat rash.
“Hey yourself. Those were your exact words, Mad. I didn’t make them up, that’s how you described it.”
I grunt. He’s right, I know he is. That’s part of the reason why I’m irritated, and it’s most of the reason why I’m celibate. I hated that version of me. He was an out-of-control douchebag. It was one of the many ways I tried to escape the darkness inside me.
If that version had met Ellie six months before I did, I would have for sure taken her to bed after dinner.
I’d have taken what she offered, fucked her all night, and then again in the morning.
And it would have meant nothing to me, no matter how terrific she was, because I was in no fit state to form any kind of relationship.
I shared some of that with her during our amazing conversation that night.
I told her I was a work in progress, that I was finding my way towards healing.
I didn’t tell her about the celibacy, though, because that’s a huge buzzkill, and truthfully kind of hard to explain.
I enjoyed talking to her, flirting with her, the little zing of sensation every time we accidentally touched.
It was somehow innocent, even more intimate because it didn’t end with the predictable fucking. It was special.
“Earth to Maddox,” Mason says, using a fake over-the-intercom voice. “Come in, Maddox.”
“No, she wasn’t,” I snap back. “I met Ellie after I became celibate, okay?”
“Okay.” Mason’s brow is furrowed in suspicion as we step out of the elevator. “Fine. So what was with the gooey eyes back there?”
“I did not have gooey eyes, dickface,” I insist.
“Methinks you protest too much,” he mumbles.
“I fucking heard that, Mase.”
“You were meant to, jackass. It was a stage whisper.” He winks at me.
Now I really do feel like a jackass. He’s not asking about all of this because he’s worried about losing his VP, no matter how good she is. He’s asking because he knows me, he saw how I reacted to her, and he loves me. Under all the banter, he’s worried.
We walk out into the crisp winter air, Mason nodding to various employees as we go.
Elijah is the brain behind Jamestech, taking our Dad’s already-successful company and transforming it into the giant it is today.
But despite his business acumen, I often think that Mason is its heart.
He can be a ruthless bastard when he needs to be, but he genuinely cares about the people who work for him. Like Ellie.
“Walk or cab?” he asks. “And how badly am I gonna want a burger after this lunch?”
“Walk,” I reply. “And if you’re still hungry afterwards, I’ll take you for a steak, okay?”
“A big juicy one with all the trimmings?”
“Whatever you say, Mase. It’s a few blocks away though. You fit enough to make it there without a driver? You’re getting kind of fat since you settled down, dude.”
He pretends to look offended, his hand going to his perfectly flat stomach. My brother is in great shape, but it’s fun to press his buttons.
“No way. King might feed me well, but we exercise together. A lot.”
I laugh, because I don’t doubt that for a second, even if it’s not in the traditional sense. My big brother is happier than I’ve ever seen him, and that in turn makes me happy.
“You still going to the group?” I ask, as we make our way through the crowds. He nods. “Yeah, every now and then. I mean, I don’t need it as much, but it still helps, you know? It’s not like you’re ever completely fixed, is it?”
“Nope,” I reply. “None of us are. But as long as we’re not completely broken either, then we’re winning.”
Mason was the victim of a sexual assault when he was a teenager.
It’s a grim, upsetting story for lots of different reasons, but he’s put in the work.
He’s had therapy and joined a support group for survivors that I suggested.
He knows now that he’s not alone, which always helps.
I think he finally also understands why I still go to my meetings.
I might be sober, drug-free, and celibate, but that doesn’t mean I’m free of my demons.
They’re still nearby, lurking in the shadows, and going to my meetings ensures that I see them.
That I’m not fooled just because they’ve gone quiet.
We chat as we walk, discussing his dogs, our brothers’ kids, Dad.
Shooting the shit, catching up. It’s small talk, but it’s big, because it’s the small stuff that keeps me grounded.
The everyday joys and victories of a life lived clean.
I like seeing the world with clear eyes, not through a drug-fueled haze or from the bottom of a tequila bottle.
It also means I can remember everything from my more recent past far more vividly. Including that night with Ellie.
We reach the café, a tiny place tucked away in a small street on the border between Hell’s Kitchen and Midtown. It’s in a prime spot but never feels too crowded. I stop outside, peering through the steamed-up window. “What do you think?” I ask Mason.
He shrugs. “It looks warm inside. Shall we, you know, go in? Or are they just gonna throw the mung beans out through the window so we can catch them like seals with fish? God, what I’d give for some raw fish right now.”
I shake my head and go inside. The owner, Sally, greets me with a hug, and I drop a kiss on her silver bun. She seats us and brings us both drinks. Green tea for me and a wheatgrass smoothie for Mason. He sniffs it suspiciously. “What the fuck? I don’t get to even choose?”
“Nah. It’s one of the quirks of the place. Sally brings you what she thinks you need.”
He sips his drink, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah? And she thinks I need a colonic irrigation, does she?”
“She’s probably right. Look, just try and enjoy it, okay? I really like this place.”
He senses that I mean it and reins in his banter.
That’s the thing about Mason and me. We know when to push and when to pause.
He looks around, taking in the décor and the clientele.
“It’s kind of cute,” he admits. “Has a bit of a seventies flower-power feel. Except less California and more of a freezing-your-ass-off, east coast vibe.” Then his mouth quirks into a devilish grin. “So. Ellie.”
I shake my head and glance away. Damn. I should have known he wouldn’t let it go that easily. And really, what do I have to hide? For once I did nothing I was ashamed of. I stuck by my principles, and I acted like a gentleman.
So why does this still feel uncomfortable? I remind myself of some of the lessons I’ve learned at my meetings. About facing up to things that make me squirm. They’re usually the things you need to drag out from under their rocks and deal with directly, bringing them into the light.
I sigh, squeezing the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
This is Mason. He’s a safe space. “We went out, okay. In Marrakech. We had a good time. Actually, no, we had an incredible time. We stayed up until the sunrise just talking, and it was…” I swallow down the unexpected knot of sadness that sticks in my throat, “it was fucking magical actually, Mase.”
His face turns serious when he realizes I’m not playing around, and he rests a hand on my arm. “So what happened, buddy?”
“I met her the day before I was due to leave. If I’d been there longer, who knows?
The timing wasn’t great in all kinds of ways.
So, I was flying out, but before I went to the airport, I went to her hostel to look for her.
The place I walked her back to the night before—well, a few hours before.
I’d gone to the hotel already, showered, grabbed my bags.
I wanted to at least swap numbers with her, you know? Stay in touch.”
Fuck, this is harder than I thought. Why? Why does it still matter? It was one small rejection. It shouldn’t still hurt so much.
“I found one of her travel buddies there, and she told me Ellie had gone out for the day, on a trip up into the mountains. Thing is, I knew she was lying. I’d only left her there a couple hours earlier, and at no point did she mention any trip. She just didn’t want to see me, I guess.”
I shrug, trying to shake off the memory.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but after the way we talked, and how vulnerable we both were, I thought I was at least worth a goodbye.
That we could be friends, at least, and maybe—at some point down the road, depending on how life turned out—maybe even more.
I thought she wanted that too. She’d invited me up to her room the night before, and it was so sweet, the way she blushed and stammered, hiding behind that curtain of curls.
Like she’d never spoken to a guy before.
I wasn’t arrogant enough to think she was inviting me up there for sex, but I said no anyway.
I was early on in my celibacy, and I didn’t quite trust myself around her.
“That doesn’t sound like Ellie,” Mason says, frowning.
Though whether he’s frowning at what I just told him, or at the aggressively healthy food on his plate, I have no clue.
“I mean, to have someone lie for her.” He squeezes my forearm.
“Not that I don’t believe you, bro. She just doesn’t strike me as that kind of person, at least not now. ”
“Yeah, well, people change. And I’m sure she had her reasons. Any more questions?”
Fuck, I hope not. This trip down memory lane is shaking me up more than I’d like.
I had intended to talk to Mason about this place and my plans for it.
But now, all I can think about is Ellie.
About her untamable curls and curves like a back road.
Her sensational blue eyes. The way her hand felt in mine.
The hurt I felt when she dodged me in Marrakech.
“Yeah,” says Mason. “I have another question. What the fuck is this?”
He holds up his fork, and I grin. “It’s asparagus, bro. It’s good for you. Just shut the fuck up and put it in your mouth.”
He smirks. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
I shake my head. Mason-fucking-James. Billionaire, businessman, boyfriend, my big brother. With a sense of humor a teenager would be proud of. I couldn’t love him more if I tried.