Chapter 17
Kitchen Confessions
Lucas blinked awake, his mind foggy, his body heavy, his chest full.
He wasn’t alone.
His arm was slung across Maddison’s waist, his face pressed into the curve of her back, his leg tangled with hers like some kind of instinctive cage.
Like she was his anchor.
Her breathing was slow, steady. Still asleep
He didn’t move. Didn’t dare. He didn’t want to break the spell.
I should be panicking, he thought. I should be pushing her away. I always do.
But he didn’t want to.
Her hair smelled like vanilla and chaos. She was warm. She made him feel safe. And he wasn’t used to being safe. Not with anyone. Not even Logan.
She shifted in her sleep, hips pressing back against him. He bit back a groan, ignored the way his body reacted, and whispered something he never meant to let out.
“…I think I love you.”
His voice cracked on the word love. He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, panic fluttering in his chest. But he didn’t let go. Didn’t untangle. Just tightened his grip.
Maddison stirred as he tried to slip his arm free. She rolled over, red hair wild, eyes
hazy with sleep, lips already curving.
“Hey, baby,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. Slow. Sweet. Like they’d done it a
hundred times before. He froze for just a heartbeat too long. Then leaned into her touch when her hand cupped his jaw.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she yawned, sliding out of bed.
Lucas watched her pull on his shirt and pad barefoot into the kitchen like she belonged here. Like she’d always belonged here. The smell of butter and eggs hit first. Lucas leaned against the doorway, shirtless, arms crossed, silently watching her.
She was humming. Maddison Parker, chaotic, blackmailing, maddening, was humming in his kitchen, barefoot in his shirt, cracking eggs like this was normal.
Like they were real.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” she tossed back over her shoulder, “but I want to.”
She grinned at him then, warm and unbothered, like this was easy.
Lucas’s chest tightened. I want it too, he admitted to himself. But wanting doesn’t keep people alive in my world. The eggs sizzled. Lucas sat at the island, coffee in hand, his gaze never leaving her.
“So…” Maddison said, flipping eggs with too much confidence for someone who probably burned toast. “What happened with your ex?”
He stiffened. Subtle. But she caught it.
“She didn’t like that I wouldn’t let her stay here,” he said flatly. “Said I kept everything locked. Said I was emotionally constipated. Her words.”
Maddison arched a brow. “Well… are you?”
He looked away, jaw tight. Then softer “I didn’t bring people here. This place wasn’t… for anyone. Until you.”
That silenced her. Just for a second.
“So what changed?” she asked quietly.
His eyes found hers.
“You. I wanted you here before I even understood why.”
Something twisted in her chest.
He cleared his throat, shifted. “What about you? Exes?”
Maddison snorted. “Please. I attract creeps and narcissists. Got fired from my last job for kicking one in the balls after he grabbed my ass.”
Lucas smirked. “Remind me not to grab your ass in the breakroom.”
Her eyes glinted. “Oh, you can. Just ask nicely.”
He chuckled into his coffee. But then his tone changed.
“Has anyone ever hurt you? Like really hurt you?”
The question hung in the air. Maddison’s smile faltered.
She set the spatula down. Turned slightly, letting the hem of his shirt ride up her thigh. A long, pale scar curved across her skin.
“A few years ago,” she said quietly. “A coworker tried to grope me. I said no. I tried to run. He shoved me down the stairs.”
Lucas’s fingers tightened on his mug.
“I got fired,” Maddison added, voice almost casual. “Because apparently I ‘led him on.’”
She gave a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “That’s the kind of luck I have. My mum thinks I’m crazy, anyway. Says I make up relationships in my head. Four years ago she had me put in a psych ward for a year after I… stalked a guy. Thought he was going to marry me. He wasn’t.”
Lucas blinked.
Maddison shrugged, like it was nothing. “I’ve got an older sister. Perfect, lawyer, golden child. My dad left before I was born. Mum blames me.”
She picked the spatula back up. “So yeah. That’s me. Red hair, tight skirts, family baggage, scarred leg, former mental patient. And somehow still here. Still making breakfast for the CEO of the year.”
Lucas stood slowly, walked around the counter, and pulled her in by the waist. His hand brushed the scar gently, reverently.
“I’m not just falling,” he said, voice rough. “I think I already have.”
Maddison smirked, though her chest ached. “Good. Then I won’t have to blackmail you anymore.”
He kissed her.
The eggs burned.