Chapter Forty-Seven
Baxter
I’m pretty sure I haven’t unclenched my jaw since last night, clinging to the ache for all I’m worth, because it’s the only thing keeping me grounded enough that I don’t charge back to the station and beat the shit out of Toby fucking Moore.
Maddie notices, obviously, because she notices everything.
“Bax,” she sighs, probably for the tenth time this morning, leaning against the kitchen island with a coffee mug hugged between her dainty hands.
“If you grind your teeth any harder, they’ll fall out.
Is that what you want? I’ll have to start calling you Toothless, and that’ll make us both look stupid. ”
I can’t respond. Can’t even muster a smile at her amusing words, even if I do find them funny, because I’m busy staring at the bruises that now wrap faintly around her wrist. It’s one of several injuries she gained last night.
I don’t even want to talk about the bruises on the back of her arm that are shaped the same as a person’s nails.
“I’m fine, Bax,” she assures gently.
“You got assaulted,” I remind her, finally looking up into those icy-blue eyes that always seem to melt when she looks at me or the others. It’s the only thing that calms me, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
She only shrugs. “And he got arrested not even an hour later.”
“That doesn’t make things all better, Sunshine,” I tell her, and her expression softens slightly at that, which somehow makes things feel worse.
Because she’s acting normal, too normal.
She’s editing photos in one of my shirts she slept in, cracking jokes like always, stealing food off my plate anytime she passes.
I’m pretty sure she’s doing that one on purpose, finding ways to walk by and steal a fry or two as a form of Maddie Tax.
She’s existing like her day didn’t end with blood on her mouth and me one bad decision away from catching a fucking felony.
It was close, for sure, but I somehow got through the night without ending up behind bars and joining that fucker who hurt her.
Meanwhile, every single protective instinct I have has been vibrating like a live wire. I’ve been on edge all damned day, thankful that it’s the weekend so I can actually watch over Maddie without worrying about her at work.
By noon, things somehow get worse. I didn’t think it was possible, but Maddie always likes to remind us the universe has a funny way of humbling a person.
I’ve heard countless times how convinced she is that the universe is out to get her, and I understand exactly what she means when Caid scrambles up from his lounging position on the couch across from me and says, “Uh, guys? You might want to take a look at this.”
Maddie looks over her laptop at Caid, eyes questioning, and he stands and takes his cell phone to her. I watch her expression closely, watching every change with intense focus. When only shock stays plastered over her beautiful face, I stand and walk over to her, looking down at Caid’s phone.
And then I freeze when my eyes take in the photos.
Photos of us.
Me and Maddie leaving the apartment last week. Ryan kissing her forehead outside Static. Rayne holding her hand while crossing the street outside Blackline. Caiden carrying her over his shoulder like a damned caveman outside his gym.
Of course, the internet is doing what it does best.
Shitting itself and losing its goddamned mind.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but seeing Maddie splashed across several headlines and popular tabloids throws me for a loop.
I often forget she’s the daughter of two famous actors and owns a heavy dose of fame from her own career, so seeing our photos plastered over the internet is a brainfuck of a magnitude that somehow calms me down from a Toby-induced fury.
“Wait, what?” Maddie blurts, reaching for Caid’s phone and scrolling through several articles. “Oh my God, someone has been busy. Who the hell has been following me close enough to gather so many photos? I mean, at least we look cute, right?”
She shakes her head, right before her eyes widen. And then she bursts out laughing, and I worry, not for the first time, whether or not my woman has finally lost her mind. Because it’s not just a normal chuckle, but a full-body laugh that has me blinking down at her in shock.
“Sunshine?” I cautiously question, eyeing her and then the phone before my eyes go back to her again.
“Sorry,” she wheezes, wiping a finger beneath her eye. “I’m just reading the comments. Someone wrote, ‘She’s collected dudes like the Infinity Stones.’ That shit is funny.”
Caiden’s lips twitch, and I have to close my eyes at the sudden swell of amusement that breaks through every other emotion I’ve been feeling since last night.
“‘Biblically impressive behavior,’ another has said, and honestly? I’m pressing the like button on that one,” she reads, actually pressing the thumbs-up and nodding like she’s done her civil duty for the day.
And then she reads on. “This one is gold. ‘Girly is collecting men like she’s building an army of Pokémon. I respect it, but damn, leave some for the rest of us.’ Whoever that commenter is, I hope her pillows remain cold on both sides and may her Coke never lose its fizz. ”
The three of us are quiet for a moment while we continue reading, Maddie chuckling every now and then as we go through comments.
Some are hilarious, some are downright vicious, and some are simply trolls vying for attention.
But we read through them all, finding more amusement in them than I would have imagined.
feralforfeet: Imagine needing four men to tolerate your personality lmao
garlicbread: four guys? in THIS economy? Can’t tell if she’s brave, stupid, or both
inmyrottingera: I’m out here choosing the bear while she’s getting railed by four dudes. gross.
yournanswheelchair: one of those dudes absolutely barks during sex, can’t tell me otherwise.
duckwithwifi: Absolutely diabolical. Where can I sign up?
anxiousspoon: Can’t imagine signing up to have my peace ruined by four separate men. One is bad enough wtf
toasterbath: I’m not saying her vagina is a revolving door, but I know those flaps have parted more times than she can probably count.
deadinsidelol: Are these live, laugh, love conditions?
sneakingsockstosurvive: Bro, how do they even argue? Is there like a queue or something? Take a ticket? Damn.
“Comment sections are always funnier than the actual subject matter,” Maddie sighs, wiping away more tears, and I shake my head at her ability to brush things off so naturally. It’s like water off a duck’s back, and I can’t help but look down at her with pure amazement.
I should probably be more worried about this shit than I am, but watching her laugh like that after yesterday gives me the ability to breathe normally again.
It’s like she brings the oxygen back into the room, my chest filling without strain for the first time since she showed up on our doorstep with a bloodied lip, teary eyes, and a shaking body I thought would topple if we moved toward her too fast.
I’m not sure how long Maddie spends looking through comments, taking phone calls from her best friends to share the comment threads onward, or dodging calls from tabloids. It lasts a while, and by dinner, I’m convinced Maddie will be lost to us for the remainder of the night.
That is, until she receives a phone call and answers with a narrowed-eyed gaze and the smallest wince. I understand why when she puts her phone on speaker and answers, “Hey, Papa.”
My eyes widen in horror at the same time Caiden sends me a panicked look.
Ryan drops his cell onto the floor, the clatter of it sounding way too loud in the now-quiet apartment.
Rayne doesn’t bother moving from where he’s lying, his head on Maddie’s lap while he hugs her free arm to his chest. He does freeze suddenly, though, the only sign that he’s listening.
Bypassing a greeting, Maddie’s father, Nikolai Fowler, sighs and grumbles, “Your mother has been stress-eating pancakes all afternoon. You want to explain?”
“In my defense, I read that there were four of them. Four, Nicky. I knew she was a handful and that it would take a strong man to keep up with her, but FOUR? Where the hell did I put my syrup?” her mother chimes in.
“Mom, what the hell?” Maddie laughs, slapping her hand over her face.
“Did you just palm your face? Is that what they call it?” Sasha Fowler asks, her words a little muffled, and I can only imagine she’s stuffed her mouth with the pancakes she’s apparently been eating all day.
“It’s called a face-palm, and yes. Yes, I did,” Maddie replies calmly, shaking her head against the back of the couch.
I hear Nikolai scoff before he teases his wife, “Yeah, Sash. Get with the times. Would you put the fucking syrup down already? Jesus Christ.”
“Oh my God,” Maddie groans through another chuckle, and I grin over at her with nothing but baffled amusement.
I have to remind myself that they’re famous actors, much like I have to remind myself of Maddie’s notoriety.
They’re some of the biggest names in Hollywood, and hearing them have a conversation with Maddie like they’re just any other family is a mindfuck of epic proportions.
It doesn’t happen often, finding down-to-earth people in the world of fame, so I feel like I’ve hit a diamond mine when I hear how similar Sasha and Nikolai are to Maddie. Makes sense, since they raised her.
“Get your filthy paws away from my plate, Nikolai Sokolov,” Sasha warns fiercely, and I blink at Maddie just as she turns to face me.
She shakes her head and mouths, “Dad’s real name. He took Mom’s name when they married.”
Huh. That’s cool.