22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Maddox
“Ok, I’m done.” I drop my palms onto the couch, my arms burning from shaking Trace’s makeshift bull that’s set up in my mother’s living room.
“One more. Pleeaase,” he begs.
“It’s bath time, mister.” My sister walks into the living room, bending down to pick up his rope and spurs. “You’re filthy. You need to get clean before super.”
“But mom….”
“No buts. Go.” She points.
His arms cross. “You ruin all the fun.”
“Trace.” My voice is stern, and he knows I mean business.
“Yes ma’am,” he finally mumbles before he holds out his fist and I tap it with mine.
“Bye Uncle Mads.”
“Later kid.” I ruffle his hair when he walks by.
Laiken sighs and leans against the door frame. Pushing to my feet, I approach her and tug her in for a hug.
“You’re doing a good job, Laik.”
“Am I?” She pulls away, placing the items in her hand into the box full of farm animal figurines that’s tucked in the corner. “I’m a twenty-five-year-old single mom who still lives with her mother. And apparently, I’m no fun.”
I chuckle. “You’re a badass mom, who worked hard to become a physical therapist and you’re saving for your future.”
Laiken has a bad habit of always thinking she’s screwing up. She doesn’t see the things she’s accomplished.
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for that scholarship I wouldn’t have that degree.” She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her purple scrubs.
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her as her eyes mist over. “Dad would be proud of you.”
She nods. “I know.” She steps to me again. “Thanks, Mads.”
I press a quick kiss to her hair as mom bounds down the stairs.
“I’m off.” She clasps her favorite silver necklace around her neck.
“I fixed the fire alarm, and your AC filter is changed as well,” I tell her.
“You’re going to make some woman a fine handy man one day.” She pushes up on the toes of her sneakers and plants a kiss on my cheek. “How’s Ivy? The boys? I talked to Ruthie yesterday. She said Emmett is doing better.”
“They’re fine. Taking it one day at a time.”
She pats my shoulder. “Be safe. Love you both.”
She rushes out, just as Trace bellows from upstairs. “Mom! Hurry! There’s something weird under my toodle!”
A laugh barks from my chest as Laiken groans. “God had to give me a boy, didn’t he?”
With my laugh still shaking my shoulders, I leave my sister to deal with the anatomy questions and climb in my truck.
Walking into the cabin, I go straight to the pantry and grab a can of ravioli. As a man, I don’t need much. Food, sleep, a release every now and then, and this ranch. I’m simple. Which is why I use the handheld can opener to pop off the top and grab a spoon from the drawer to begin eating my dinner.
I dip into the can, about to wrap my lips around the square noodle of cheese when I hear a gasp from behind me.
I spin around to see Ivy at the threshold of the kitchen. Her hair that was down earlier is tied into a knot on top of her head, her legs bare beneath some cotton shorts. A sorry excuse for a tank top is covering her torso. She’s barefoot, her white painted toenails the brightest thing in this cabin apart from her green eyes.
“Maddox. That’s disgusting.”
“What?” I look down at the spoon. “It’s Chef Boyardee.”
“It’s cold.” She grimaces.
“And?” I lift a brow while purposely keeping eye contact as I place the spoonful in my mouth.
“I don’t understand men,” she scoffs. “Give me that.”
With one swift move she plucks it from my hand and drops it in the trashcan next to the fridge. “I’ll cook something.”
Cook something? With what? I haven’t been to the store in two weeks.
She reaches for the fridge, and opens it, revealing fully stocked shelves. I frown and she notices.
“I went to the store. If I’m going to be stuck here for the next couple of weeks, I’d rather not starve.”
“Thanks?” It comes out as a question.
I know she would rather be anywhere else. She hates me, and I have no one to blame but myself. But even though she despises me with every fiber of her being, here she is about to cook me dinner. Because Ivy Mayson is as good as fucking gold.