Chapter 24
brAXTON
Our waiter returns to our table, quietly setting a tequila sunrise in front of me and a glass of Diet Coke in front of Maddox. We both thank him before he shuffles off, having taken our dinner order a handful of minutes ago.
I lean forward and close my lips around the straw in my drink before taking a sip and glancing around the restaurant.
It’s a beautiful place, maybe even somewhere I would come again.
Quiet with dark, cool tones that I would expect to make it feel more like a club than a high-end place to eat, it’s actually quite romantic. Not uncomfortable at all.
Our table is tucked in the furthest corner from the front, and I don’t know if that was the original placement because, just as I thought, we missed our reservation. But just like Maddox said, the hostess was quick to find us another place to sit. A private table, which I’m grateful for.
The words he said to me outside are still fresh in my mind, wreaking havoc on my heart and soul.
I’ve never had anyone tell me those things before—let alone a man—and I’m at a loss for what to do with myself.
Is it too much to throw myself across the table and plant myself in his lap? Yeah . . . probably.
Today has been an absolute whirlwind of emotions, and I feel more exhausted than I did during finals in my last year of vet school.
If I were with anyone else tonight, I would have opted to go home and curl up in bed instead of going out to dinner, but I’m with Dox, and that’s worth feeling dead on my feet.
We’re starting fresh. Well, as fresh as we can, considering our history. It feels like a weight off my chest knowing we can move forward together and hopefully find ourselves back to where we were before everything bad happened—or close enough to it.
I don’t think I could ever silently pine after a man again the way I did Maddox, and after today .
. . I’m positive that I’m about to fall in love with my childhood best friend all over again.
It should terrify me, but it’s weird because for the first time in a long time, I feel completely at peace with the idea.
Maybe it’s because I now know how he felt when we were younger. How he pined for me as hard as I pined for him and that all the nights I lay awake in my bed convincing myself that he loved me back weren’t ill wasted after all.
It might sound arrogant, but I think he’s found himself in the exact same position. The fake couple facade is only going to act as an accelerant to our resurfacing feelings, and if I were a gambler, I’d put money down on us falling harder and quicker than we maybe would have otherwise.
I’m damn near positive about it.
And I’m ready for it.
I just hope he is too.
“How are your feet feeling?” Maddox asks, humour thick in his voice.
Pulling out of my thoughts, I release my straw and smile sweetly. “Perfect. Like they’re cozy in a pair of fuzzy slippers.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Not. There are blisters on my heels that have to be the size of loonies. As soon as we sat down, I slipped my shoes off beneath the table.
“You’re probably not nervous about the walk back to the truck after this, then.” He’s watching me coyly, trying to keep from smiling, but his twitching lips are giving him away.
“Nope.” I pop the p. He hums low, and I startle when the toe of his sneaker touches the tip of my big toe. His eyebrow jumps, a smirk spreading across his perfect features. “What? I have sweaty feet.”
“Come on, Curly Fry. Just admit defeat.”
“Not happening.”
“Fine.” He shrugs and wraps long fingers around his dewy glass before bringing it to his lips and letting the cool drink slide down his throat.
It should be a crime to look so good drinking Coke.
Setting the glass back down, he slowly swipes away the wetness on his lips with his thumb, his sly gaze unwavering. Christ, that shouldn’t turn me on, but here I am, squeezing my thighs together beneath the table and struggling to breathe.
“Do you not drink alcohol?” I blurt out, snaking a hand behind my neck to wipe away the perspiration.
He leans back in his chair and taps his fingers to the white tablecloth. “Not usually. Definitely not during playoffs. We have practice tomorrow, and alcohol slows me down.”
“Does it bother you that I’m drinking? I could have ordered something else.”
“Fuck no. I’m a grown man, baby girl. I can handle a bit of a tease.”
Oh. “You know that the equivalent of baby girl is baby boy, right? Unless you want me to start calling you that, stop with the baby girl.”
He drops his head back and laughs, the sound so beautiful that I can’t help but watch him, soaking up how good it feels to hear that sound again. It has my heart all turned in on itself.
“What’s so funny, baby boy?” I ask through a giggle.
“Fucking hell, I missed you,” he replies, shaking his head as he falls forward, elbows planted on the table now. “But you win. Please no more baby boy. It hurts my ego.”
“Oh, poor Maddox.” I pout. He just grins at me, looking as if he loves my teasing. Maybe he really does.
Our conversation comes to a halt when our waiter appears and starts to set our food down in front of us.
The teenager avoids eye contact with both of us, and I can only assume that he’s a Maddox fan who’s been warned not to make a big deal out of serving us.
It’s adorable the way he nervously fiddles with everything on the table, organizing the silverware and setting new salt and pepper shakers down before scurrying away.
“Thank you!” I say before he gets too far away. He turns to give me a quick smile before turning into what might be the kitchen. “He’s adorably nervous.”
Maddox looks away from his plate of steak and potatoes and surprises me with how warm his eyes are. “He’s serving a beautiful woman. Of course he is.”
Heat spreads from my chest upward, and I don’t even want to know how splotchy I look. “I think it might have more to do with the NHL player across from me, but thank you for the compliment. You’re being ultra-sweet tonight.”
“Making up for lost time.”
When my heart cur-plunks in my chest, I know I have to move this conversation along before I end up in cardiac arrest in the middle of this restaurant. The press would eat that up, though, I’m sure.
“Have you seen any reporters? If they’re not here by now, I doubt they’re coming. I guess it is just dinner. Are they actually interested in seeing that stuff?” I ask, finally taking in the meal in front of me.
Baked mac and cheese and a thick slice of garlic bread. Clearly, I’m as fancy of a girl as they come.
“Oh, they’ve been here since we walked in, sweetheart,” Maddox states before popping a piece of steak in his mouth.
I freeze. “What?”
“Relax. And don’t look around for them like a crazy woman. We want everything to seem as real as possible, and that’s exactly what we’ve been doing. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to act any differently.”
It makes sense, but I shiver with nerves anyway.
Then there’s a hand covering mine and fingers slipping across my palm.
My eyes fall to the back of Maddox’s hand as he holds mine so delicately, like he’s scared it’ll crumble if he’s too rough with it.
I release a tense breath, pressure suddenly building in my chest.
“It’s different talking about it and actually doing it.
It never gets easier either. Having so many people watching your every move.
If you’re feeling uncomfortable, we can leave right now,” he says, his tone so calm and reassuring that I fall headfirst into it, letting his words do exactly as he intended them to.
I give my head a small shake. “We came here for a purpose.”
“And we’ve done it. Tomorrow will be a lot for you.
They’ll post their photos on every sports page in the morning, and your social media will blow up with questions, maybe even some things I would rather die than have you read.
” He frowns deeply, and I squeeze his hand.
“I should have prepared you better for this. I’m sorry. ”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t know what would happen after. I’m not a weak little girl anymore. I’m ready for it.”
“You were never weak,” he murmurs.
“I tried not to be. And I’ve only gotten stronger since. I got this. I promise.”
He stares at my mouth—at the smile I’ve placed there for his benefit—and nods. I flip our hands and start to trace the lines on his palm, one by one. Goosebumps crop up on his forearms, and my smile grows.
“If you need me tomorrow, call me. Don’t just text me. Call. Okay?” he asks.
“Okay,” I agree. “I can do that.”
And as easy as that, we go back to eating our dinner, the watching eyes fading back out of thought, leaving just him and me.
“I told you so!” Maddox shouts into the night, his body shaking with laughter beneath me.
He has my purse over his shoulder and me on his back, starting to carry me down the sidewalk toward the clinic like we both knew would eventually happen.
In my defense, I did stick it out for the first half of the walk, but as soon as blister number one popped right open and ruined my shoes with bloodstains, I was down for the count.
The cold breeze rushes up the back of my dress, where I hope I’m not flashing my lace panties to each car that passes.
His fingers are sunk deep in my inner thighs, and it’s taking everything in me not to beg him to move them higher, to the spot between my legs that’s absolutely soaked by this point in the night.
We can’t be even five minutes from our destination, and despite my hiked sense of arousal, I haven’t stopped laughing the entire walk home. It feels better than words.
He adjusts his hold on me for the briefest second as he presses the button for the crosswalk, and I’m reminded once again how easy it seems for him to hold my weight. It’s doing wonders for my self-confidence, but I keep that to myself.
“Well, a bet is a bet. So, I hope you’re ready to have a stinky fake girlfriend at all your games,” I tease. I’m actually looking forward to wearing his jersey every day, even if I’ll have to do laundry far more often.
“Stinky or not, I can’t fucking wait, Curly Fry,” he says as we start across the road.
I lean my cheek to the side of his head and intertwine my fingers at the base of his throat. A whiff of his cologne blows up at me from his front, and it finally hits me why I’m so familiar with it.
“I bought you this cologne when we were seventeen,” I say, inhaling the scent.
“You did,” he confirms.
“And you still wear it?”
If I remember correctly, it’s cheap. Definitely not what I would expect the NHL’s top player to be wearing.
“Do we have to talk about this?” he asks quickly, and I swallow back a surprised giggle.
“Oh my God! Are you embarrassed?”
He pinches my thigh, making me squeal as he blows out a long breath. “Yes. Of course I am.”
“You’re adorable. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m actually kinda flattered. Have you been buying it all these years?”
“No, I’ve been using the same bottle for nine years,” he says, sarcasm heavy in the words. I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’ve been buying it. I have to order it online now because it’s not popular enough to be in store.”
I drop my face to the crook of his neck and laugh into his shirt.
“You laughing at me isn’t exactly helping with the embarrassment, you know?” he grumbles.
My heart skips when I ask, “Did you really miss me that much?”
When he suddenly crouches and releases my thighs, I take the hint and drop to my feet, staring up at him, confused.
It’s now that I realize we’re in the parking lot of my clinic.
The empty parking lot. His truck is only a few feet away, and the street lamps are on, casting the faintest glow on the pavement.
Maddox turns and meets my gaze with dark eyes. There’s no hint of the lighthearted energy that was just buzzing around us. Instead, the air is buzzing for an entirely different reason.
“I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything.
You took a piece of me that day, and I’ve been searching for something, anything, to mould into the hole left behind, but it was impossible.
Now you’re here, and that hole? It’s gone.
So yes, sweetheart. I missed you. And wearing the cologne you got me made me feel like I didn’t lose you entirely while you were away. I’ve worn it every single day.”
“Dox,” I breathe, blinking back tears. His vulnerability today has shaken me, and I know it’s my turn.
Without speaking, I reach toward him and slide my purse from his shoulder. I unzip it and reach inside, rooting around until I feel what I’m looking for. The thin elastic band and square beads make my fingers tingle as I grip the bracelet tight and pull it out, holding it up in front of me.
His eyes fall to the bracelet, and he sucks in a breath.
Maddox’s Girl.
Along the length of the elastic, eleven tiny square beads that he slid on one by one when we were seven shine under the street lamp. A single double knot keeps it all held together.
“I’m not as good with my words are you are. But I’ve kept this with me every single day. So, please don’t be embarrassed about the cologne. I missed you just as much as you missed me. If not more.”
“I want to kiss you,” he croaks, and I notice a sheen to his eyes that makes my knees shake.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Then kiss me.”
There’s nobody around to see, but one time without the pretense of practice won’t hurt. At this point, I don’t care if it does.
He clasps his hand over the one I have holding the bracelet, and our fingers curl around it as his other hand comes up to hold the back of my head and he pulls me close, kissing me hard.
The kiss is hard but soft. Urgent but patient. Confusing but all too clear at the same time.
In other words, it’s entirely real.