Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
What day is it? Scratch that, what year is it?
I blink, feeling like my eyes are glued shut with gunk. My knee itches, and I reach my hand down to scratch it, but when I do, it hurts.
Hurts?
Slowly, I glance over at my phone. And that’s when last night creeps back to me.
Holy fudgesicle.
I sit straight up. I planned a…my stomach revolts at the idea. I never pictured myself planning something so cold-blooded. Can I live with myself knowing I’ve helped off someone?
Then I think about what Arthur did to Maddox, and my stomach revolts again.
Meh. I can live with myself. Guilt is reserved for doing something wrong. Ridding the world of an abuser isn’t wrong, and anyone who thinks so is part of the problem.
I wonder what Maddox would think, knowing Arthur is gone. Well, not gone yet. I guess they’re still gathering information on him. But what he’d think if Arthur were gone. I wonder if I’d see joy and relief on his face, knowing that Arthur finally got what was coming to him.
I check if Maddox ever responded to my messages, and that’s when I see he did a few hours ago. Immediately, I feel like jumping straight up in the air. Cheese and crackers, he did!
I devour the messages like they’re gooey cinnamon rolls right out of the oven.
Maddox made me a meal. Maddox made me food?? Me?
My vision gets cloudy. No one makes me food, not even my parents. They always hired someone to do that. It makes a little spot in my chest feel warm and fuzzy. Like it’s Christmas, but not Christmas as an adult, Christmas as a kid, when things are still magical.
My phone and I are out of bed and down the steps before I realize I haven’t thrown a shirt on. It’s too late to stop though, and I go sliding into the kitchen on my socked feet.
Maddox isn’t here.
I glance around. The condo is quiet, minus the disgruntled thump of Princess jumping out of bed. A quick peek outside shows Maddox’s car is gone.
I’m punched in the gut with something that feels cold and harsh. Why isn’t he here?
I check my messages again. It’s been almost three hours since he sent the last message.
Oh fudge, I didn’t even respond. He probably thinks I ignored him! A wash of frantic energy fills me, and I text back.
Me: Dagnabbit! I’m so sorry, I just woke up!
Me: Thank you so much, no one has ever done that for me before!
A quick check in the fridge makes me feel even more guilty because there is a plate measured out, covered in tinfoil. I check, and inside is a steak, some fries, and broccoli.
That does it. I’m the worst person in the world. Maddox tried to do something nice, and I completely ruined it.
Maddox doesn’t reply, and for a minute I wallow in a rollercoaster of self-loathing and elation. Maddox thought of me! He made my favorite meal! And I ruined that small gesture of trust. To drown my sorrows, I pull out the plate of food, nuke it in the microwave, and try it.
It’s really freaking good.
And then as I eat, I break out of it because I can totally win that trust back. Totally! It doesn’t take me long to think of the best way. He made me my favorite meal, so I’ll make his favorite for him!
I pull some chicken out of the freezer and stare at it for a while. As I stare, I feel a set of eyes on me. I turn and see Princess has sat himself down and is also watching the chicken.
“Any tips?” Thing is, I don’t really cook. No need to, really. There are plenty of people out there who are more talented than I am, whom I can just pay to make my food.
Briefly, I consider ordering food for Maddox, then I throw that idea out the window. He made me food, so I can make some for him.
So I try. I do my best to estimate what time he’ll get home based on his previous schedule. When I hear the hum of his car in the driveway, it makes me smile.
It takes Maddox a long time to come in. But that’s okay!
He’s probably just winding down. I’m sure taking care of people is a hard job.
Once it hits thirty minutes after he pulls in, I can’t stop fidgeting.
Is he okay? Glances out the window show he’s sitting in the seat, not slumped over or anything.
I hope he’s not avoiding me. If he gives me a chance, I can redeem myself!
Then, finally, his car door slams.
I jump upright, readjusting the plates of food on the table and grinning when he comes in. With an unimpressed tail flick, Princess ambles to the door.
Maddox comes in with a shuffle; there’s a thump and a thud, and then a muted curse that then turns to a giggle.
I don’t have time to process that Maddox is actually giggling until he’s right there in front of me, all big and tall and so freaking handsome he takes my breath away. Maddox looks at me, and his pretty green eyes light up.
“Micah!”
“Hey, Maddox,” I breathe.
He grins at me, and I grin back.
And that’s when I catch the whiff of alcohol.
“Whatchu doing?” Maddox peeks around me at the table, and I just stare at him for a beat.
Has he been drinking? I’m not sure how I feel about that.
On the one hand, I can feel the memories of Dad creeping in.
On the other hand, I like how the stress line between Maddox’s eyebrows has all but disappeared and his smiles are looser now.
“I uh, made you some dinner since I missed your breakfast earlier. Which was delicious by the way!” It was; my mouth waters remembering it.
Maddox puts a hand up like he’s trying to hide his face behind it.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” I say. “I had a late night. It was really nice of you.” Even I hear the pleading in my voice. I hate this version of him that feels like it has to hide from me.
“You made me chicken?” Maddox is looking at the plates of my rather unimpressive food–chicken breast and some carrots that I must have bought when I was feeling healthy.
“Uh, yeah! Since you said you liked it.”
Maddox looks at me, really looks at me. He’s not hiding behind his hand anymore, and I notice his pupils are blown. He takes a step closer. “You’re not mad? Why aren’t you mad?”
”Mad?”
He takes another step closer, and I feel his presence like a star sucking me into its gravity. It’s huge and compelling and overwhelming, and all I want to do is throw myself into his flames.
“Yeah, mad.” He’s close to me now, looking down at me like I’m some puzzle. I look up at him, my breathing feeling tight, and every nerve ending on fire. It’s hard to take a breath, like he’s sucked all the air into his gravity field as well.
”Well?” He leans in, those lips quirked up. Kissable lips. Biteable lips. I wonder what they’d feel like on mine. And he keeps looking at me, like he’s looking for an answer to something.
“How could I ever be mad at you?” I croak.
His breath brushes across my lips, and my breath stutters. Because I think Maddox McAllister wants to kiss me.