Chapter Twenty-Six
Rayne
“Oh, fuck me dead,” I hear from outside, and I pause, frowning at the carton of juice I just pulled out of the fridge. I tilt my head, straining my ears, and sure enough, I hear, “Was that step always there?”
I’d recognize Maddie’s voice anywhere, no matter how long passes without hearing it.
The past three days have been pretty miserable without her, throwing me right back into the world I was living in where she didn’t exist, only worse.
Because I know she does exist now, and she’s been ignoring us for almost a whole working week, even though I have no idea why.
Apparently, Ryan spoke to her last, and the night she was meant to come over for dinner, she told him she felt sick.
We’ve barely received a single text since, haven’t heard her voice, and haven’t seen her until tonight, where she was literally being dragged away by three women I knew straight away.
Not because I’ve met them before, but because Maddie has spoken about her best friends over the past two months so much that I already feel like I know them.
Hell, I knew who each woman was with a single glance, thanks to Maddie’s photos and social media.
It’s the only reason Bax and I didn’t step in when she was being carted off to hell knows where.
That, and the defeated but expectant look on Maddie’s face as Ashton and Zelda grabbed her like they’d planned the kidnapping down to a science I’m almost impressed by.
How the hell did they know where she was?
It’s almost like they were hiding in bushes, waiting for her to come home before they pounced.
Despite knowing it was the legendary best friends kidnapping Maddie, it still took an uncomfortable amount of strength to stand back and watch her leave again, especially after receiving nothing but radio silence from the woman who has taken up residence in my head and refuses to move out.
I didn’t realize until she wasn’t there anymore how much I’d started relying on our dinners together, how much I enjoy spending time with her, and I never could have anticipated just how much I like her.
And that was the biggest hitter of all.
As soon as she was gone, I missed her like I’ve never missed anything before in my life, and I’m a guy who has lost a lot.
I fought tooth and nail not to call her, not to barge up to her apartment, not to demand to know why we were getting the cold shoulder all of a sudden.
Twice, I’ve found myself standing outside her apartment door, on the brink of knocking before thinking better of it.
I’ve heard her coming and going every single day, fighting to stay in place, knowing she’s going to work early and coming home late to avoid us.
I’ve hated every second of it, because there has been one constant in my life since we moved here, and that has been Maddie Fowler. From day one, that blue-haired bottle of mayhem has been the only recurring aspect of my life that I’ve enjoyed.
“Why did I take the stairs?” I hear, a little closer than before, and I frown as I check the clock Ryan hung in the kitchen.
It’s almost scraping three o’clock in the morning, the other guys are sleeping, and I’m still awake after another night of restless tossing and turning, no thanks to the pain in the ass muttering to herself just outside my apartment.
“This is how I die. The stairs. I’m going to perish because of the fucking stairs.
I figured a rogue rotisserie chicken would take me out before the stairs did. ”
I snort, shaking my head and putting the carton of juice back in the fridge before hurrying to my front door, where I lean my ear against it and listen to the woman having a one-way conversation with herself.
“Murdered by architecture. I really expected something sexier. Maybe electrocution by vibrator. That would be a funny way to go,” she slurs, right before I hear a bump and a curse.
“Fucking stairs. I’d take assassination over this shit.
Who even invented gravy? Wait, no, not that.
What’s that thing that keeps your feet on the ground? ”
Biting my lip to stop myself from actually laughing, I reach for the door handle and open the door slowly, peering out of the small crack to find Maddie stumbling up the stairs with her hands braced on the steps in front of her like she needs them for support.
It doesn’t help my urge to laugh, and it takes everything in me to keep it bottled, never finding anything this funny.
Maybe it’s because I’m finally seeing her again, in all of her wacky glory that I’ve missed chronically.
“My obituary will read ‘death by cardio.’ This is hell,” she grumbles, words jumbled together in an alcohol-induced slur that makes it funnier, and I open the door a little wider just as she reaches the landing before the next set of stairs that will lead her to her apartment.
She eyes them like they’re the devil before shaking her head clumsily and dropping it back with a pitiful mewl. “I was prepared for death via cult. Or maybe choking on a… wait, where’s my burger? Oh man, this night sucks. There’s more stairs and I don’t even have my burger to make me feel better.”
It almost sounds like she’s on the brink of tears, and I can’t take anymore, laughing under my breath as I stuff my feet into a pair of Caid’s sneakers and step outside.
Maddie is already tackling the next steps, drunkenly seething, “Imagine explaining this to the paramedics. Like, ‘Yeah, she fought a building and lost.’ My life is a tragedy. We should make a documentary of it.”
“Anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are?” I snicker just as I reach her, bending to pick her off the stairs she’s almost sprawled over.
She nods as she stands, puckering her lips before confessing, “I’ve heard it a time or two, thank you for asking. Next question, Steve.”
My grin is slow as I watch her fight to stand upright, blinking up at me with a grogginess only alcohol can induce, and I find it the cutest fucking thing in the world.
That alone tells me how sunk I am, because every ounce of annoyance I’ve felt over the past week disappears the moment those pale-blue eyes meet mine.
Despite their glassiness, they’re the prettiest set of eyes I’ve ever seen, mostly because they belong to the maddening beauty peering up at me from her slumped position against the wall.
A frown puckers her brow the next moment, and I take a step closer, swallowing hard as I drag a newfound courage out of my ass and reach for her messy hair. I tuck a blue strand behind her ear and ask, “Why are you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy, mayhem?”
Maddie huffs, but I don’t miss the way she leans into my touch, her words just about distracting me from the action. “This week sucked. You know why?”
“Tell me,” I demand quietly, catching her when she starts tilting to the left.
“Because you guys weren’t there. You’ve ruined my life,” she dramatically wails, slinging her arms out like a teen having a tantrum, and I bite my lip as I close my eyes, fighting the amusement only Maddie brings out in me.
When she starts tilting in the opposite direction, my grin breaks free, my hands darting out to catch her.
Suddenly, she points a wobbly finger in my face and pouts.
“That right there. Ruined. Demolished. Completely flattened. Why don’t you smile like that all the time?
” she accuses, unfocused eyes watching my lips with a whole lot of effort.
Then she shakes her head and mutters, “Actually, no, it’s for the best that you don’t. My vagina can’t take it.”
The laugh that comes out of me is choked and sudden, startling Maddie enough that all anger and annoyance washes away, replaced with a beautiful drunk-soft smile I want to fucking drown in.
Then she slays me when she slurs, “That’s one of the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard the glorious sound of chicken being fried. ”
“You saying I laugh better than the sound of fried chicken?” I ask, amused to hell and unable to stop smiling. I’ve only ever witnessed Maddie drunk once, and she passed out pretty soon after drinking. This Maddie is something else, and I can’t say I’m not enjoying it.
“Mhm,” she agrees seriously. Or, as seriously as a drunk woman can. She smiles like it’s a severe conversation, slaps a sloppy hand to her chest, and whispers, “I fucking love chicken.”
I have to shut my eyes again, finding way too much amusement in this entire conversation right now. When I control myself, I open my eyes to find Maddie leaning so close that her forehead almost bumps my chin.
Huffing a laugh, I ask, “Why are you taking the stairs, anyway?”
Maddie sighs, a long-suffering sound, before she grumbles, “I couldn’t figure out the elevator. I keep seeing two of everything.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, shaking my head when Maddie looks down pitifully. “You’re killing me here.”
“A better death than the stairs,” she grumbles, glaring at the remaining stairs she has to walk to get to her apartment. Then she nods and admits, “Some women die for love. I’m apparently destined to die because I had to walk up stairs without a burger.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I decide to help the woman out, bending at the knees and scooping her into my arms before she can protest. With the way she’s bitching about the stairs, I can’t actually imagine she would.
I’m proven right when I start walking up the stairs with her in my arms, and she sighs and drops her head back, falling limp in my hold as she breathes, “I’m saved.
Glory hallelujah, the stairs won’t take me tonight. ”
Laughing, I ask, “Why are you on your own, anyway? That’s not safe, Mads.”