35. Maddie
Maddie
Leaving Dean in the hallway when we first get to the arena takes more effort than it should.
He keeps finding reasons to slow me down.
Questions I know he doesn’t need answers to. Comments meant for no purpose other than stretching out the seconds before I walk away from him. By the third one, I stop, plant my hand on my hip, and give him a look that makes him sigh like I’m the unreasonable one.
“Coach,” I warn.
His mouth twitches. Mine almost does too. Almost.
God, I love this man.
Even when he’s being impossible.
I squeeze his hand once where no one can see and force myself to step away before I let him drag me into one more kiss in some dark corner of the arena.
Work first. Feelings later.
The next twenty minutes pass the way they always do on game day.
I snag footage of Luka swaggering in with headphones on and that cocky grin that fans lose their minds over.
Jake carries Matty in through the side employee entrance before handing him back to Penelope with a kiss to both their heads.
Grady pretends to hate when I shove the camera in his face but still gives me a smirk because he knows exactly what clips perform well.
Routine. Easy. Normal.
By the time I get back to my office, my nerves have settled enough that I almost feel stupid for how hard Dean was spiraling this morning. Everything is fine.
I set my camera bag on the floor, wake my computer, and start transferring clips while mentally sorting what I need next.
Pregame locker room shot. Jake clip. Family row. Easy.
I’m halfway through labeling files when it happens.
The air changes. I don’t know how else to explain it. One second I’m staring at my screen. The next every tiny hair on my arms lifts. My body goes cold before my brain catches up.
I glance up. Tyler is standing in my doorway.
And before I can even fully process that he is here—inside my office—he turns and pushes the door shut behind him.
The soft click sounds like a gunshot.
My heart slams once. Hard. But I force my face to stay neutral. Force my voice to stay calm.
“What are you doing here?”
Tyler laughs like this is amusing, like he didn’t just walk into my private office in the middle of my workplace like a psychopath.
“Coming to say hi to my girlfriend,” he says easily, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “I’m playing in her arena tonight. Figured I deserved at least that.”
Girlfriend. My stomach twists. He says it like the last few weeks didn’t happen. Like me leaving. Like the bruises. Like the boxes. Like none of it exists.
“Since you weren’t able to follow me to Denver yet because of your job.” He smiles when he says it. Actually smiles.
And all I can think is—he is fucking crazy.
I push my chair back slowly and stand, needing my full height, needing something between us even if it’s just my desk.
“Tyler, you need to leave.”
His brows rise like I’ve said something silly. “Maddie, don’t do this.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He takes one slow step farther into the room. “You embarrassed me.”
My pulse kicks harder. I keep my voice level. “Go get ready for your game.”
Another step. He tilts his head.
“That’s what this is, huh? Need me to go get ready because you think the Mustangs are going to beat us?”
I blink. What? He laughs again, but there’s nothing funny in it now.
“You always pick them over me.” His voice gets louder. Accusing. Sharp. “You always pick this place over me. These people over me. That fucking coach over me.”
Ice shoots through my veins. He knows. Or suspects. Either one is bad.
“Tyler,” I snap, all civility gone now. “Leave.”
Instead of listening, he comes closer. I step around the desk. Away from him. My breathing turns too shallow. He keeps coming.
I lift my chin, forcing steel into my voice.
“Get. Out.”
His jaw twitches. His face changes. The polished hockey-player smile disappears and that familiar wildness slides in behind his eyes.
The one I know too well. The one that says I pushed too hard.
My phone starts ringing on the desk. The sound nearly makes me jump.
Tyler’s eyes flick toward it. I move faster. I snatch it up right as he reaches.
Luka.
Thank God.
I answer without taking my eyes off Tyler.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Mads. Where are you at? I’m here with Coach.”
Coach. Dean.
My heart slams against my ribs. Tyler’s expression darkens immediately. I can feel him listening. Watching.
Every instinct in me screams. I force my voice flat. Emotionless.
“I’m in my office.” Tyler takes another step. He is too close my brain screams at me.
“Coach…” I say, making sure the word is clear enough that Dean hears me. Please hear me. Please listen. “Did Jake get the Red Hots I put in his locker? I know they are lucky.”
Tyler’s face twists. “What the fuck are you—”
He lunges. His hand snatches the phone from mine and before I can react he hurls it across the room. It slams into the wall and shatters. I gasp and stumble back.
Tyler advances. One step. Two.
I keep retreating, my pulse pounding so hard I can hear it.
I don’t realize where I am until my shoulders hit drywall.
Corner. I trapped myself in the corner.
Tyler's smile tips up on one side and I realize…there is nowhere left to go.
I keep my chin up.
It is the only thing I can think to control.
My heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest, my palms are damp, every muscle in my body is screaming at me to curl inward and protect myself—but I refuse.
I will not let Tyler see me break. I will not give him that.
He leans in closer, that twisted half smile still on his face, like he likes this. Likes having me boxed in. Likes seeing how little room I have left.
I can smell his cologne. Can hear his breathing. Can feel the wall digging into my shoulder blades.
And then—the door explodes open.
Not swings. Not opens. Explodes.
The lock gives with a violent crack, the wood slamming hard enough into the wall that Tyler jerks sideways.
Dean is standing in the doorway. Chest heaving. Eyes wild. I have never seen him look like that.
Not angry. Not exactly. This is something bigger. Something feral. Something that has every single protective instinct in his body clawing to the surface at once.
Tyler shifts away from me automatically, turning toward the intrusion.
It gives Dean exactly enough room. He is across the office in two strides.
Straight to me. Not to Tyler. To me.
His body plants in front of mine, pinning me back into the corner with his chest, his shoulders broad enough that Tyler disappears completely from my sightline. All I can see is Dean. All I can smell is Dean. Soap and cologne and sweat and safety.
His arm comes back instinctively, bracing against the wall beside my head like he is physically building himself into a shield.
And just like that—I can breathe again.
“Take him to their locker room.” Dean’s voice is a growl. Low. Deadly.
I can’t see Luka, but I know that’s who he’s talking to.
“Coach—” Tyler starts.
Dean doesn’t move. Doesn’t even glance back.
“Make sure he gets there in one piece,” he says, each word clipped and vicious. “I need my goalie tonight.”
There’s movement behind him. A scuffle. Luka muttering something that sounds a lot like you are so fucked.
Then Tyler’s protesting voice gets farther away. And farther.
Until all I hear is Dean. His chest rising and falling against me. Hard. Fast.
His heart hammering so violently I can feel it through his shirt.
I stare at the center of his chest because I can’t seem to lift my eyes yet.
Can’t seem to do anything except stand here and let the realization wash over me.
He came.
The second I called for him—even without saying the words—he came.
There had not been one tiny part of me that doubted it either.
Not one.
Even when Tyler grabbed my phone. Even when I hit this wall. Somewhere under the panic there had been one solid truth holding me up.
Dean will come. Dean will find me. Dean will get to me.
And now he is here, wrapped around me like a human barricade, his body taking up every inch of space between me and the thing that scared me.
I know, with a certainty that sinks straight into my bones, that I will always be safe with this man.
Always.
Dean doesn’t speak until the hallway goes quiet. Until we are alone. Then he steps back just enough to look at me, both hands coming to my face so quickly and so gently it makes my throat tighten.
His palms frame my cheeks.
His thumbs sweep under my eyes.
“Are you okay, Baby?” I nod. His jaw flexes. “I need your words.”
A tiny laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. Even now. Even in this. He needs my words.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”
His eyes search mine like he’s trying to read every hidden thing I’m not saying.
“He didn’t do anything,” I tell him quickly, because I can already see the storm building in his face. “He scared me, that’s all. But you got here in time.”
Dean steps back. Just one pace. But it feels wrong instantly, the air colder without him pressed against me. His hands drag through his hair.
“No.” The word comes rough. Angry. At himself. “I didn’t protect you.”
My brows pull together. “Dean—”
“I promised you.” His voice rises, not at me, just from panic, from guilt, from everything he is choking on. “I promised you I would keep you safe and I let you walk away from me and he got to you.”
He turns, pacing once in the small office like he can’t stand still with the amount of blame ripping through him.
“I knew something was going to happen. I fucking knew it.”
“Dean.”
“And I still let you tell me you were fine.”
He is spiraling so fast I can practically see it happening. The guilt. The anger. The self-hatred.
I push off the wall and step right into him.
Hard enough that my palms hit his chest with a soft thud. He stops. Looks down at me.
“You are amazing,” I say firmly, shoving him once more when he opens his mouth to argue. “Do you hear me?”
His lips part. No words come out.
“You came when I needed you,” I tell him, my voice shaking now not from fear but from how deeply I mean every word. “You protected me. You stood between me and him before I could even blink.”
His breathing is still too fast. His eyes still too wild. So I press my hand flatter over his heart. Grounding him the way he always grounds me.
“I could not ask for a better partner,” I whisper. His throat moves. “And I could not ask for someone better to love.”