44 MADDY
MADDY
Don't let yourself feel anything
Jacob.
He drops down beside me without asking. Way too close. The warmth from the fire disappears like someone flipped a switch.
“Well,” he says, voice low and slick. “Didn’t take long for things to fall apart, huh?”
I keep my eyes on the fire, breathing slow, even though every muscle in my body is locked.
“So what was the deal?” he goes on casually, tilting his head. “You and him, was it real? Or were you just trying to piss me off?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat feels glued shut.
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
I try to shift away, but his hand lands on my leg, and everything inside me goes still. His fingers press into my skin, and not in a good way.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice low but firm as I finally turn to meet his gaze. “Just leave me alone, Jacob.”
He shifts closer anyway, his side pressing against mine. “Relax, Maddy. We’re just talking.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, I try to pull my knee back—but his grip tightens, his hand digging harder into my thigh. A sharp breath leaves me.
He leans in, his face too close now, the ends of his blonde hair brushing against my neck.
“Deep down,” he murmurs, “you know it’s me you want.”
The air feels heavy, like it’s been sucked out of the space around us. He moves even closer, his cologne overwhelming, making it feel like I can’t breathe—
“Get the fuck away from her.”
Ryan.
His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts clean through the noise of the beach, sharp enough to make my heart stutter.
I turn. He’s standing a few steps behind us, hoodie pulled back on, hair still damp from the ocean. His chest rises too fast, fists clenched at his sides so tightly his knuckles have gone pale. And there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Not even at the dance.
Jacob rises slowly, like he has all the time in the world. His hand slowly drags off my knee as he stands, in a way that sends something cold crawling up my spine.
“Well,” he says, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Look who decided to show up.”
Ryan’s eyes stay fixed on Jacob. There’s masculinity written all across his face as he tilts his head. “Move. Now.”
Jacob lets out a quiet laugh. “We’re just talking.”
“Jacob, stop,” I say quickly, although it barely comes out. But Jacob doesn’t even look at me. His eyes stay locked on Ryan.
“Isn’t that what people do after they break up?” he says lightly. “Talk about how fake everything was?”
Ryan’s gaze snaps to mine. Confusion flashes across his face so suddenly it almost hurts to see—like he thinks I told him. About the deal. About us.
“Ryan…” I say softly, my voice barely steady, hoping he hears everything I can’t say out loud.
For a second, he doesn’t move. Like he’s forcing himself to think clearly. Then his eyes shift back to Jacob.
“Just get the fuck out of here,” he says quietly.
I feel that dangerous shift settle into the air between them as Jacob notices the look between us, and his smile only widens.
“Oh, come on,” he says. “You can’t tell me you actually believed any of that. The cute dates. The hand-holding. The whole perfect-girlfriend act.”
Ryan’s fists clench tighter at his sides, knuckles paling.
Jacob huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Aww what? You actually fell for it? You really believed this bitch wanted you?”
“Don’t you dare call her that,” Ryan interrupts, so firmly it’s almost worse than yelling.
“Face it,” Jacob adds, voice softer now. “She was just passing time. Little fake romance to make me jealous.”
He tilts his head, studying Ryan. “Because at the end of the day…” he continues, a smirk pulling at his mouth, “she wants me.”
A sharp, humourless breath leaves Ryan, almost a laugh. “She doesn’t fucking want you.”
Jacob’s smile widens.
“Oh, really?” he says lightly. “Could’ve fooled me. I can definitely recall her moaning that into my ear.”
Ryan goes completely still. He looks livid. His jaw tightens so hard it looks painful.
“Jacob, shut up,” I say, but he isn’t listening. He’s watching Ryan. He’s enjoying every reaction he can get out of him, and he keeps pushing. But Ryan doesn’t move, or blink. Doesn’t even seem to fucking breathe.
I look at him, panic rising fast and sharp in my chest. For half a second, his eyes flick to mine. And what I see there isn’t just anger. It’s hurt. Deep and barely held together. Jacob sees it too—and goes in for the kill.
“Didn’t she tell you?” he asks, voice almost curious. “How it wasn’t real?”
My breath catches. “Stop.”
Jacob tilts his head slightly, still watching Ryan. “She was just sitting with me and talking about how fake it all—”
Ryan’s fist slams into his jaw before he can finish. The sound cracks through the night—sharp, violent—loud enough to turn heads all around the fire as Jacob’s body whips sideways and crashes hard into the sand.
My breath lodges in my throat.
Oh my God.
For one suspended second, it feels like the entire beach forgets how to move. Gasps ripple through the crowd. The music cuts off abruptly, leaving nothing but the crash of waves and the crackle of the fire filling the sudden silence.
Jacob groans as he pushes himself up, sand clinging to his palms. The shock drains from his face almost instantly, replaced by anger.
Before I can move, or even say stop, he lunges forward and drives his fist straight into Ryan’s cheek.
“STOP!” I scream. But they’re already going at each other. Fists swing. Sand kicks up beneath their feet. Shouts ripple through the crowd as people rush closer, a loose circle forming around them. Someone yells. Someone else is already filming.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jacob lands another hit to Ryan’s ribs, but Ryan shoves him back and tackles him hard into the ground. There’s no hesitation in him, just pure rage.
Jacob spits blood into the sand and lets out a breathless, cruel laugh. “Look at you,” he sneers. “Just like your old man, huh?”
Ryan’s grip tightens in Jacob’s shirt and something in his face shifts. Like a wound tearing open.
“Say that again,” he growls, his voice shaking with something far worse than anger.
“Ryan!” I shout, already rushing forward.
I barely register the hand grabbing my shoulder until I turn and see Noah beside me, Liam already pushing past us toward the fight. On my other side, Mel and Kiara’s voices blur together—
“Mads, what’s happening?!”
“What the hell is going on?”
Noah and Liam reach them in seconds.
“Ryan, get off him!” Noah yells.
Liam hooks his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and hauls him back with force while Noah shoves Jacob the opposite way, holding him there as Jacob struggles and swears.
“Let go of me!” Ryan shouts, still fighting against Liam’s grip.
“Calm down, man!” Liam snaps.
The crowd presses closer, voices overlapping, phones lifted high into the air. My heart is pounding so hard it makes me dizzy.
Jacob jerks against Noah’s hold, glaring at Ryan with blood on his lip. “You think you’re better than me?” he spits. “You’re exactly the same—”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Walker!” Ryan fires back, still straining forward.
I step in front of him, grabbing the front of his hoodie, both hands flat against his chest. His heart is slamming hard beneath my palms, like fucking drums.
“Ryan,” I say, breath shaking—but he doesn’t see me.
“Ryan!”
His eyes finally snap to mine. They’re wild and dark.
“Come with me,” I say, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Now.”
He hesitates, just long enough to glance past me at Jacob, who’s still restrained in Noah’s grip, breathing hard, furious.
“Now!” I repeat.
Something in Ryan’s expression shifts—and finally, he nods once. Liam slowly loosens his hold. And I don’t wait. I grab his hand and pull him with me, straight through the crowd.
Behind us, Noah’s voice cuts sharp through the noise, full of warning, while Kiara and Mel wave people back. “Go on! There is nothing to see here.”
We push through the swarm of people and all I can hear is my own heartbeat and Ryan’s breathing beside me, rough and out of sync. I feel his pulse raising against my fingers.
I don’t let go of his hand until we’re well clear of the crowd, until the noise fades into nothing and it’s just the two of us and the dark path leading home.
We reach my house. The porch light is off, the windows dark, everything quiet. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely get the keys out of the pocket of my shorts, but I try to hide the fact that I’m freaking the fuck out.
It takes me two tries to get the key in the lock.
The door finally opens, and I step inside, immediately moving aside to let him in.
Ryan follows me in, closing the door softly behind us, and the quiet of the house settles around us almost instantly.
Only the hallway lamp is on, casting a warm, dim glow across the floor. Everything else is shadows.
He doesn’t say anything. He just walks into the living room and leans back against the wall, one hand pressing instinctively to his ribs. His head tips back, eyes closing for a second.
“You’re bleeding. Sit down,” I say, the words coming out more like a command.
“I’m fine,” he responds, but his voice is rough and breathless.
“It wasn’t a question. Sit down.”
He hesitates for a second before finally moving to the kitchen bar stool, lowering himself onto it with a quiet exhale.
I disappear down the hallway and grab the small white emergency kit from the cabinet.
My fingers are unsteady as I carry it back, my breath catching somewhere between my chest and my throat.
When I step into the living room again, he’s sitting there—hair still damp and messy, lip split, a faint smear of blood along his jaw.
His head tips back slightly, the movement sharpening the line of it in a way that makes something twist low in my stomach.
He watches me quietly as I set the kit beside him and pull out gauze, antiseptic, cotton pads. His dark eyes track every small movement of my hands. “Mads, you don’t have to—”
“Stop being stubborn,” I murmur, not looking up.
This time, he doesn’t argue.