Chapter Forty-Three
Rayne
During the entire drive to Static, I tell myself I’m not going because I miss Maddie like crazy.
It would be a lie, a bold-faced one at that, because every atom of my being is suffering from withdrawals. It’s only been three days since we saw her properly, her work keeping her away from the apartment more than she’s there, and apparently, it’s having a negative effect on my psyche.
It would definitely be the first time a woman has ever affected me this way, but I’m not surprised, because Madison Fowler is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.
I’ve grown addicted to her, attached in ways that actually scare me, which is crazy given I was the one who dropped this relationship on her.
I confessed I liked her, and yet I’m terrified of admitting I’ve become the kind of guy who grows restless after forty-eight hours without seeing her wavy blue hair, her pale eyes, and her slender body tucked away beneath one of my hoodies.
By the time I pull up, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t actually miss her as much as my head and heart are screaming I do, but rather that I’m checking in on her.
Making sure she’s alive, eating, functioning like a normal human.
I’m already aware of what a crackhead she turns into when she’s in too deep with work, and her ability to take care of herself often flies out the window, the only things she’s capable of being showering and crashing in her bed during heavy workloads.
I’ve seen it more than once over the months I’ve known her. It’s scary. I don’t want to see it again.
It’s with that little pep talk that I walk to the front door of her studio, scanning the badge she made for me. She’s made one for Bax, Caid, and Ry, too, allowing us all access to every inch of her life, putting a level of trust in us that makes my chest ache something fierce.
The moment I walk inside, a familiar warmth hits me.
Music hums faintly through the lobby, and sunlight pours across the room from the massive wall of windows that lines the front of the building.
People are moving through the studio carrying lighting equipment and black clothing bags, others are hurrying around with tablets clutched in their hands, and I spy one carrying two trays of iced coffees like his life depends on that particular delivery.
It’s pure chaos. Creative chaos that Maddie somehow fits into perfectly.
The receptionist spots me first, Freya, I think her name is, and she grins immediately. “Oh! You’re here for Madison.”
I pause, the fact that it’s not even a question doing something weird to my chest. Doing my best to ignore it, I nod and ask, “Is she around?”
Freya points toward a side room just before the office I know is stationed at the end of the long hallway, explaining, “She’s currently trying to survive three deadlines and two mental breakdowns. Editing room one. Can’t miss her.”
“Two?” I murmur, raising a questioning eyebrow at how casually she says it, like it’s just another day for her.
“It’s a good day,” Freya quips, and my lips twitch before I tap the desk and thank her.
I find Maddie exactly where Freya instructed, and my breath catches at the sight of her.
Curled sideways in an office chair, one of her feet tucked beneath her and her blue hair piled messily on top of her head, I take in the sight of her dragging her mouse back and forth across three different monitors at speeds I never knew a mouse could move.
She’s editing several photos of a model with fair skin and pale-blond hair, and I recognize her as an actress in a popular TV show currently airing.
There’s an empty iced coffee beside her keyboard, and another half-finished one closer to the hand that is controlling the mouse like it owes her money.
The three monitors should look excessive, the glow highlighting the concentration on her face, but they somehow look like extensions of her brain.
I can’t help but lean on the doorframe and watch a little while longer.
She swipes and clicks with perfect precision, giving off the same level of intensity as a hacker in a spy movie, and the first proper smile I’ve felt pull at my lips in three days finally breaks free.
It’s how Maddie finds me five seconds later, like she was aware of my presence but had to finish what she was doing before acknowledging me first. When she turns in her chair, her vibrant eyes meet mine like she knew exactly where to look, and her entire face changes instantly, softening like I’ve only ever seen when she’s with us.
“Hey, you,” she says, smiling like she couldn’t be happier to see me.
That weird feeling in my chest grows worse, like it’s begging me to acknowledge it and stop running from it.
I can’t help it. Every time I think I’m ready to embrace every emotion running through me, I remember why I bottle it all.
That’s growing increasingly difficult to do when Maddie looks at me like I hung the moon.
It’s the same look she gave me three nights ago, and I almost convinced myself that what I was looking at was the face of a woman who had just realized she was in love.
Of course, I bottled that, too.
I’m a fucking coward.
Yet I’m here, because I needed to see that look again. I wanted to be near her. I fucking missed her, damn it.
Clearing my throat, I step into the editing room and comment, “Good to see you’re alive. I was starting to think you were claimed by aliens or something.”
She snorts, watching me intently. “The aliens would have brought me right back after an hour of hearing me bitch about my deadlines. I’ve just been here, working myself to the bone, living life, you know?”
“An hour is generous,” I joke lightly, and I’m rewarded with Maddie’s beautiful laughter.
With her head tilted back, I drop a kiss to her forehead, the action coming automatically. It makes me pause again, Maddie’s laughter turning into a happy little hum at the contact.
There goes the funny feeling in my chest again.
Ignoring it like I’ve become a professional in denial, I ask quietly, “You busy tonight?”
Maddie sighs, leaning her head against my stomach, and grumbles, “Violently. I have another shoot in an hour, and then more editing. Zeke, Jolie, Gretchen, and I crammed more into the next couple of weeks so I could take those two weeks off, so I’m running a mile a minute. I miss my bed.”
My thumbs are moving before I can think better of it, lightly brushing her cheeks as she peers up at me.
It’s something I’ve been doing a lot over the last few weeks, lying on her, soaking in her warmth, finding ways to constantly touch her.
It’s like I’m not at peace if I don’t get my fix, like one touch or cuddle from her solves every issue I’ve ever had.
The touch brings her eyes back to mine, and something settles between us that makes me swallow hard, my chest tightening with all the emotions and feelings I’ve been trying to keep under lock and key.
I already feel like I’ve been giving too much without giving much at all, and the weird feeling in my chest is only making everything more confusing.
My mouth is moving before my brain forms the thoughts, and I say, “Come over after? Or I can pick you up from here?”
The smile Maddie gives me almost ruins me completely. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay, sounds good,” she agrees softly, and I make my leave right after that, giving her only a swift kiss to her forehead before I wander right back out of her studio with a thundering heart and the monster of my past clinging to my back.
I spend the rest of my day trying to neatly fold and lock away the emotions that keep bubbling to the surface anytime Maddie is around.
It only takes one smile, one soft look, and I fold for her every single time.
But the more time I spend with her, the greedier I get with wanting to be near her, around her, in the same fucking airspace, the more I realize that handling these emotions is becoming harder and harder.
By the time I drive back to Static that evening, the studio looks a little different.
It’s darker outside, but far busier inside.
The music is louder now, bass faintly vibrating through the floor while Maddie’s assistants rush around carrying bottled waters and equipment, wearing nothing more than shorts and light T-shirts as though they’re in the hottest location on the planet.
I follow after them, sure I’ll find Maddie if I trace their steps. Sure enough, I spot her immediately.
And then I instantly wish I hadn’t.
She’s standing near the backdrop setup in nothing more than a pair of tiny black shorts that show off her toned legs and curved ass and a black cropped T-shirt that reveals her navel and a thick strip of creamy skin, her skin flushed from heat while a thin sheen of sweat glistens along her throat and stomach beneath the harsh studio lights.
Her hair is still tied in the same messy bun as earlier, only somehow messier, with several strands framing her face and sticking to her temple and neck.
What has me wishing to bury my head into the ground are the three male models standing nearby, laughing at something Maddie has said while she adjusts her camera, completely unaware of the fact that she’s currently frying my sanity without even trying.
When one of the models touches her waist casually while moving around her, my jaw tightens so fast that it forms an instant ache.
What the actual fuck?
The feeling hits so hard that it actually shocks me, especially after willingly and happily sharing Maddie with three of my best friends.
But seeing another man touch her sends me into a spiral of jealousy that burns.
It’s not just a mild irritation, not uncomfortable.
It’s dark, it’s possessive, and all-consuming.
Because Maddie is mine. Not theirs.