19. Phantom of the Past
Phantom of the Past
Ari
Asher, Otto, and Maddox are all gone when I meander into the kitchen the next morning, the house quieter than it’s been since we arrived.
According to Hannah, Maddox and Otto are working out.
And Asher?
He’s dealing with a work thing on the computer in the home office just off the kitchen. The door is closed, so I can’t see him, but I can hear him speaking to someone on a video call.
He’s yelling, so I know it’s not a good call.
Hannah sighs as she pours herself more coffee, her fingers drumming against the side of her mug. She looks like she wants to say something, but I don’t press her.
I pull a cup from the cupboard, deliberately not asking. Because it’s not my problem. Then again, I’m technically dating one of her sons and messing around with the other.
God, I’m so fucked up.
I glance toward the back patio, where the faint clink of weights echoes from the home gym outside.
Maddox.
I swallow hard, turning back to my brewing coffee.
“I hope everything’s okay with Asher and his work,” I say casually.
“Me too,” she says quietly. “Sounds like a big deal. Something about his firm’s sensitive client information being hacked. Millions of dollars are at risk, apparently.”
“That sucks,” I say, taking a seat next to her.
She shakes off her worried expression. “So, are you having a good time, Ari?”
I nod enthusiastically. “I am. It’s beautiful here.”
“It is.” She sets her coffee mug down and clears her throat. “Asher works too much, doesn’t he?”
I huff a laugh. “I’m used to it.”
Hannah studies me for a moment, something warm and knowing in her gaze. Then, she sighs, picking up her coffee mug again. “You know, sweetheart… you deserve someone who makes time for you. Who puts you first.”
I blink, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation.
“We love Asher,” she continues, her voice careful, measured. “He’s always been driven. Focused. But… well, relationships need more than just good intentions.” She takes a sip, her eyes soft as they meet mine. “We like you, Ari. And we would understand if—” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “If it ever felt like too much. If you ever needed more than what he’s willing to give.”
A sharp pang twists in my chest.
I force a small smile, ducking my head. “It’s not like that. I know Asher cares about me in his own way.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I feel the lie settle heavily between us. Because it is like that. Maybe it always has been. I’ve just never had anyone else to show me the difference.
Not until Maddox.
I feel like I’m standing at a cliff’s edge, too scared to jump, too ashamed to admit I already have.
But what am I supposed to say to Hannah? That the problem isn’t just Asher’s distance or his busy schedule, but that I’ve already let someone else touch parts of me Asher never has? That I wanted her other son? That I want Maddox, not Asher?
“I have no doubt that he cares about you,” she agrees easily. “But words and effort aren’t always the same thing.”
Something heavy settles in my stomach.
Before I can respond, another voice cuts through the air. “Interesting conversation,” Maddox drawls, stepping into the kitchen, his blue eyes locking on to mine. “What are we discussing?”
Hannah sighs but doesn’t say anything. She just gives me a look. One I can’t quite decipher.
Maddox smirks, but I ignore the way he’s looking at me.
“I was thinking we could go to the Santa Monica Pier today,” Hannah suggests, changing the subject again before winking at me.
I nod, forcing a smile, but my stomach still feels unsettled. Hannah’s words latch on to something inside me, something I don’t want to examine too closely. But before I can dwell on it, Asher enters the kitchen, already dressed in a crisp button-down, checking his phone like the conversation in the room doesn’t exist.
“I’ll drive,” he says absentmindedly. “I need to take a call on the way.”
Maddox chuckles under his breath. “Of course you do.”
I glance between them, but Asher doesn’t seem to notice the jab. He just grabs his coffee and takes another call on his cell as he walks out of the room, already distracted.
Hannah leaves, presumably to get ready.
Maddox’s gaze flicks to mine, and that smirk tugs at his lips again. “You heard my mother,” he murmurs. “You deserve better.”
Heat flushes up my neck, and I push past him, rolling my eyes as I head upstairs to get ready.
* * *
The sun glows warm over the pier, casting long shadows across the boardwalk. The air is thick with the scent of sea salt, fried food, and sugar—funnel cakes, cotton candy, caramel corn. A rush of nostalgia washes over me. I haven’t been here since I was a kid, and for a second, I let myself enjoy it. The chaos, the color, the buzzing crowd of people, the street performers, the flashing arcade games, the spinning neon rides… the sounds of laughter and crashing waves blending together into the perfect cacophony of summertime.
Hannah, Maddox, and Otto walk ahead, pointing at different food stands while Asher hangs back with me, already on another call. His fingers loosely lace with mine, and despite being in a romantic spot, this feels so unromantic.
I’m restless. Uneasy. Every time I look at Maddox, I feel something coiling tighter inside me. The shadow of last night lingers on my skin—the way he touched me, the way he made me fall apart. And the worst part?
I’m starting to crave him.
I don’t want to care, don’t want to acknowledge the ache of it. But I can’t help it.
And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Not the craving itself, but the lack of guilt.
I’m walking hand in hand with Asher, our fingers entwined, and all I can think about is another man’s mouth on my body. His voice in my ear. His scent still lingering on my skin.
Shouldn’t I feel sick with shame? Shouldn’t I feel ruined by it?
Of course there’s guilt. A low, constant hum beneath my ribs. But it’s not for what I did; it’s for what I let fade into complacency. Isn’t that what Frankie said? That I was just with Asher because it was easy?
Two years, that’s how long I’ve been with Asher. That’s how long I’ve spent telling myself this is what stability looks like. That love means compromise. That I didn’t need fireworks, just consistency.
But Maddox?
Maddox is a maelstrom of fire and electricity.
For the first time, I’ve been shown what’s possible—and how it should feel when you’re fully, sexually satisfied.
I’ve never gotten off without helping. I always have to use my hands, or a toy.
But that’s twice now that Maddox has made me come all by himself.
The worst part—the part I’m still trying to make peace with—is that I feel more seen in five minutes with Maddox than I have in two years with the man I thought I’d eventually marry.
What does that say about me?
I thought I was building a future with Asher. I thought I knew the shape of what my life would hold. There were the soft edges of his routine. The predictability of his life, his ambition, his expectations. But now, I’m wondering if I’ve been shrinking quietly for months, tucking away pieces of myself just to keep things peaceful. Just to keep him from leaving.
I should walk away from Maddox. I should breathe, regroup, figure out what the hell I’m doing.
But all I want to do is go back to last night and let him ruin me again.
We stop near the entrance to the Ferris wheel, one of the pier’s biggest attractions. A soft ocean breeze rolls in, cooler than the heat of the afternoon sun.
“Who’s riding with who?” Otto asks, eyeing the winding line.
Hannah loops her arm through his. “We’ll go together.”
Maddox exhales through his nose, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll skip this one,” he mutters, almost like an afterthought. His gaze flicks toward the towering Ferris wheel, and for the first time, I see something unreadable flicker across his expression.
“You don’t like heights?” I ask, tilting my head.
His jaw hardens. “I like being in control of my surroundings.”
The words are quiet, almost lost in the chatter of the boardwalk, but they land heavier than they should. Something tightens in my chest.
I glance at Asher, already anticipating that he’ll be the one in the seat beside me. He hangs up his phone and grins down at me.
“You’re with me,” he says, his voice soft, smiling as he rests his hand on the small of my back.
I don’t miss the way Maddox’s jaw tics, and his eyes flick to where Asher’s hand is on my back.
I nod at Asher and swallow, suddenly feeling guilty about… everything.
I’m not a cheater. I don’t cross lines. I don’t betray the people I love.
So why does my stomach twist with something dangerously close to regret?
Why does my skin still tingle where Maddox touched me? Why can I still feel the weight of his body on top of mine, his scent wrapping around me like a second skin?
I swallow hard, forcing myself to smile at Asher as he leads me toward the Ferris wheel. This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
To be safe. Secure . With someone predictable.
But… why does it feel like something inside me is unraveling?
Asher’s phone rings, and he gives me a small, regretful smile. A work call, then. He looks at the screen, grimaces, but for once, he doesn’t immediately answer.
I barely notice, too lost in my thoughts, eyes tracking the slow turn of the Ferris wheel ahead. We’re only a couple groups away from the front of the line now.
When the phone rings again—sharp, persistent—he curses under his breath. This time, he doesn’t hesitate.
“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he says, already stepping away. “Go ahead and ride without me, okay? I’ll meet you guys after.”
I stiffen. “Wait, but?—”
“Sorry, babe,” he calls over his shoulder, phone pressed to his ear. “I won’t be long.”
And just like that, I’m left standing there, my chest aching.
A presence shifts beside me.
Maddox.
I don’t have to look to know he’s watching me.
“Guess that means you’re with me, angel.”
My stomach clenches.
Before I can argue, Hannah is already ushering us toward the line. “Go, go. It’ll be fun!”
I glare at Maddox as we step forward, but he doesn’t smirk this time. His usual easy arrogance is absent, replaced by something more controlled, more calculated. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked tight.
Not fear, exactly. But something close.
As if he’s forcing himself to do this.
As if being trapped in a small, swaying gondola, suspended high above the pier, is the last thing he wants.
But when he catches me watching him, his mask slips back into place. The smirk returns, slow and deliberate.
Like this was inevitable.
Like I’m the only thing keeping him from turning around.
A minute later, we climb into the small gondola, and the safety bar locks in place across our laps. The Ferris wheel lurches forward, slow and steady, lifting us high above the pier.
Maddox shifts beside me, and suddenly, I’m hyperaware of everything.
His scent hits me first: clean soap, leather, and something darker that curls low in my stomach. His arm brushes against mine, a seemingly accidental touch, but the heat of it is scorching. It spreads beneath my skin like wildfire, making every inch of me tense and overly aware.
I keep my eyes on the view, but all I can feel is him.
It’s barely noticeable at first—a subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his hands flex against his thighs. But when we climb higher, the wheel rocking slightly with the wind, I feel it again. His chest rises and falls a little too fast, his knuckles paling against the metal bar.
The tightness in his posture.
The long, deep, steadying breaths.
Maddox Cross isn’t afraid of anything.
But this? This unsettles him.
The view is breathtaking—the vast sprawl of the ocean, the golden sand stretching along the coast. But all I can feel is the heat of Maddox beside me.
I keep my gaze forward, arms crossed tight.
“You’re mad,” he muses, voice low, edged with amusement.
“I’m not mad.”
“You are.”
“I just—” I exhale sharply, hating how unsettled I feel. “It’s not a big deal. I just… thought I was riding with Asher.”
Maddox chuckles, deep and low, but there’s something forced about it. “Thought you’d be safer with him, huh?”
My pulse jumps.
That’s not it. Not even close.
The truth is, I wanted Asher to show up for me for once. I wanted the Ferris wheel, the sun, the stupid photos, and the lazy kisses at the top like something out of a cliché date. I wanted a memory with him.
I swallow hard, blinking out at the ocean as disappointment presses heavy on my chest.
But Maddox watches me like he already knows all of it. Like I’m transparent, easy to read. Like he knows it’s not about safety at all—it’s about me still clinging to the hope that Asher might finally make me feel like I come first.
The gondola sways slightly as the wheel stops to let passengers off below. Maddox’s jaw tightens. His fingers grip the edge of his seat, just for a second, before he releases.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” he says, tipping his head slightly, his blue eyes sharp, assessing. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, black pants, and a black leather jacket that looks way too fucking good on him.
I stiffen.
Of course he noticed that I spent my morning on the beach with my Kindle. And any waking moment as far from him as possible.
“You think ignoring me is going to change anything?” he continues.
The gondola sways again, and I see it this time—the way his body goes rigid for half a second. The way he exhales slowly, like he’s forcing himself to stay relaxed.
Maddox Cross, unshakable ex-Marine, doesn’t just not like heights. He’s terrified.
The realization catches me off guard, and I study him out of the corner of my eye.
I swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maddox smirks, but he doesn’t push it. He just watches me, something knowing in his gaze.
A gust of wind rolls through, chilling my bare arms. I’d pulled on the new pair of jeans and a cropped t-shirt earlier because it was warm and sunny, but now that we’re so high up, it’s much colder. Plus, the fog is beginning to roll in.
I shiver before I can stop myself.
Maddox notices. Of course he does. Before I can react, he shrugs off his leather jacket.
“Here,” he murmurs, leaning forward and draping it over my shoulders.
I freeze. “I don’t need it,” I say, but I don’t move to take it off.
“I don’t care,” he murmurs, his voice a slow, dark promise. His fingers brush the collar, a deliberate, possessive touch. “Let me take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of.”
My breath catches. Maddox watches me, his fingers still lingering near the collar of the jacket, his blue eyes flicking over my face like he’s memorizing every reaction. But when the wheel creaks and sways again, he shifts, rolling his jaw. He glances out at the open air around us before looking back at me.
Something shifts between us.
A pull. A weight.
And then my phone buzzes. I flinch, fumbling to pull it out of my pocket. A message from Frankie.
Frankie
Look at this!
(Linked article) Justice or Revenge? Maddox Cross: The Man Behind the Most Controversial Case of the Decade
I swallow hard, my fingers hovering over the screen as I glance at the headline of the article she just sent me. I quickly type out a reply. I’d kept her apprised of the situation—minus the midnight rendezvous—and we’d slowly been going through the hundreds of articles about Maddox. I’d found his wedding photo to Elaine and even her old LiveJournal page.
It felt like a violation, but somehow, I want to know more about her—and him .
Maddox notices the way my whole body tenses. And then he speaks, voice quiet, knowing. “You looked me up, didn’t you?”
My head snaps up, and his eyes are on my phone. Fuck.
I swallow. “I?—”
He smirks. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
My chest squeezes. I don’t answer. Maddox tilts his head slightly, studying me. Then his smirk fades. Just a little.
He’s been so sure the entire trip, and this is the first time I’ve seen anything that resembles vulnerability.
And… I don’t hate it. The idea of him being scared of something—of having a hard past—softens everything between us, and I feel something akin to empathy bloom in my chest.
Or perhaps… affection.
What the hell?
“Lila was four,” he says, voice lower now, rougher. “She was sick for months. They kept denying her treatment.” A beat. A sharp exhale. “She died waiting for an answer.”
I stare at him.
His jaw rolls. “Elaine couldn’t live with it,” he continues, quieter now. “Three weeks after we held our daughter for the last time, she put a bullet in her head.”
My stomach lurches.
Oh my god. It’s a hundred times worse hearing it from him.
For the first time, Maddox isn’t teasing. For the first time, I see something raw in his expression—something heavier, something dangerous in an entirely different way.
A man who lost everything.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s never stopped looking for something to make up for it.
The Ferris wheel jerks slightly as it slows, and Maddox shifts beside me, his knuckles tightening against the metal bar.
This whole ride…
He’s been uncomfortable the entire time, hasn’t he? But not once did he say a word about it. Not once did he let it show.
And suddenly, I remember—he wasn’t even going to ride. He was going to sit it out entirely, being the odd man out.
But the second Asher stepped away and I was left standing there, alone, Maddox didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wordless, taking the empty seat beside me without giving me a choice.
He’d rather face the lurching fear of the Ferris wheel than let me go up alone.
It hits me, sharp and soft all at once.
I swallow, my chest constricting as I glance at him—the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers are gripping the bar, the careful way he keeps his gaze locked ahead. I hadn’t noticed it at first, not with the way he was teasing me, pushing me, watching me like he always does. But now? I see it.
The slight tremor in his fingers. The way his knuckles go taut when the gondola rocks slightly. The way his breath is a fraction slower, more measured, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm.
I frown, shifting slightly in my seat. “Why did you come with me?” I ask softly, keeping my voice even.
Maddox doesn’t look at me right away. His gaze stays fixed on the horizon, the ocean stretching out in an endless sprawl below us. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then his throat bobs, and his fingers flex against his thigh.
“Would’ve been worse watching you go without me,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual.
My chest aches, and warmth floods through me, tangling with something else, something deeper. I shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t let this affect me.
But it does.
Maddox swallows, finally shifting his gaze to mine. His blue eyes are sharp, assessing, but there’s a rawness beneath the surface.
An unguarded expression, just for a second.
“Are you going to tell me I’m an idiot for that?” His voice dips lower. It’s meant to be teasing, but I can hear the weight behind it.
I shake my head and try to swallow through the thickness in my throat. “No,” I whisper. “I?—”
I, what? I appreciate it? I feel something dangerously close to admiration for the man who should be my enemy? I don’t know what to say, so I do the only thing I can.
I shift closer, closing the space between us just enough that our knees brush, that the heat of him seeps into my skin. Maddox’s gaze drops to my lips, just for a second, before he exhales and looks away.
The ride slows as we near the bottom, but I don’t move. Neither does he.
When the gondola finally comes to a full stop, he glances at me again, something unreadable in his expression. Then he tips his chin toward the exit.
“Come on, angel,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you back on solid ground.”
I haven’t been on solid ground since we met, I think.
And even as I step out of the ride, even as I spot Asher waiting for me a few feet away, arms crossed, phone still in hand…
I don’t take Maddox’s jacket off.
I should. I know I should.
But I don’t.