9. Ian
9
IAN
Come on, Hastings, get it together. I took a breath, giving myself a mental shake as I stepped up to the counter. It’s just washing dishes, not closing a multi-million-dollar deal.
I grabbed the first wine glass from the counter, trying to act like I’d done this a million times and not like I’d always had a housekeeper to wash my dishes for me.
I mean, it’s not like it’s rocket science? How hard could it be?
“So, what’s the trick?” I asked. “Any special technique I need to know?” And while I’d tried to keep my tone casual, the slight tremor in my grip betrayed me.
Why was I suddenly so jittery? I’d been alone with plenty of women through the years, so why was I suddenly so nervous to be alone with this cute, single mom?
“It’s not super complicated.” Maddie gave a soft laugh, stepping up next to me. “Just warm water and a little soap. But be careful, the glasses can get slippery.”
Her voice was light, teasing almost, like she found it comical that a twenty-eight-year-old man would be so inexperienced with washing the dishes.
Which, yes, was quite ridiculous, now that I thought about it. But since I’d offered to help clean up, I needed to figure this out.
So I picked up the sponge, added a little soap and water to it and started scrubbing the inside of the glass.
“There, you’ve got it,” Maddie said, leaning in closer to peek over at my work. “Easy-peasy.”
But when her shoulder brushed mine a second later and I felt the warmth radiating from her, something in my brain must have short-circuited because before I knew it, my grip fumbled and the glass slipped right out of my hands, hitting the side of the sink before shattering into pieces.
“Ah sh—” I started to say before reaching down to pick up the glass shards. But my depth perception must have been off because I ended up slicing the edge of my palm against one of the jagged pieces.
“Ahh!” I jerked back, wincing as a sharp stinging pain shot through my hand.
“Oh no!” Maddie’s voice rose, her hand flying to my arm. “Did you cut yourself?”
“I think so.” I held my hand up for her to see. And yep, there was a small trickle of blood on the edge of my palm.
“Okay, it doesn’t look too bad,” she said, inspecting my cut with concern etched on her face. “But let’s get a closer look to make sure you don’t need stitches or anything like that. “
She turned the water up, guiding my hand under the stream. The sting of the water hit hard, making me almost wince again, but her fingers were gentle as she inspected it.
“I don’t think it’s too deep,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Just a surface cut. But we’ll need to make sure it’s clean before we bandage you up.”
And she must have switched into full mom mode because instead of having me wash my hand myself, she grabbed some foaming soap and gently did it for me. Which was...surprisingly nice. I hadn’t had someone care for me like this in…well, probably not since I was a kid.
She pulled a paper towel from the roll beside the sink and carefully wrapped it around my hand, applying warm, steady pressure to the cut. It was only then that she seemed to realize how nurturing she’d been.
“Oh my heck!” She gasped, her eyes going wide as she looked up at me. “I totally just went into mom mode, didn’t I?”
“Maybe.” I chuckled. “But it’s okay.”
A beautiful flush crept up her cheeks as she shook her head. “All right, well, just hold that there for a minute. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
“Smooth move, Ian , ” I muttered under my breath when she disappeared down the hall.
What kind of idiot can’t even wash a little wine glass?
An idiot named Ian. That’s who.
Maddie returned a moment later, carrying a small first aid kit. Okay, it was more like a survival pack, really—fully stocked with everything you’d ever need.
“That’s quite the first aid kit.” I raised an eyebrow as she flipped it open.
“Well…” Maddie smiled. “When you’ve got a rambunctious eight-year-old, it’s a necessity.”
“Sounds like he’s a lot like my brothers and me.” I chuckled, remembering myself at that age. “Always finding trouble.”
“Oh, definitely.” She laughed softly. “Now, let’s take a look at that cut.”
I extended my palm, and her eyes softened as they landed on the thin, half-inch slice along the edge of my hand. She rummaged through the bandages in her kit before selecting one. “I think this one would do, don’t you?” she murmured.
“It looks perfect to me,” I replied, though I hadn’t really looked at it—I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from her.
Her wavy hair was down, slightly mussed in the back, like she’d been lying in bed beside her son, maybe telling him a bedtime story or singing softly as he drifted off. Her eyeliner wasn’t as crisp as it had been this afternoon when we sat across from each other during lunch, but it still framed her eyes beautifully—those blue, blue eyes that seemed to glow in the soft light of the kitchen.
She took my hand again, dabbing ointment onto the cut. And even though it was something simple, something a nurse might do without a second thought, in this quiet kitchen, it felt different—intimate. Her fingers brushed against my skin, and each time she let go, warmth lingered, making the moment feel heavier, more charged than it should have.
“There,” she said softly, smoothing the bandage into place. “That should help.”
“Thank you.” I glanced down at my hand, needing to look away from her face before I was tempted to brush that stray lock of hair behind her ear.
She looked down again, too, and noticing the small scar near my thumb, she gently grazed her finger against it. “What’s that from? Have you cut yourself doing dishes before?”
“No.” I chuckled, my voice quieter than before, the memory of how I’d received that scar coming to the surface. “That’s from my, uh…” I stopped, needing to clear my throat, which had suddenly become froggy from the emotions this memory brought up. “It’s just from when I was a kid.”
“What happened?” she asked, her gaze softening as she looked up at me.
I hesitated, feeling the warmth of her hand still wrapped around mine.
And even though I’d stopped myself from explaining more a moment earlier, the memory itself wasn’t actually bad. It was a good one. One from a fun day with friends in a place I’d once felt loved.
The only thing that made this memory sad now was just that the memories made at that place had stopped.
Stopped because I hadn’t been wanted there anymore.
Stopped because I’d been replaced.
But looking down and running my fingers along the old scar, I said, “I used to build forts in my bio dad’s backyard with some neighbor kids when I stayed with him.”
“Your bio dad?” She frowned. “Does that mean Joel Hastings isn’t your biological father?”
“He’s my stepdad.” I nodded. “He and my mom got together when I was like five.”
“Oh.”
When she still seemed confused, I added, “I’m sure it’s probably confusing since my last name is Hastings now, but I was Ian Hawthorne until I was eighteen.”
“Oh…” Her brow furrowed then, like she was trying to figure out how that worked.
“Yeah, uh…” I swallowed. “My bio dad wasn’t really that involved once he got remarried and had a couple more kids. So when I was eighteen, I decided to change my last name to reflect the man who had actually raised me.”
“So you and your bio dad are estranged?” she asked.
“Basically.” I nodded. “When I realized the only times we even talked was if I made the first move, I decided to do a little experiment to see just how long it would take for him to reach out. And well…it’s been about twelve years since I’ve heard from him.”
“Twelve years?” Maddie’s eyebrows raised. “Dang. That sucks.”
“Yeah.” I nodded again. “He doesn’t even live that far from here. Just twenty minutes away in New Haven.” Her eyes widened like she was stunned that a parent who lived so close would choose not to take an active part in their child’s life. But I shrugged and said, “It’s okay now. I mean, I used to be really mad about it—hence the last name change. But it is what it is.”
“His loss,” Maddie said. And for a moment, it looked like she might reach out to touch my arm in a comforting way. But seeming to rethink it, she put her hands behind her back instead. After a moment, she met my gaze again, saying, “I guess I can relate somewhat, though. I haven’t seen my mom since second grade.”
“What?” My eyebrows shot up, surprised we’d have something like this in common.
She nodded. “Yeah, she just up and left one day, leaving my dad with three little kids to raise on his own.”
“And you never heard from her again?”
“Nope,” she said with a sigh. “My brother was curious about her when he was in high school and ended up finding out that she was in a folk band. But when he went to one of her shows and tried to talk to her, she basically blew him off and told him she had closed that chapter of her life and didn’t want anything to do with us.”
“Wow.” My jaw dropped. And while I could understand a little of what she was saying since I’d been neglected by my own bio dad, he hadn’t outright disappeared. I could call him up and he’d probably even be up to grabbing a beer together if I wanted to.
He’d just been too lazy to keep up the relationship.
“And this is Sloan’s older sister?” I asked, trying to figure out how their family dynamic worked.
“Yeah.” Maddie nodded. “We still had a relationship with my mom’s parents and all her siblings. My mom just went no contact with everyone.”
“Well, she’s missing out,” I said, wishing I had better words. Because even though I barely knew Maddie, I could already tell that she was someone worth sticking around for.
“Thanks,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “It sucked at first. But my dad is amazing, so my siblings and I really lucked out with him. He’s the best grandpa, too.”
Her voice wavered slightly as she mentioned her dad, and I caught a hint of emotion flickering across her face. There was probably more to that story—maybe about how her dad had stepped up to help a lot when Grant had been born, since considering how old her son was, she most likely had him in high school.
How had that been for her?
Before I could dwell too much on it, she cleared her throat and said, “Anyway, you never finished telling me how you got this scar.” She nodded toward the old mark on my right hand. “Is it an epic tale?”
“Not exactly epic,” I said with a grin. “But I was pretending to be a pirate at the time, so that’s pretty cool.”
“So cool,” she echoed, her grin matching mine.
“Basically,” I continued, “my friends and I were playing in our homemade fortress, and I had the brilliant idea to slide down the makeshift ramp we built. My hand ended up getting caught on a rusty nail on the way down, and voilà, I got this beauty of a scar.”
“You were quite the daredevil, huh?” she teased, eyes twinkling.
“I did tell you that Reckless was my middle name, didn’t I?” My grin widened as I remembered our very first conversation.
“Yes,” she said, her voice softening as a hint of bashfulness crept into her expression. “You certainly did.”
Our gazes locked, the air between us becoming electric. For a moment, I wanted to be reckless—to pull her into my arms and taste her lips slowly, deliberately. And when her eyes flicked down to my mouth, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking the same thing.
But before I could figure that out, she took a step back. In a light-hearted tone, she asked, “So...how often do you wash dishes by hand?”
“Honestly?” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a flush of heat rise to my face. “I’m not sure I’ve ever really done it. I’ve always had a housekeeper to handle that.”
Her eyes widened, and a soft laugh escaped her lips. “So you weren’t just being playful when you asked me what the trick was to washing dishes? You really didn’t know what you were doing.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks redden. “Apparently, I’m a bit of a man-child.”
“Well, at least you pay the people who help you avoid certain tasks,” she said as she put the lid back on the ointment, putting it away. “That’s definitely better than just being lazy and expecting a girlfriend to be your lover and your mom.”
“From the way you say that, I’m guessing you might have experience with being someone’s romantic partner and mothering them.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Do I sound that bitter?”
“Not exactly.” I chuckled. “But it does make me think you must have carried a lot on your shoulders in the past.”
She sighed. “My ex really liked the idea of us sticking to the traditional gender roles in our home.”
“So you didn’t work while you were together?”
“Oh, I worked full time, too.” She laughed lightly, even though she didn’t seem to actually think her situation had been funny at all. Then shrugging, she said, “I don’t want to bore you with the nitty-gritty details, but well, we didn’t have what I would consider a fair balance of responsibilities. And even though I was the one paying most of our bills since his various business ventures never really turned a profit, I also handled most of the household chores and made sure Grant’s needs were taken care of.”
“Is that why you’re no longer together?” I asked, hoping to sound simply curious and not like I was judging her for not being married anymore.
“It definitely contributed to it,” she said. “But no, there were a lot of other things, too.” She looked like she might explain more about what led to her and her ex’s divorce, but then she seemed to have second thoughts and left it at that.
So instead of prying for the details that she seemed to want to keep private, I asked, “Were you together for long?”
“We were together off and on for about nine years.” She sighed. “We met when I was in high school and had fun. He was nineteen, so I thought it was exciting to hang out with an older guy. But we weren’t really exclusive at that point.” She picked up the wrappers from the bandage and tossed them into the trash bin under the sink. “We tried to make things work when I found out I was pregnant, but even then, we were so young that it was pretty rocky. We didn’t even move in together until Grant was two.”
Which was probably why she’d mentioned her dad being a good grandfather since it sounded like he’d probably been her main support system during that time.
“But I don’t know,” she continued, grabbing the ointment from the counter and tossing it into the first aid kit. “We were probably never really well matched. We tried to make it work because of Grant, but if I hadn’t gotten pregnant so young—before I really knew who I was and what I wanted out of life—we probably wouldn’t have tried to make it work in the first place.”
“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, right?”
“It definitely is.”
We were quiet for a moment, and I couldn’t help but think that Maddie was such a strong woman. She was only twenty-six but had already been through so much and carried so much responsibility on her shoulders. Raising a child from such a young age while I could barely keep a plant alive without help.
I probably seemed so immature in comparison.
Sure, I was able to support myself—the privileged life I’d been blessed with helped me a lot in keeping the different cogs in my life spinning. But Maddie was raising a literal human. And from the sound of it, she had to do a lot of that on her own.
“I feel bad I wasn’t much help tonight.” I glanced at the sink, still full of dishes, and felt a bit useless. “In fact, I probably just made even more work since I broke one of Sloan’s glasses in the process.”
“It’s fine,” Maddie said. “I can handle it.”
“I know.” I sighed, tipping my head to meet her eyes. “I just— I wanted to be helpful, but now it’s even later, and I know you have work early in the morning.”
“It’s really fine, Ian.” Maddie chuckled. “I probably shouldn’t have said all that about living with a man-child because I can tell you’re now worried that I’ll think you’re a man-child, too. But I don’t. So what if you don’t hand-wash dishes? That’s fine. You at least know how to load a dishwasher, right?”
“I do,” I replied, probably a little too proudly.
“Then don’t worry about it.” She laughed. “Sloan was planning to throw everything in the dishwasher tomorrow, anyway.”
“You don’t think she’ll send me an angry text when she discovers I didn’t actually leave a spotless kitchen for her to wake up to?”
“I can’t promise that…” she said. But when a smirk lifted her lips, I knew she was teasing me.
“Fine.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll go home and try not to have nightmares about turning into a man-baby in a diaper.”
Maddie blinked, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Sorry! Weird joke.” I quickly waved my hands, regretting the image I’d just put in her head. “Forget I said that.”
“It’s fine.” She laughed. “But…I think you may have just cured me of thinking you look hot in every scenario.”
I froze. Wait, what? My brain replayed her words, and I stared at her, stunned.
“Oh my gosh, I—” Maddie’s eyes widened in horror as a hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I forgot for a second that you’re my boss and that commenting on your looks is totally inappropriate.”
“It’s fine.” I grinned, feeling her embarrassment wash over both of us. “But for the record, I once dressed up as Cupid at a Valentine’s party as a prank…and I rocked it.”
“I bet you did.” She smiled, relieved that I wasn’t upset. “I just know that I, uh, haven’t exactly made myself indispensable at work yet. So I’d really like to keep my job.”
“You’re fine, Maddie. If I can’t even wash dishes, do you really think I’d survive without an assistant for long?”
“Maybe not…” She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “I definitely don’t mind having a little job security.”
“You do,” I said, probably too earnestly.
And I probably shouldn’t tell her that she could make all kinds of flirty comments and I’d still want to keep her around.
“Anyway,” I said, shaking the thought away, “I should head out so you can get some sleep before work.”
She nodded. And I might have been imagining it, but she almost seemed disappointed that I was leaving. But the look was gone a moment later, and she said, “Let me walk you to the door.”
She led me out of the kitchen and into the living room. When she opened the door, I pulled out my keys and unlocked my car. The headlights of my Bugatti flickered, catching her attention.
“Wow.” Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping slightly. “That’s…a fancy car.”
I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “It gets me from place to place.”
“I bet it does.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Probably gets you there pretty fast, too.”
“That it does.”