15. Maddie
Maddie
I don’t remember agreeing to any of it. Not out loud. But somewhere between me asking why he was staying home and the way he looked at me when he answered, something in me stopped pushing.
“Because this is where you’re going to be today,” he said, steady, like it wasn’t something up for discussion. “And I’m not leaving you.”
There wasn’t anything to argue with in that. Not the way he said it. Not the way he looked at me when he did. So I didn’t.
Now I’m sitting on his couch, tucked into the corner with a blanket pulled over my legs, a British cooking show playing on the TV that I haven’t actually watched for more than a few seconds at a time.
It fills the space, keeps the quiet from pressing in too hard, but my mind keeps slipping away from it anyway. Back to him.
He’s sitting beside me, his laptop open, focused on something hockey-related that I know matters to him, but every so often I feel it—the shift in his attention, the way he checks in without making it obvious.
Like he always knows exactly where I am.
It should make me uneasy. It doesn’t. That’s what I don’t understand.
I pull the blanket a little tighter around myself, trying to focus on the TV again, but it doesn’t work.
My thoughts keep drifting back to the kitchen, to the way he said we were fixing it like it wasn’t something I could brush off or avoid.
To the way he held my face. Careful. Like he saw everything and chose not to make me carry it alone.
I shift slightly, my shoulder brushing the couch as I settle deeper into the corner, and my eyes flick toward him before I can stop them.
He hasn’t moved much. Still watching film.
Still focused. But I can feel him anyway.
Present. Steady. Then his eyes lock on mine.
I look away first. Because it’s easier than sitting in whatever this is, easier than trying to understand why being here with him doesn’t feel like something I need to escape from.
I should question it. I should feel something sharper than this.
But I don’t. I stay where I am, letting the noise from the TV fill the room while something quieter settles in my chest.
A subtle vibration catches me off guard. It’s quiet, almost easy to miss under the noise of the TV, but my body reacts to it anyway, my hand already reaching for my phone before I fully think about it.
Luka
Sorry Mads.
My brows pull together as I stare at it, the words sitting there without context, without explanation, like I’m supposed to understand. My mind starts trying to piece it together, to figure out what he’s apologizing for—
Dean’s phone rings.
The sound cuts straight through whatever I was about to think, sharp enough that I look up immediately. He doesn’t hesitate. He answers it on the second ring, his posture shifting in a way I recognize now, something tightening in him without him needing to say a word.
He listens for a second and then “No.” The word lands hard, final, and whatever is on the other end of that call—it’s not small. “Absolutely not.” I don’t hear the other voice. But I don’t need to.
“Are you fucking serious?” His jaw tightens, his hand dragging once through his hair like he’s already losing patience with whatever’s being said.
There’s a pause. Then—“Fine. But if she so much as sheds a tear, it’s over.”
My stomach drops. The call ends just as quickly as it started, and before I can ask anything, he’s already turning toward me, shifting on the couch until he’s fully facing me.
His hands land on my legs, over the blanket, firm enough that I feel it immediately, the heat of his palms sinking through the fabric like it’s nothing.
“Luka and Addy are downstairs.”
Everything in me tightens. It’s immediate. Automatic. My shoulders pulling in just slightly, my breath catching in a way I don’t quite manage to hide. He sees it. Of course he does.
“If you don’t want to see them, I’ll send them away.
” His voice isn’t pushing. It’s steady. Controlled.
Giving me the out without making me feel like I have to take it.
“But Addy knows something’s wrong.” Of course she does.
She always does. There’s a pause, and then he leans in slightly, his hand lifting, his fingers brushing just barely along my cheek where the bruise sits.
It’s so light I almost don’t feel it. “Are you in pain?” The question is quiet. Different than before.
I shake my head slightly. “No.” It’s not entirely true. But it’s close enough. A knock sounds at the door. Not soft. Not patient.
“Dean!” Addy’s voice follows it, loud enough that it carries straight through the space, familiar in a way that pulls at something deep in my chest. “I swear to God, if you don’t open this door—”
Despite everything, something in me almost smiles. Almost. He looks back at me.
“Want me to let them in?” I don’t. Every instinct in me says no. To stay here, stay quiet, stay in this space where I don’t have to explain anything or let anyone see more than I’m ready to give. But it’s Addy. And she already knows.
My head moves before I fully settle into the decision, a small, slow nod that feels heavier than it should. "Yeah."
He watches me for half a second longer, like he’s making sure I mean it, like he’s checking that I’m not forcing myself into something I don’t want. “You say the word, Baby,” he says quietly, his voice dropping just enough that it feels like it’s meant only for me, “and I’ll kick them out. Okay?”
I nod again. He doesn’t wait for anything else. He’s already moving, pushing off the couch and heading for the door as Addy’s voice rises again, louder this time, impatient and familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten for an entirely different reason.
And just like that—the quiet is gone. And everything I’ve been avoiding is about to walk straight through that door. The door barely has time to open before Addy is through it. She doesn’t pause. Doesn’t take in the room. Doesn’t look at Dean or Luka or anything else standing between us.
She comes straight to me. “Mads—” And then she’s there, her arms wrapping around me tight enough that it pulls the breath from my chest for a second, her hands moving immediately like she needs to see everything at once, like she can’t settle until she knows exactly what she’s looking at.
“What happened? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” Her voice is softer than it usually is, but there’s still that fire under it, that edge that never really leaves her, even when she’s trying to be gentle.
Her hands frame my face, her thumbs brushing carefully along my cheek, her eyes scanning, taking in more than I want her to see and not looking away from any of it.
“I’m okay,” I say quietly, even though it feels too small compared to the way she’s looking at me, like it doesn’t cover everything she’s already figured out without me saying a word.
She doesn’t believe me. I can tell in the way her jaw tightens just slightly, in the way her eyes soften and sharpen at the same time, like she’s holding back and ready to burn something down all at once.
“You don’t look okay,” she murmurs, her voice dropping lower, closer to me, like she’s trying to keep this between us even though the room is still full.
“I am,” I insist, softer now, not because I need to convince her, but because I need her to stop looking at me like that.
Like I’m something fragile. Like I’m something that needs to be handled carefully. Her hands linger for another second before she lets them fall, but she doesn’t step away completely. She stays close, her body angled toward mine like she’s not done, like she’s not going to be done until she’s sure.
Then she turns toward Luka. And the shift in her is instant. “What are you doing about him?” The softness is gone. Sharper. Colder. The kind of question that isn’t really a question.
Luka doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t need to. It’s in the way he stands, in the way something darker settles into his expression without him trying to hide it, something that belongs to a part of him most people don’t see. A part I don’t want touching this.
“Addy—” He starts.
She cuts him off without looking at him. “No,” she says, firm, already shaking her head. “Don’t ‘Addy’ me right now. What are you doing about Tyler?”
Something tightens in my chest. Not fear. Not exactly. Just… the weight of it. Because I know what she’s asking. And I know what that could mean.
“We’re not doing anything,” I say, stepping in before Luka can answer, my voice steadier than I expect it to be. “He’s leaving for Denver. He’ll be gone. That’s it.”
Addy’s head snaps back toward me. “That’s not ‘it,’ Maddie.”
“It is,” I push, holding her gaze, not letting her pull me into something I don’t want. “I don’t want anything else. I don’t want—” I hesitate for half a second, the words sitting heavier than I want them to. “I don’t want that on me.”
She knows what I mean. I see it in the way her expression shifts, in the way something in her pulls back just slightly, not agreeing, but understanding. It doesn’t mean she likes it.
“Fine,” she says after a beat, but there’s tension still sitting under it. “Then where are you staying until he leaves?”
I hesitate because I don’t have an answer that feels solid.
“Not at your place,” she adds immediately, not giving me the chance to pretend that’s even an option. “You can’t stay there. You’re coming home with me and Luka.”
My chest tightens again. Because part of me wants to. Part of me leans toward it instinctively. But before I can say anything—
“No.” Dean’s voice cuts in. It’s not loud. It doesn’t need to be. “She’s staying here.”
The words settle into the room like something already decided, like this is a conversation that already happened and I’m the only one who missed it.
My shoulders square before I even realize I’m doing it.
Because I’m not doing this again. I’m not standing here while someone else decides what I’m doing, where I’m going, what’s best for me without asking.
“Thank you for last night,” I say, my voice steady even though something inside me is starting to push back harder than it has all morning. “But Addy’s right. I should stay with them.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. I move.
Across the room. Toward my shoes. Because if I stand there any longer, I’m going to get pulled into something I don’t have control over, something that feels too close to decisions being made for me instead of with me.
I bend down, slipping my foot into my shoe, focusing on something simple, something I can finish without anyone stepping in.
“Maddie.” His voice stops me for a second before I finish pulling my shoes on.
Not loud. But sharper than anything he’s said to me before.
I don’t look up right away. I finish tying my shoe first, my fingers moving slower than they should, like I’m giving myself a second before I have to face whatever is in his expression now.
“You’re staying here with me.” The words land heavier this time.
Not softer. Not negotiable. “You’re safe here,” he continues, his voice lower now, but no less firm.
“And I’m not letting you walk out of here into something that isn’t. ”
My hands still for a second. Just a second. Before I finish tying the other shoe. Because I hear him. I understand what he’s saying. But that doesn’t change what this is. I push myself up slowly, finally lifting my gaze to meet his.
“We can’t.” The words sit between us, heavier than they should be.
“Because I work for you.” I don’t look away.
I don’t soften it. “I’m the staff. You’re the coach.
” The words echo back to him, exactly the way he gave them to me the first time I stood in this space and put something on the line that he didn’t hesitate to shut down.
Something flickers across his face. I don’t stay long enough to look into it.
I turn to Addy instead, my eyes finding hers, something unspoken sitting there that I don’t have the energy to say out loud.
Please.
She doesn’t hesitate. Her hand closes around mine immediately, firm, grounding, and she doesn’t ask again. Doesn’t question it. She just pulls me with her. Out the door. Before anyone else can stop me.