“Maddox,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.My hand tightens around the doorknob.“What are you doing here?”
He shuffles his weight from one foot to the other.“I went by the bar.Didn’t see your car.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow and lean my back against the doorjamb.“So you thought you should just drop by my apartment?”
I’m acutely aware of the fact that I’m not dressed for company.My hair is a ratty mess on top of my head, and the T-shirt I’m wearing is like six years old.There is a hole in the neckline and a stain right smack in the middle.Worst of all, you can’t even tell I’m wearing shorts under it.
He pulls his hands from his pockets and combs his fingers through his hair.“Well, yeah.”He takes a step forward, his voice dropping.“I needed to see you.”Lifting his hand, the back of his hand softly caresses the side of my cheek.“You gonna make me stand out here all night, or are you gonna let me in?”
I pull back, his touch too much for me to process.My eyes dart over my shoulder, hyperaware that Dylan could wander out of his room at any moment, and the last thing I need is for him to see Maddox.
“That’s not a good idea.My son is home.”
A frustrated growl rips past his lips, and those stormy eyes narrow into tiny slits.“For fuck’s sake, Amelia.I’m not looking to bend you over the couch.”
“You’re not?”I squeak.
Something flickers across his face, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t get it twisted, darlin’.I would love nothing more than to tear those clothes from your body and hear you scream my name, but I didn’t come here for that.”He takes a step backward.“I came here because my life is a fucking mess, and the only time I feel somewhat grounded is when I’m near you.The noise in my head isn’t as loud.The weight on my chest doesn’t feel as heavy.But I’ll leave.”
He turns to do just that, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat, and something inside me cracks.I can’t let him walk away—not when he looks so broken.
If that makes me a fool, so be it.
“Maddox wait.”He stills, glancing over his shoulder at me.“You can come inside.”I push off the doorjamb and step aside, giving him room to enter.“Dylan is in his room.He probably won’t even come out.We can talk quietly.”
He searches my face for a moment, then steps inside.His arm brushes against my chest, and my nipples pebble at the touch, poking through the thin fabric of my T-shirt.I really wish I would’ve put a bra on before answering the damn door.
I close the door gently and lead him into the living room.His eyes dart around the room, taking in every inch of space.The mismatched furniture, and the picture frames—all depicting different stages of Dylan’s life.
We settle on opposite ends of the couch, the cushions dipping beneath his weight.A heavy silence washes over us, but it feels charged.
Dangerous.
I clear my throat.“Can I get you something to drink?I don’t have any whiskey, but I might have a few canned margaritas in the back of my fridge.”
The corners of his mouth lift.“Isn’t that sacrilegious for a bartender?”
“Probably, but it’s a necessity for a mom.”I swipe my hands over my thighs and pop off the couch.“Don’t knock it until you try it, cowboy.”
I disappear into the kitchen, my pulse hammering as I grab two canned margaritas from the fridge.I hand him one, and open mine, taking a long sip, hoping it will calm my nerves.He pops open the can and takes a pull.
“Not bad,” he says, setting the can gently on the coffee table.
“I told you.”I fold my legs under me, my hands closing around the can as I turn to face him, and our eyes lock.
“Yeah, you did,” he murmurs.“I took your advice.Spoke to my sister.”
“And?”
His eyes grow glassy, and he looks away, jaw clenched tight.“I’ve failed her, Amelia,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.“All these years, I resented her… I made her the villain, and last night I learned she’s been the victim.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes flit to mine.“Since my mother died, I’ve been the self-proclaimed fixer.The guy who holds everything and everyone together.But I can’t fix the past.”
“That sounds very ominous, Maddox.”
