Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Go to the pile on the right if Maddox talked about me.”
Princess and I are in debrief. Otherwise known as bribery time. Otherwise known as Cheerio interrogation. Because I made a horrible, awful choice last night. I chose to ignore Logan. And I’ve been sick ever since.
Princess runs midair, where I have him suspended, and when I let him down, he bolts to the pile of Cheerios on the left.
I frown. “What’s happening here? Are you resistant to questioning?” Although now that I look at it, the pile on the left does look bigger.
Rookie mistake.
It’s the next day, and Maddox hasn’t come down yet.
I’ve been losing my mind ever since I decided I was done meddling, and I think it might have been the wrong decision.
I keep reminding myself that I’m done taking away Maddox’s choice.
I’m done doing what everyone else has done to him his whole life.
I’ve only thrown up three times, which isn’t bad considering I’ve wanted to about thirty-seven times. This is terrible. Terrible!
Maddox came back last night when I was in the living room, said nothing, then stalked upstairs. I’ve considered texting him, calling him, emailing him, and hiring a carrier pigeon service to drop a note. But what is that going to do? Make me feel better?
Although I am supposed to be saving myself, doesn’t that include making me feel better?
Not at the cost of Maddox, and you know dang well he could speak to you if he wanted to.
Whatever this voice is in my head needs to stop. Hey, Alexa, how do I delete a conscience in three easy steps?
I just want Maddox to know how sorry I am and how I’ll do better, and if he could just know that right now, then everything will be okay.
“Did he say he was leaving?” I ask Princess, who naturally doesn’t answer me.
Fluffer nutter, I think I’m going to explode. Was this just a sleep-deprived terror-based decision, and maybe it is actually better for me to check on him? What if he interprets my absence as disinterest?
I pick up my phone, hands shaking. I can’t get rid of this yucky feeling.
Fudge, I shouldn't do it. But there’s this incessant pounding in my head that says if I do it, things will get better, and I should just do it, just do it quickly.
No. I press my hands to the sides of my head, but the thoughts don’t stop.
What was that thing I did when I was panicking? Right, sour candy.
I dart to the kitchen, rummaging around in the shelves. No sour candy? Are you kidding me?
Wait, what was that other thing that could help? Ice?
I rip open the freezer. Where is the ice? Do I have ice? Oh no, do I not have that either? I see the tray tilted on its side and snatch it out, grab a bowl, and throw the ice and cold water in.
Maddox hates me, holy fudge, he hates me.
I plunge my head in. It doesn’t fully fit with my forehead sticking out a bit, but the longer my face sits there, the colder it gets. There’s a piece of ice directly against my right eyebrow, and it starts to hurt.
Maddox is definitely mad at me. What if he decides he never wants to talk to me again? I shift, the ice clinking, and continue to hold my breath. I start to hear my heartbeat in my ears, but then I think I hear something on the stairs.
Holy freak, it’s him coming down to say he’s moving out.
No. Stop thinking about Maddox. I try to push my head deeper in the water, some of it spilling over the sides and splashing up on my hairline.
Do better. Be better. For him. The beat of the words mixes with the beat of my heart until it’s racing, and finally, I yank my head out of the water, sucking in a gasp of air.
It feels exhilarating to breathe again, and I shake the water out of my eyes, turning to see Maddox leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“Fudge!” I stagger back a step, heart racing all over again. He’s right here. Was he watching me? For how long?
Oh fudge, he saw me sticking my head in a bowl of water like a crazy person.
I give him a smile that feels forced and clear my throat.
Maddox just watches me with unreadable eyes. Then, he crosses his arms tighter. “I’d like to ask for an advance.”
I stare at him, forgetting to breathe for a second.
“Of course.” My answer is immediate, before my brain can catch up.
An advance? Sure. Whatever he wants. I’d get on my knees and crawl for him if he wanted.
Give him the information for my account.
My social security number, if we wanted.
We could commit fraud together! It would be a great bonding activity.
But then Maddox starts talking, “I can cook, clean, watch Princess, and I will make up for it.”
“Sure,” I say. I don’t need him to do any of that, although I believe him. But I know he needs it to make him feel better. “How much do you need?”
There’s a flutter in Maddox’s expression, but he covers it up quickly and tells me an amount.
I’m honestly surprised at how low it is. I shrug. “Of course, I’ll send that over.”
For a minute, we’re locked in an awkward silence where neither of us is acknowledging the elephant in the room as I pull out my phone. And boy, do I want to. I have to clamp my mouth shut so hard I hear my teeth grind, and a bead of sweat rolls down my side.
“Sent.”
“Thank you.” Maddox’s grip on his arms softens a fraction. I avoid looking at his eyes so he doesn’t feel pressured. I can’t help but notice how toned his forearms are. Because of course I’m being a freaking hoe when he hates me, but I can’t help it.
“Where is your cleaning spray?”
Cleaning spray? My brain buffers for a second. Oh. Right. “Closet by the door.”
Maddox walks toward it, and I want to reach out and stop him. He shouldn’t have to work for something I’d give him anyway. But at the last minute, I stop myself, my arm half raised. I know what I want. But what does Maddox want?
Without a doubt, I know he doesn’t want an unexpected touch.
So I sit stiffly on the barstool and hold myself there.
Letting Maddox clean while I just sit here is quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
I want to just hand him the cash in my wallet and watch the relief on his face.
But that wouldn’t bring him relief, would it?
No, it would make him feel bad, and that’s not what I want.
Although it doesn’t look like Maddox is feeling relieved anyway.
Anytime he walks past me, he stiffens. Like he’s trying to ice me out.
Which he clearly is.
But I won’t let him. Maddox can do what he wants. Maybe I won’t scare him with touch or kill his ex, but I’m still going to like him, and he can’t change that.
He can’t change that!
He’d like to. Why? Doesn’t everyone want love? But as I sit there, a horrible sadness falls over me–Maddox doesn’t want love because he thinks abuse is love.
I wonder if he thinks I’m trying to hurt him? Not because I’m trying to hurt him, but because that’s all he knows?
Maddox’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. “Is Glock or Smith and Wesson better?”
I glance up. Huh?
Maddox turns to look slightly at me. Like he cares about my answer.
I perk up. “Oh, uh, it depends on what you’re looking for. Glock for a beginner, but Smith and Wesson’s are pretty.”
Maddox says nothing, and my mind races. Is he getting a gun?
Suddenly, excitement burns through me. Oh, freak yeah!
I love it! Hot. Maddox with a gun? And now all I can picture is his grumpy self holding a gun, and honestly, it makes me hard.
Plus, with a gun, he can protect himself.
Holy Toledo, what a good idea! Why didn’t I think of that?
I want to jump out of my seat and grill Maddox, but I stop myself. Don’t overreact.
Is he going to kill Arthur?
Fudge, what if we got matching guns? How cute would that be?
Maddox stalks out the door and shuts it, leaving me alone in the house. For a second, I feel that pain in my chest. Until I realize he didn’t give me that look. In fact, he walked out of the house with his head held high.
A freaking win if you ask me.