22. Chapter 22 #4
She didn’t have time to pull her hoodie back into place. Didn’t have time to smooth her hair or fix the fact that her thighs were still shaking.
Heath didn’t move either. He froze. One hand still on the counter beside her, his chest rising and falling like someone who had just sprinted through a war zone and landed in a crime scene.
And then Adam walked in.
Just… strolled in like this wasn’t the absolute worst moment in the entire goddamn universe.
He paused. Took in the sight in one glance.
Maddie. Flushed. Breathless. Hair wild.
Heath. Disheveled. Silent. Sweating.
The counter. Still warm from sin.
Adam blinked once. Then exhaled like he’d just taken a drag from a cigarette he quit ten years ago.
“Well,” he muttered, voice dry enough to kill crops. “That explains the fire safety violations.”
Maddie wanted to melt straight into the grout. Just ooze down into the cracks and never be seen again.
Heath straightened slightly, like that would help. It didn’t. His shirt was still half-untucked, and there was a suspicious red scratch running up his neck.
Adam gave it all exactly two more seconds before reaching for the fridge, pulling out a beer, popping the cap with a clink, and saying to no one: “I came in because your niece lit a marshmallow on actual fire. But don’t worry. This is so much worse.”
Maddie choked on her own breath.
Adam took a long swig. Then nodded at them like he was confirming a military operation. “You two good? Need a hose? A priest? Some bleach?”
Heath scrubbed a hand over his face.
Maddie finally found her voice. “Can we pretend this didn’t happen?”
Adam opened the sliding door halfway, turned back with a smirk.n“Sweetheart, I’m planning to pretend I never saw this house again.”
And then he was gone.
Door closed. Silence returned. They didn’t speak for a full sixty seconds after Adam left.
Maddie was still leaning against the cabinets like her spine had gone offline. The only thing holding her upright was shame, fear, and the lingering imprint of Heath’s body between her thighs.
Heath hadn’t moved either. His arms were crossed now. Defensive posture. Silent panic. Man trying not to feel things.
She finally broke the silence. “He’s going to tell everyone.”
“No, he’s not,” Heath said, too fast.
Maddie squinted. “You think your brother’s going to walk into a backyard full of Carringtons and not say something?”
He hesitated.
They both knew the answer.
“Shit,” she muttered.
Heath ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’re going to what? Intimidate the whole family into not noticing I’m glowing like I just had sex on the equator?”
His mouth twitched, and she glared at him. “Don’t smile. You don’t get to smile.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“You’re being smug.”
“Maybe.” He stepped toward her, quieter now. “Maybe I’m smug because I’ve been dying to touch you all night.”
Her stomach flipped.
Goddamn him.
Before she could respond with something equally devastating or deeply unwise, there was a soft knock on the glass door.
Tap tap.
Natalie.
Of course it was Natalie.
Heath backed away fast—like actual feet of space were going to help.
Maddie turned, smoothed her hair, adjusted her dress. Failed at both.
She opened the door.
Natalie didn’t say a word.
She just handed Maddie a s’more on a paper plate and looked at her.
That look.
The older sister knows everything look. The don’t lie to me because I can smell sin from three feet away look.
Maddie blinked. “Hi.”
Natalie blinked back. “Your cheeks are red.”
“I was near the fire.”
“Your shorts are inside out.”
Maddie looked down. Shit. They were.
Natalie tilted her head. “So… the kitchen counter?”
Maddie made a noise that may have been part laugh, part groan, part prayer.
Behind her, Heath dropped his phone in the sink and then stood perfectly still, like maybe if he didn’t move, he could avoid being perceived.
Natalie just nodded. “Okay. Well. I brought you dessert. And shame. Enjoy both.”
She turned and left like she hadn’t just detonated Maddie’s entire soul with her calm auntie energy.
Maddie closed the door slowly. Faced Heath. “I’m going to die.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m going to fake my own death and start a new life in Montana.”
Heath didn’t respond, because Bella was now pressed against the glass, staring at them both with wide eyes and a flaming marshmallow in her hand.
Maddie froze.
The kid held up the marshmallow like an offering to a dark god. Then she mouthed: “Are you getting married?”
Heath turned away so fast it looked like a tactical retreat.
Maddie whispered, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’m walking into the ocean.”
Tap tap tap. Jake joined his sister at the door, making a heart shape with his hands.
She was never recovering from this.
Outside: the sun was starting to set.
Inside: Maddie had absolutely no pulse left in her body.
Maddie lasted five more minutes inside before she gave up.
She couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever, and Heath had gone full military muttering mode, pacing like he was mentally filing a damage control report.
So she stepped out into the backyard again, now bathed in the amber glow of sunset and string lights. The fire crackled in the pit, the smell of burning sugar and hot dogs hung in the air, and the Carringtons were still horrifyingly cheerful.
Natalie was seated like a queen with a glass of wine, Mike was roasting two marshmallows at once like it was a precision sport, and the teenagers were sulking in matching hoodies and tragic expressions.
Bella saw Maddie first.
“AUNT MADDIE’S BACK!” she shrieked, because subtlety is for cowards.
Maddie flinched. “Hi, sweetie.”
Jake added, “Bella said you are gonna marry Uncle Heath?” just to make sure the knife went in all the way.
“I should probably get divorced first,” Maddie said.
Natalie snorted wine through her nose. Heath groaned into his beer.
Jake turned to Natalie. “Mommy, what’s divorce?”
Then Adam stood, dusted off his jeans, and held out a drink.
“Maddie,” he said, too polite. “You look like someone who needs a refill.”
She took the cup warily. “What is it?”
“Does it matter?”
“…Yes?”
He smirked. “Vodka and orange something. Maybe juice. Possibly melted popsicle. Cheers.”
Heath stepped forward. “Adam—”
“I’m being hospitable.”
“You’re trying to get her drunker.”
“I’m trying to get you to unclench.”
Heath’s eye twitched like he was mentally building a sniper nest in the hedges.
Maddie took a sip just to keep the peace. It was surprisingly good. Or she was already tipsy enough not to care.
Adam flopped back into his chair with a satisfied grunt. His wife, who Maddie had only met briefly earlier (adorable, slightly chaotic, dark braid, kind of looked like she ran a small yoga studio and a side hustle selling crystals), gave him a look over her wine glass.
“You’re stirring the pot,” she said.
“I am the pot,” he replied, smug.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a menace.”
Adam grinned. “You married me.”
“I was sleep-deprived and you had a good jawline.”
“Still do.”
“I should’ve married Mike.”
Mike blinked, mid-marshmallow. “Wait, what?”
“I mean, he would’ve made me a Pinterest husband. Built me a chicken coop. Learned sourdough.”
Mike looked like he was about to cry. “I would’ve done that for you.”
Natalie gently patted his arm. “You’re already taken. Calm down, farm boy.”
Adam’s wife—Maddie was starting to remember her name was Lila—turned back to Adam.
“You haven’t even looked at the Pinterest I sent you.”
“I don’t need to look at a board to know I hate shiplap.”
“You are emotionally barren,” she said sweetly.
“And you like it.”
They kissed like people who bicker as foreplay, and Maddie blinked, unsure if she was charmed or traumatized.
Adam pulled away and raised his cup toward Maddie again. “Drink up. It helps.”
“Helps what?” she asked.
“Everything,” he said.
Maddie took another sip. Maybe two.
Heath appeared behind her a moment later, voice low. “You don’t have to engage with him.”
“He’s fun,” she said, which was only partially a lie.
“He’s chaos.”
“He’s married chaos. With decent alcohol.”
Heath growled something in the back of his throat that sounded like territorial regret.
Then, slowly, carefully, he started the evacuation process.
“Alright,” he said, too loudly. “It’s late. Kids should probably be getting to bed.”
Natalie raised an eyebrow. “It’s 8:40.”
“Still,” Heath said. “Early mornings. Traffic. Weather. Earthquakes.”
Adam leaned back, folding his arms. “You trying to clear us out, brother?”
Heath met his eyes. “Desperately.”
“Too bad.”
Maddie laughed softly, high on adrenaline and citrus-flavored vodka.
Lila leaned toward her. “You okay?”
Maddie nodded. “Honestly? Weirdly, yes.”
“Good,” Lila said. “Just… don’t sit on the kitchen counter. Adam’s never going to recover.”
Adam, without looking up, said, “I already had to Lysol my memories. You’re both on probation.”
Heath muttered, “I should’ve been an only child.”
“Then who would’ve helped you emotionally repress things?” Adam asked.
Natalie clapped her hands once. “Okay! Wrapping this up. Mike, get the kids. Lila, find your shoes. Jake, stop poking the fire with a fork.”
Maddie stayed seated, cup in hand, cheeks hot, heart strangely full. Heath helped his sister and Mike wrangle up the brood, getting them to the front of his house. Voices drifted in and out, but the quiet had finally started to settle.
Maddie stayed by the fire, listening to car doors shut.
The Carringtons were weird, yes. Loud. Unfiltered.
Full of opinions. But somehow, sitting in that circle, with Heath glancing at her like he still hadn’t processed the fact that she was here, that they’d done that, that she wasn’t running away…
She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Wanted.
Not claimed.
Not controlled.
Just… wanted.
And maybe a little buzzed.
But mostly that.
Adam was still seated across from her, legs stretched out, beer dangling from one hand like it was a prop, not a drink. Lila was next to him, tucked into a chair with a cozy knit cardigan and a glass of wine she’d barely touched.