Chapter 8 Maddox
MADDOX
If there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that I love a parade. It could be a local Fourth of July one led by the town marching band or the big one on Thanksgiving Day in New York City. If it’s a parade, I’m there. Sometimes with literal bells on if it’s of the Christmas variety.
So one would think that the city parade honoring the Nashville Fury after winning the league championship would be a top-tier day in my book. Fans are lining the streets celebrating. All-day drinking is encouraged. Music is playing. The vibes are sky high.
Except for me. My vibes are crap. They have been all day and now that it’s over, they’re even worse.
It’s why instead of continuing the celebration at one of the many bars in Nashville with my teammates to commemorate our title, I’m sitting behind a makeshift stage, holding a beer I haven’t touched, and wondering what is even life?
Sure I have another title. Brand deals that keep my pockets lined and my schedule tight. I’m about to sign a new contract that is going to keep me in Nashville, as well as very well payed. I have everything I could ever want.
Except her.
“Okay, I’ve had it, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
It takes me a second to realize that Linc is talking to me, and that’s only because his words were accompanied by a smack upside the head by our fellow teammate and offensive lineman, Wyatt. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”
“He’s at least back to this planet,” Wyatt says. “Seriously, are you okay? All day you’ve been acting like a damn zombie.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I play off, knowing damn well I’m not fine. “Just a little drunk.”
“Try again,” Linc says. “I saw how you pretended to take every shot given to you today. I’d guess you’ve had no more than four drinks since we reported eight hours ago, which makes you fine to not only drive a car, but to have the ability to not look like someone ran over the dog you don’t have. So what gives?”
“Hey! Don’t bring Sir Barkley into this,” I say, naming the hypothetical shelter dog I plan on rescuing this offseason.
“And don’t use humor to deflect,” Wyatt scolds. “Talk.”
I look around to see who’s in listening range.
All of our teammates seemingly cleared out to either head back home, or keep the party rolling at one of the nearby bars.
There are bands playing on this stage for the rest of the day—when Nashville shuts down Broadway, the city makes the most of it—but for now, we’re as alone as we can be.
“Fine,” I say as I find a seat on a what I’m guessing will eventually house one of the speakers. “I’m in a funk. Nothing to worry about. I’m sure it’ll pass.”
Not exactly the truth, but not a lie either. Though judging by my teammates’ glances, neither of them are buying it.
“You’ve been in this funk since we got back from Vegas,” Linc says as he takes a seat next to me while Wyatt posts up in front of us, arms crossed like he’s a bouncer at a club. Which he could be with this three-hundred-pound frame.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I lie.
“Quit fucking lying,” Wyatt says. “When you got on the plane Monday morning I thought you were hungover. Then I saw you looking out of the plane window, headphones on, and I’m pretty sure you were mouthing the words to that song about being all by yourself.”
“No I wasn’t,” I say, though I’m not about to tell him the song was actually about being her mistake. Because that’s what I selfishly felt like—a mistake.
Which I know I wasn’t. Or, I don’t want to believe that to be true. But it’s what I was feeling at the time because this is apparently what Maddox Gallagher feels like when he’s the one who wakes up to an empty bed. Usually I’m the one leaving without saying goodbye.
“Wait!” Linc says. “Is this about the baker?”
I snap a look to him. “Her name is Gabi.”
“Who’s baker, Gabi?” Wyatt asks.
“This is what happens when you go off and have sex with your girlfriend instead of partying with us,” Linc says. “We met her when we went to the karaoke bar. And Gallagher over here fell in love.”
“No regrets,” Wyatt says with a smile. “I’d much rather celebrate my way rather than hearing you assholes sing.”
“Oh, but you missed quite the performance,” Linc says. “Especially from our boy here and his new lady love.”
“She’s not my lady love,” I say, though it comes out more like a tantrum. “She’s…”
I don’t have the words. I haven’t had the words to describe her since the moment she stepped on that stage.
Linc fills in Wyatt on what he missed, at least I think.
I only hear about half of it. Because like I’ve done many times over the last five days, I let my mind travel back to that night and replay every moment.
Except the moment when I woke up to find her gone. I have a feeling that’s about to come up once Linc gets Wyatt up to speed. So for now I’m going to remember the great parts of the night.
Seeing her come up on stage for the first time. Her sequin dress catching every one of the stage lights as her smile caught the rest.
The way we vibed on stage, like we’d been performing together our entire lives.
How she felt against me when we danced. How she tasted of champagne when I kissed her.
How even after one night and being in a sweaty Vegas bar, I could smell her sweet scent on the pillow when she wasn’t there the next morning.
But more than anything, and what has been haunting my dreams every night this week, are her eyes.
Those damn green eyes that I’m pretty sure I watched go through every emotion in one night.
I saw them light up in excitement. I saw them darken in passion.
I saw them vulnerable when she broke down.
I saw them roll back into her head when I made her come apart.
That one was my favorite.
“So yeah, then Gallagher up and left us to go celebrate with some woman he met that night. Totally abandoned us.”
“Hey!” I yell in my partial defense as I only heard the last part of what he said. “I said goodbye and she’s not some woman.”
My defensive reaction gets a big smile from my teammate.
“I know. And her name is Gabi and she was great. But it was clear you were in lala land and I needed to get your attention somehow.”
“You could’ve just said ‘Hey! Maddox!’”
“We did,” Wyatt says. “Now talk. Because clearly, this woman has you all sorts of torn up.”
I hang my head, not quite sure how to voice all of this out loud. Not because I’m not one to share—I probably tell these guys too much about my personal life—but never before have I felt a weight to it.
“Okay, fine. Yes. It’s about her. She… I don’t know. She got to me that night. I really did feel something more than a just a fun night in Vegas. And it was, believe me it was. Then, poof, she was gone.”
“What do you mean she was gone?” Wyatt asks.
“I mean she was gone.” I sit up enough to pull my wallet out of my back pocket, where the note she wrote me has been living since I found it. “When I woke up Monday, this was all that was left.”
Maddox,
I hope you don’t mind, but I stole a T-shirt and sweatpants. My dress was… yeah.
Thank you for a night I’ll never forget.
<3 Gabrielle
When I woke up that morning and found the bed empty, I’d hoped she had just got up to use the bathroom. When she didn’t come back, and I didn’t hear anything except the air conditioner, I knew I was alone.
I don’t know if the note made it better or worse.
I appreciated that she left it, and that she told me she took some of my clothes.
But I would have given her every piece of clothing I own and taken her to buy a whole new wardrobe for a few more minutes with her.
Sure, I was looking forward to morning sex.
It’s my second favorite kind of sex. But what I wanted more than anything else was to see if what I felt was real, or if it was part of the magic of the night.
“Damn,” Wyatt says. “She left?”
“Yup,” I say, taking the note back from Linc. “I didn’t even hear her go.”
The two of them share a grin. “What are you two assholes smiling at? I’m going through it and you two are fucking smiling!”
“I’m just saying, karma is a fickle creature,” Wyatt says. “Is this what Maddox Gallagher gets for all the times he’s left before the sun came up?”
“All of those were different,” I defend, not wanting to admit Gabi leaving me is some sort of cosmic payback. “Every one of those women knew what they were getting into before events occurred.”
“Fair, but I still find it funny that the man who has made a name for himself around this town as the guy known for a good time but not a second time, is suddenly in his feels because a woman left and took a hoodie with her.”
“Give him some slack,” Linc says, and for a second, I think that this man is going to solidify himself as my best friend and defend me. “It was his favorite sweatshirt.”
“One, it was a T-shirt, and two, you’re both fucking assholes,” I say as I pop up from my makeshift seat. “I liked her okay? I liked her for more than one night. I still do. I want to see her. But I can’t and that’s driving me absolutely fucking insane which is why I’m sober and sad on parade day.”
“Damn,” Wyatt says, taking a seat where I just was. “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” I say. “Did you think I wasn’t?”
“Honestly? We didn’t know,” Linc says. “We call you The Enigma for a reason. We never know what you’re doing or thinking and when we do, you go and do something that completely contradicts it. At least you have in the past. We didn’t know she was that different.”
They’re not wrong about that. For my entire life, I’ve never fit into one specific box. I was the jock who also was in the school musicals. I was friends with the robotics team and the wrestling team. The two girlfriends I had in high school were a cheerleader and the captain of the math club.
Those glasses really did something to me…