14. Madison
MADISON
I ’m getting ready for tonight, and the nerves are really starting to get to me. My mother is calling it her bachelorette party, but it’s really just a dinner Mr. Lockwood insisted on having to celebrate her and their swiftly approaching wedding. She sent this dress for me to wear, and I actually don’t hate it. It's short, baby pink, and made out of frilly tulle material.
My hand tightens around the strappy heels that Hayden bought me when he stocked this room for me. I haven’t worn these yet because the thought of trying to walk in them on the cobblestone walkways on campus seems like a bad idea. My gaze flies to the door when there’s a sudden, loud knock. Kirsten is supposed to come over to ride with me, and I guess she’s a little early.
I clear my throat and glance at my reflection one last time, smoothing my palms down the sides of my dress. The anticipation of the night and everything I don’t want to face buzzes low in my chest. I’ve successfully avoided Hayden since the evening in the cathedral, but I know I’ll have to see him tonight.
“Coming,” I call out when there’s another loud bang on the thick wood. I frown, shifting my weight as I fight with the straps of my stilettos, trying to get them secured. The thin silver buckles are maddening, slipping through my fingers as I wobble like a newborn deer. “Coming. Gimme one second. Ugh! These damn shoes.”
The words come out in a frustrated huff as I teeter, one heel on, the other dangling uselessly from my hand. I can already picture Kirsten on the other side of the door, arms crossed and tapping her foot like she’s been waiting for hours. It wouldn’t be the first time she showed up at a time completely different than what we agreed on.
I give up, taking the shoe off and letting it dangle from my fingers as I march over to the door barefoot, muttering under my breath about why the universe clearly hates me. I yank the door open, ready to deal with Kirsten’s snark, but I freeze.
Hayden stands there, leaning against the doorframe like he owns the whole damn building. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a gray hoodie that looks soft enough to sink into, his damp hair a little messy like he just ran a towel through it after a shower. The faint smell of soap drifts in with him, wrapping around me like a warm hand curling at the back of my neck.
He holds an oversized bouquet of daisies, the bright white petals and sunny centers beaming up at me. If the heat in his gaze is any indication, he’s committing every inch of me in this dress to his memory.
Something in my chest flips, that traitorous little organ giving me away as I stand there, stunned. My heart hammers hard enough that I’m sure he can hear it, and worse, I feel that familiar warmth pooling low in my belly just at the sight of him.
I swallow thickly when he asks “Aren’t you going to invite me in, princess?”
He says it casually, but the way his eyes flick down to my bare legs, lingering just a little too long before snapping back to mine, makes my skin prickle with heat.
I tilt my head, trying to play it cool even though my pulse won’t settle. “I suppose, since you brought my favorite flowers.”
The words slip out before I think them through, and I blink at the daisies, their simple, cheerful petals almost too perfect against the roughness of Hayden’s hands.
“I don’t know how you could even know that,” I say, letting a little more honesty creep into my voice. “No one’s ever bought me flowers. Not even my parents.”
Hayden steps into the doorway, his body close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him. His lips curl just slightly as he hands me the bouquet, his fingers brushing against mine as I take it. “I told you,” he says quietly, “I know everything.”
I inhale softly, catching the faint, fresh scent of the daisies as I hold them against my chest. They feel delicate, almost too fragile for me to hold.
Hayden shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, his gaze never leaving mine. “And I’m trying to be better. To not be so…”
“Stalkerish?” I finish for him, raising a brow, a cheeky smile tugging at my lips. As dumb as it sounds, the flowers have made me a little giddy.
Hayden grins, the glint in his eye sharp and deliberate. “I knocked this time. And I prefer the term attentive.”
I roll my eyes at how ridiculously serious he is when he corrects me. His steps echo mine as I cross the room, and I try to ignore how close he is. I keep my eyes fixed on Chapel’s side of the room, zeroing in on a vase perched on her desk.
I grab the vase, because I know she won’t mind as long as Hayden doesn’t touch anything on her side of the room. I head over to the bathroom to fill it with water and then set the vase on my desk with a quiet thud and start arranging the flowers, trying to ignore the fact that Hayden is hovering just a step away.
I tell myself not to look at him, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to me, but it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t feel him everywhere. I swallow hard, my hands shaking slightly as I adjust the stems.
The truth about how I’m feeling right now is worse than I want to admit.
I missed him.
The thought hits me like a punch to the stomach, my chest tightening as I accept it. I hate that it’s true, that the last few days without him made me feel restless, vulnerable, like something was missing. I even woke up this morning feeling like he’d been in my room last night when I know that’s not possible. He’s here though, and everything inside me settles.
I want him to pull me against his chest, to wrap me up in those strong arms and make everything disappear for just a moment. I want to let myself sink into him because when he’s close, I don’t worry. I don’t think about the past or the future or all the ways things could go wrong.
Trying to change the mood, I turn and press my hand playfully against his chest, my fingers sinking into the soft fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of him radiates through the material, and I pretend not to notice how solid he feels beneath my touch. “Did you not get the thirty texts my mom sent to the wedding group chat about how tonight's dinner is formal attire only?” I ask, letting out a light laugh.
But Hayden doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he moves closer, and my breath catches when he lifts his hand and cups my face in his palm. His skin is rough against mine, his hand so big it makes me feel small, delicate, breakable.
“Look at me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly, a sound I feel more than hear. I hesitate, because I know we’ll be back to square one if I obey his request. The word leaves him softer this time, a quiet rasp that makes my resolve weaken. “Please.”
Something about the way he says it, raw, unguarded, makes my eyes lift to lock on his.
“You look stunning.” The words hit me square in the chest, something deeper lingering beneath them, and I can’t stop the heat that rises to my cheeks. I cover it with a smirk, turning to grab my shoes.
I hold them up, dangling the strappy silver stilettos like a peace offering. “I almost died three times trying to get these on,” I joke, but my voice quivers.
His gaze drops to my dress, trailing slowly over me, and the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch. I try to shake it off, balancing on one foot as I lift the other to slip on the first shoe, but the second I teeter, my arms flail slightly.
Hayden moves faster than I can react, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His hands grip my waist, steadying me with ease before he drops to his knees in front of me. My pulse stutters as I look down at him, kneeling before me like it’s exactly where he wants to be.
His palm slides up my calf, the rough skin of his hand a sharp contrast to the smoothness of my leg. Thank the Lord I shaved my legs today. The sensation leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and I open my mouth to protest, but the words catch in my throat as he leans in.
His lips press against my leg, just above my knee, warm and soft against my skin. My fingers curl involuntarily, clutching the fabric of his hoodie at his shoulders as I sway slightly under his touch.
“I can do it myself,” I say weakly, though I make no effort to stop him.
He ignores me, his focus steady as he gently guides my foot into the first shoe, buckling the strap with surprising care. He moves to the other, his fingertips brushing my ankle with such deliberate slowness that I have to fight to keep my knees from trembling.
When he looks up at me, it’s through those dark lashes of his, his brown eyes glittering with something that makes my stomach twist with need. His hand slides up the length of my leg again, stopping just below the hem of my dress, his thumb stroking the smooth skin of my thigh.
“I’m going to be an absolute menace if you’re wearing this out tonight,” he says, his voice rough, sending a shiver rippling through me.
My breath catches, but I find my voice, my sass bubbling back to the surface to keep me from spiraling. I reach out, brushing the strands of his hair out of his eyes. He leans into my touch, just slightly, like he’s been craving it.
I tilt my head, trying to hide the tremor in my voice as I tease him. “You’re the moody, broody, hockey captain. Can’t you fight?”
He grins at my words, like I’m finally giving him the green light to fight every man who has ever glanced in my direction. With his hand still resting high on my thigh, he says, “Baby, you have no idea what I’m capable of when it comes to you.”
Hayden’s fingers seem to trace their way down my leg before helping me with the other shoe. I’m not sure what to even say, but before I can respond, the door bursts open.
The sharp creak makes me flinch, and Hayden jerks back like he’s expecting a clown car full of assassins to be on the other side. Somehow the expression on his face tells me he’d rather deal with clown assassins than his own sister. Kirsten saunters in, sunglasses perched on her head and shopping bags dangling from her arms.
“Oh, ew,” she sneers, wrinkling her nose when she sees Hayden is still on his knees and his hands are now settled protectively on my hips.
I step back quickly, tugging my dress down while Hayden groans and pushes himself to his feet. He moves to stand next to me, his shoulders stiff as he rolls his eyes at her.
“What are you doing here?” Kirsten demands, tossing her bags onto Chapel’s bed and I cringe because that’s not going to go over well. “You’re supposed to be with Dad at the restaurant. You know that man has to be an hour early for everything.” She purses her lips and lifts her hands to fluff her short hair. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Hayden huffs out a breath, glaring at her. “Do you ever shut up? I’m not wearing a fucking suit to go eat seventy dollar salads or whatever fuckery is in store for tonight.”
I elbow him hard, shooting him a look. “Can you please be nice to your sister?” I’d love to get through tonight without Kirsten screaming, crying or locking herself in a public restroom.
He grins at me, all lazy arrogance, his eyes softening in that way that always makes me feel unsteady. “I’d do anything for you, princess, but I draw the line at that.”
“I hope you take a puck to the balls someday,” Kirsten snaps. It’s such an older sister thing to say that I can’t help but laugh.
“This was on your door when I walked up,” Kirsten says, pulling something from one of her bags and handing it to me.
It’s an envelope. An old one, the edges yellowed and slightly crinkled. A wax seal glints under the light, the intricate design of a Castlebrook fraternity stamped cleanly into it. I turn it over in my hands, the smooth surface cool against my skin.
I glance up at Hayden, scrunching my nose as I ask, “What would they be contacting me for?”
Kirsten shrugs, her voice nonchalant. “Scott is a Kappa Alpha. Maybe he’s inviting you to formal or something.”
Before I can react, Hayden snatches the letter out of my hands, holding it out of reach as I lunge for it. “Give it back,” I protest, my voice sharp with irritation.
But he’s too tall, too quick, and he rips the envelope open. I see the shift in his face instantly, his expression hardening as the color drains from his handsome face.
“What the fuck,” he blurts out, his voice a low growl.
My stomach drops, panic slamming into me as I jump up and snatch the letter from him. My hands tremble as I smooth the paper out, my eyes scanning the stark red letters scrawled across the page.
“Daddy and the whore were just the opening act. Are you ready for the main event?”