Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
EVIE
Putting my car in park and I groan, relieved that the day is finally over. My feet are throbbing after working a double today. The new waitress never showed; Joe had already promised the boys a trip to the bakery and a sleepover. So, I stayed and worked because who was I to get in the way of double chocolate chip cookies and chocolate cupcakes? I slowly trudge up to my house and pull my keys out.
"Finally."
Without thinking, I pull the taser out of my purse, turn, and fire, pumping whoever it is full of 50,000 volts of sit the hell down, as Vic calls it.
I hear a disgruntled ‘fuck’ as the person hits the porch like a sack of potatoes. I silently thank Vic for the gift and quickly flip the light switch on, bright golden light floods the porch.
Shaking, I take in the vast pile groaning on my porch. I will my feet to move closer and push the fear from my mind. Reaching for the arm of the black jacket, I notice the logo on the back of it in colossal writing, The Boxing Den .
Oh, fuck me.
Just then, the pile rolls over, and I shriek. Clutching a hand to my heart, jade eyes find mine, and I confirm the person I just tased the hell out of was Maddox Wilder.
"Shit, woman," he groans. I notice the gash across his nose, and his glasses are cracked on the right lens. Blood seeps down his face making me feel nauseous.
"What the hell are you doing?" I yell at him as he rolls to the fetal position before pushing himself up on his knees.
"Making sure I don’t piss my pants."
"No, why are you sitting here in the dark like a creep!" I shriek at him.
"Well, it seems I didn't piss myself. Thank God." He takes a few deep breaths. "Can you put the claws away for a second hellcat? You just pumped me with enough electricity to run half the God damn street.” He wipes at the blood seeping from the gash and smears it across his face.
Look at this fucking mess! As he tries to wipe it again, I grab his hand and stop him. Clean this shit up, Posey!
"Come in so I can clean that." I don't offer him help up; I stand and go into my house to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. I find it shoved under the dirty laundry hamper. I grab it and a clean bath rag and wet it.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I expect to see the pale, frightened woman I've always been, but staring back at me is a woman more pissed off than scared—a woman with more backbone. A woman ready to throttle the man in her living room for scaring her half to death. The thought resonates deep within me because if I am ready to throttle a man twice my size, then perhaps I really can keep my boys safe.
I wring the rag out and head into the living room, where I find Maddox observing pictures of the boys at various stages of life that adorn one side of the living room. The look of longing that reflects on his face as he looks at the pictures of my babies wipes all traces of anger away. Well, almost all traces of anger away. Maddox runs a finger along the sight of the boys and me asleep on Joe's couch after Christmas a few years back.
Christmas at Joe's was my favorite day of the year. Surrounded by my favorite people in pajamas, singing Bing Crosby, and eating more than we all should. I couldn't help but feel anything but love. Some of my deepest scars were soothed by their love. A love that reaches down deeper than any scars every could.
That year the boys and I wore matching pajamas with Vic, and we passed out after eating a pan of Sophie's cinnamon rolls and exchanging presents. Bash had wrapped himself around my leg, and Charlie snuggled close with a small hand tangled in my hair. We were sleeping so peacefully in our own little bubble. It was my favorite picture. I clear my throat before nodding Maddox toward the couch. "Sit."
If you look at this man's build, you might think there are temples dedicated to him. All hard lines and taut muscles, making my couch look like a futon. As I remove his glasses, I brush my hand through his thick hair to push it out of his face. His eyes widen with surprise, but he stays still. I find the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. "This will sting a bit."
I dab at the gash and gently blow at the sting of the alcohol. Chewing my bottom lip, I try to determine if he's going to need stitches or not.
"Evie."
"Maddox," I say in a clipped tone.
"You fucking tased me," Maddox says, half amused.
"You scared me half to death!"
"No shit! My balls are still tingling, and my teeth feel like they are doing an Irish jig in my skull."
"I'm not apologizing." I tell him defiantly.
"Didn't want one." He stares at me intently in that way of his that unnerves me. "I'm sorry I frightened you tonight," he says softly. "Damn proud of you for defending yourself though. "
"Thanks?" I smear antibiotic ointment across the gash deciding he won't need stitches.
"I was an asshole the other day.”
Well, there it was. Can always count on Maddox to get right to the point. I still my hands, and he swallows nervously, leaning forward slightly. Focusing on the scar on his lips, I'm unable to meet his eye.
"Evie, look at me, please." The gentle way he whispers it sends a chill down my spine. A man has never spoken to me so tenderly. I swallow and bring my eyes to meet his. Those full lips that had me all worked up the other day are now turned down in a slightly sad smile.
"Seeing you like that the other day, begging me not to hit you with a damn belt"—he pauses, his eyes full of emotion—"Knowing I was the reason for it, makes me fucking sick." Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to mine. "I am so sorry, Pretty Girl, so fucking sorry."
Not a single person in my life has ever been so apologetic or sincere. I sit down next to him needing a second to gather myself. "Maddox, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of that was your fault."
Maddox tilts his head, looking down at me. "It wasn't yours either."
I didn't miss the weighted way he said that. I rest my head against his shoulder and decide not to argue with him and instead be present in this moment with him. I swore I’d never let myself be vulnerable with another man again, yet Maddox Wilder is revealing himself to be so much more than just a man.
We’re both comforted by the silence that settles around us. With Maddox, I never feel the need to fill the silence. He’s genuine in what he says, good or bad, and that’s what I appreciate most about him. His words always speak volumes because I know how rarely he shares them; it’s a comfort to me that I don’t need to fill the silence with idle chatter. Maybe that's why I always find myself wanting to talk to him the more I am around him. I begin tracing the back of his strong hands, taking note of the thin white scars that cover his knuckles.
"It was the clinking," I whisper.
"Clinking?" His brows furrow in confusion.
My fingers tremble but I don't stop tracing over the scars littered across the back of his hands. "Yeah, it sounded like someone undoing a belt."
Maddox becomes rigid as he understands my meaning. "My office keys were in my pocket." Maddox intertwines our fingers on his lap. "I wish you could see yourself as everyone around you does."
I try to pull my hand away, but he only holds it firmer. "Trust me, I see myself. Every day I see me."
Determination crosses his handsome face. "No, you see what he made you believe you were. He tried to make you weak and broken. But let me tell you Evie Taylor, you are the furthest thing from weak or broken. You are like walking sunshine, so strong and vibrant the rest of us poor bastards hope for a second of your time just to bask in your warmth." This is the second person to refer to me as sunshine. I pull away and this time he lets go. I stand and will my feet to move but they won't.
I can feel the energy in the room become more charged, and the steady strumming of my heart is trying to prepare me for the inferno that sits before me. It keeps gently pushing me towards him. The man who never has more than a few words to say reads me like his favorite book. He unnerves me and makes me feel the one thing I know causes more devastation than anything: hope.
Hope he may be right. I want to hope that I’m not the broken thing Trent made me and that my light was never snuffed out, only dimmed to a flicker. My heart knows he's right, but my head can't let go of all the devastation. It's a bitch to be at war with yourself.
"I don't shine, Maddox." I laugh bitterly.
The smirk he gives me makes him look more like Mercy than ever before, playful and young. "You’re right. You burn, baby, and you burn so damn brightly even you can't hide it no matter how hard you try."
I have no words for that. I pick up a couple of butterfly band aids, pull away from his touch, and close the gash as silence envelops us once again.
"I was driving that night, Evie," he says so quietly I almost miss it.
I say nothing. I know this is Maddox giving me a piece of him, something he doesn’t give to anyone, not even his family. He refuses to talk about his daughter and her death.
Maddox clears his throat. "Since the wreck, all I've felt is this hole inside me growing bigger. I keep losing pieces of myself to it. Hell, for a long time, I broke off pieces of myself and threw them in, avoiding dealing with my grief. The anger I felt keeps me going, so I never forget. I buried myself in building The Boxing Den to stay busy thinking I could avoid it all, my family included." He points to his heart. "That hole stopped growin' and all that rage died down when you told me it scared you."
"Maddox—" I want to tell him I didn’t mean it, and I understand he was just a man riddled with a painful infestation of grief he couldn’t deal with.
"I want to help you be strong enough to take on the world and yourself, Evie. Freeing you from all the things that haunt you." My heart pounds at his raspy confession, and I sense one of the walls I’ve carefully constructed around my heart starting to crumble. This time, I don’t feel the urge to rebuild it.
Here he is—a man who has lost it all, seething with anger at the world, yet still eager to lend me a hand. But who would help free him?
Stepping closer, I position myself between his legs. He doesn't move. Maddox freely lets me lead and be in control. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I breathe in his earthy scent as Maddox silently tracks my every move. Slowly reaching out, I traced the scar across his lips. Maddox closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I grasp his face in my hands and lean forward. Goosebumps cover his arms, and my heart hammers in my chest. I breathe a thank you across his lips before softly kissing his cheek.
The following day, I woke up to a small rectangular box wrapped in a purple bow on my front steps. I take it in and unwrap it to find pepper spray inside with a note written in a neat script that says,
"Use this instead of the taser. It keeps their dick in the dirt longer. -M"
Lou came over after breakfast with the good sheriff and tried her best to be irritated about it, but I could see how much she secretly enjoyed it. Her eyes were softer, and she seemed lighter than usual. She'd never tell a soul how much she enjoyed having breakfast with Henry.
"What happened between you two? Why do you dislike him so much?" I ask her over the pile of laundry between us.
Lou stops folding the towel in her hand. "I like the man just fine."
"No. You can't even tolerate Henry," I challenge her.
"We've talked about this before, Evie." She sighs.
“Lou, whenever I try to talk with you about it, you deflect or change the subject."
She slams the towel in the stack at our feet. "Why do you wait to wash all the towels one day a week? There's at least fucking fifty here."
"Lou."
"I'm serious, E. There's no way the three of you dirty up this many towels in one week. There are three of you, not fucking thirty people living here!" She haphazardly folds another towel and throws it in the stack knocking the stack of towels over.
"Louisiana Rose."
"What!"
“Talk to me. We’re best friends and something about Henry is eating you alive. Don't hold back on me. Let me be here for you just as you have been for me."
She shakes her head. "I'm the one that helps carry the heavy shit."
"We both do, heifer."
We stare each other down until she realizes I'm not letting up this time. A silent battle of wills before she whispers a quiet "shit." She folds the rest of the towels in the basket before crossing her legs and turning towards me on the couch.
"I had the biggest crush on Henry growing up. He was older than me and handsome. You know that small-town crush every girl has, and she thinks she will marry and have five kids with." I had no idea, but I didn't tell her that.
"I didn't think he knew I existed. Then Mama ran off, and I was far too caught up in my anger to realize he'd noticed me, or maybe he just felt sorry for me. One day I was walking home from school and saw him walking behind me. He didn't speak a word to me, but every day after that, he walked with me."
I get us a beer when I see her twisting her fingers in her lap. I tap her knee and smile at her when she says thank you.
"Anyway, one day, I was angry. Angry that my mama left, mad that I had to help raise Soph and couldn't be an ordinary teenage girl going and doing whatever normal girls did. I turned and screamed at him to stop following me. He just looked at me and said, "No."
She starts laughing, and I join her. "That whole time, not a word, and then just ‘no’?"
"Yep. After that, Henry walked me to the door every day, and if Daddy had to work late, he sat in the yard with his brothers, watching the house. He'd walk me to classes at school, and we slowly became friends.” The way she says friends makes my heart ache. She clear’s her throat before continuing, “Anyways one day I didn't take my usual way and ended up at the cemetery, just needing a moment to be a fucking angry fifteen year old kid. I sat at some random grave crying when I heard someone yelling. I looked up and saw Henry stomping my way, yelling my name. Being the vibrant flower I am, I yelled at him to shut up because the dead were resting. He ignored me, not giving a damn that I needed some time alone, sat beside me, and pulled me in his lap while I lost it."
Misty-eyed, she takes a long pull on her beer, and I hold her hand.
"We became inseparable after that. The night after he graduated, I lost my virginity to him. Then he went off to the police academy. We talked on occasion, but I was trying to keep us afloat back home. I turned eighteen and had three months until graduation when I walked in to find Daddy in his recliner."
"Oh, Lou."
"I thought he was asleep, Evie. I called for him to wake up and started making dinner when I realized something wasn't right. The coroner said a massive heart attack, but I think his broken heart just had enough."
I can’t imagine losing the two people who I love the most. My parents have never wanted me, and I know I don’t have the love for my mother that Lou felt for both of her parents. Lou furiously wipes the tears from her face.
"Good old Henry came back for Daddy's funeral, of course. Fucked me in my bathroom and afterward told me he couldn't believe he fucked up like this and left. The rest is history."
I get the nagging feeling it wasn't history and know if I were in this situation, she would have no problem calling me on my shit. So, like any good friend, I call her on hers.
"History, my ass. "
"Evie, I can't talk about the rest right now."
I think about the one person she'd sacrifice everything for, and I know deep in my bones it has something to do with Sophie. I didn't know Henry as a kid, but I know him as a man now, and the man I know would rather cut his own arm off than intentionally hurt Lou. I don't tell her any of that. I shut up and cuddle my friend, providing the one thing she's been for me since knowing her: a soft place to land.