Chapter Fourteen
Maddie
Thankfully, the guys all eat in silence, leaving me to my TV show and food in peace.
It’s the first time today that I don’t feel like I’m going insane, the brief trip to the rink doing very little to soothe all my woes.
In fact, I’m pretty sure it only made things worse.
If anything, it definitely made me realize I shouldn’t have crawled my sorry ass out of bed this morning.
I should have had a lazy day in bed, blissfully unaware of all things frosty and eyebrow-splitting.
It certainly would have been safer for every single one of my body parts, that’s for damn sure.
As soon as I’ve finished the last morsel of food and placed the empty plate on the coffee table, I slowly slip into a food coma that will certainly take me out until morning.
Feeling full, warm, and comfortable, I sink deeper into the couch, accidentally bumping shoulders with Baxter as he sits to my right and knocking a knee against Ryan’s, who still sits at my left.
Caiden and Rayne have taken up spots on the other side of my large L-shaped couch, sprawled out like they own the place.
Lucky. I barely have enough room to sprawl with Bax and Ry taking up most of the space.
It doesn’t matter, though. I’m too comfortable to actually care, crossing my arms over my chest as I start to blink real slow at the twins boning one another next to their dead son’s corpse.
Snorting at the absurdity that is this entire show, I hook my hood over my head and tuck my mouth into the collar, effectively hiding a yawn that stretches my jaw wide enough to ache.
All the carbs and chaos have finally caught up to me and, despite the alcohol-induced rest I had, I find myself more than willing to slip straight back into la-la land.
Before I do, however, I mumble, “Thanks, by the way.”
I don’t receive a reply for a long moment, and I wonder if they’ve all fallen asleep before me. Alas, it would seem I’m the only one who actually cherishes sleep, because Caiden suddenly asks, “What for, Blue?”
He sounds wide awake, like he’s downed at least five energy drinks and had a shot of adrenaline.
I peek one eye open, not entirely sure when they closed to begin with, and find him watching me with an adorably tilted head that reminds me of a puppy.
That’s what Caiden reminds me of. A cute, hyperactive puppy. I’m not even mad about it.
I smile into the collar of my hoodie, closing my eye once more just as another yawn hits, and answer him, “For thinking quickly on your feet. I appreciate you guys playing along in front of Tobe the Chode. He never would have left otherwise. Or he would have, but I guarantee he would have returned with a camping chair for comfort. So, thank you. For going with the flow.”
A bump of a shoulder to my right makes me smile through another yawn, and Bax says, “Anytime, Mads.”
Chuckling drowsily, I mutter under my breath, “Who knew vagina-burning lube would bring cool neighbors?”
Pretty sure I hear a round of snickers, but I’m too far gone in my coma to focus on anything but slipping into a deep, blissful sleep.
Could that be considered a stupid thing to do with four relative strangers lounging around in my apartment?
Sure, but the way I see it, they’ve had ample opportunity to kill me if they really wanted to.
Hell, I was wedged in a tub and in a prime killing position during our very first encounter.
Something tells me I’m in safe hands with my new neighbors.
And so, content in the knowledge that I won’t be murdered tonight, I allow myself to drift off to sleep, not hearing a single word that might be spoken to me after my shared gratitude.
I’ll simply trust the guys to shut the door on their way out when they decide to leave, falling asleep warm, comfortable, and strangely at peace, surrounded by four gorgeous men who’ve officially seen me at my worst.
***
The following morning brings beaming sunshine through my living room windows, warmth from the two blankets that have been tucked all around me, and a rumbling stomach that would make anyone believe I hadn’t eaten a small mound of takeout last night.
With a pang of surprise and a sprinkle of disappointment, I wake alone, the spots that had previously been occupied by four gorgeous men now empty.
Maybe that’s for the best, because heaven knows I need some time to myself.
I need at least several hours to recuperate after the mayhem that was yesterday, providing my body and mind the necessary time to recover before facing my new neighbors.
Blowing out a deep breath, I untangle myself from my burrito-like state and shuffle to the bathroom, going about my business before showering and dressing for the day.
Since I plan to go absolutely nowhere, remaining securely in what should be the safety of my own home since not even makeup will cover the disaster my face has become, I opt for a pair of comfy white shorts and an oversized black-and-white jersey with only knee-high socks as added accessories.
Ready to start the day, I go in search of my cell phone, finding it wedged in the couch cushions. My first call of the day is to Mom, who answers after only two rings as though she was simply waiting on someone to call.
“Hey, baby. You’re awake early.”
“Hey, Mama,” I greet, smiling at the soft, honey-like tone of her voice. The woman is famous for that voice, her acting skills secondary to the way she could talk a controller out of a gamer’s hands. “What are you up to?”
“Just sitting in glam while your aunties doll me up for our promo shoot,” she answers with a chuckle that warms my heart, reminding me about the show she’s been filming for the past several months.
I can picture her smile now, the faint creases around her eyes that display a life of laughter and joy, her full lips tugged into a sunshine smile that reveals the straight white teeth I was blessed to inherit.
“Anyway, what has my little love bug awake so early? I thought you said you weren’t due back to work for a few days.
We’re still on for our spa day before you head back, right? ”
“Ah, about that,” I wince, pulling my cell away from my ear and transferring the call from audio to video.
Mom accepts straightaway, and not a second later, she gasps hard enough that I’m sure she’s vacuumed the air straight out of her dressing room.
I’m wincing even harder as I watch her slap a hand over her prettily made-up face, her ruby-red lips parted in horror before they’re hidden beneath her palm.
Wide pale-blue eyes that match mine to perfection widen in disbelief, and I know right then that the bruising is much worse than I was willing to admit.
And, trust me, I already knew it was bad.
My mother’s reaction, however, has highlighted my dire need to remain indoors for however long it will take for the bruising to go down. How long even is that? A week? Two weeks? Would concealer even cover this thing?
Cringing at my mom’s reaction, I admit, “So, I might have had a little accident yesterday at the rink.”
“Little? Baby, what the hell happened to you? It looks like you’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson and lost each one,” Mom rushes, the makeup artist and hairstylist, both of whom are Mom’s best friends and my only aunties, checking my face with equal amounts of horror.
“Oh, sweet girl,” Olya sighs, chuckling under her breath as she shakes her head, sending her pretty copper hair swishing over her shoulder like she’s in a commercial for a top shampoo brand or something.
“That’s a shiner,” Bea deduces sympathetically, dark-brown eyes that beautifully suit her russet skin tone sparkling with amusement, right before she goes back to curling my mom’s honey-blond hair that is nothing like my natural color.
Of course, there’s no concern with my two aunties, because each of them is more than used to the bedlam I bring to their lives.
They’ve been Mom’s trusty sidekicks, loyal through and through, and have been there through every phase of my life.
From cute and adorable, to awkward and lanky, to grown and too outgoing for my own good, Olya and Bea have practically helped Mom and Dad raise me.
Clearing my throat, I start my explanation with, “Okay, you have to promise me that you won’t kill him, because it was actually my fault. Not that I’ll admit that to him, but you can’t tell him that.”
“Madison,” Mom warns with an effective use of my government name, pretty blues shining with both annoyance and amusement, never truly able to be angry with me. After all, I’m her only child, and she loves me deeply, fiercely, and sometimes scarily. I love it.
Chuckling nervously, I blurt, “Uncle Mack was at the rink and said something goofy that made me lose my balance when I was on the ice. I just so happened to be brandishing a hockey stick at the time, because I was goofing off with Morgs and his team. The hockey stick hit my face after I hit the deck, and this happened.”
I point at my face, just in case she doesn’t know it’s the big, mottled bruise I’m referring to.
It’s not like she could miss it, and the unimpressed stare I receive in response tells me I’m walking a fine line.
I mean, the most she’ll do when annoyed is tell my dad, and that man is softer with me than she is.
It’s truly no wonder I grew up to be who I am now, with parents like them.
The two celebrities with hearts as soft as marshmallows raising a rambunctious, extroverted, slightly bonkers kid who is bold in most aspects of life?
Well, I’m not sure what they expected, but I’m sure they never could have anticipated me.