“Hey,” he said as he tipped my chin to look at him. His voice sounded gentler than it had a moment before, but there was still a hard look to his eyes, a grim set to his features.
I knew, then, he was worlds apart from anyone else at that pathetic "party."
“I’d like to…make sure you get home OK.”
I looked away. “I think, I’ve caused you enough trouble. I didn’t realize…it didn’t occur to me?—”
“Don’t,” he ducked his head and spoke in a quiet voice, beside my ear. “Just let me take you home.”
I ached to lean into him. To hold him, to let him hold me. Instead, I straightened, nodded and tried to manage a small smile.
He pulled away, dumping my duffle bag in the bed of his truck before helping me into the passenger seat. We settled into his truck, the doors locked, gears shifted. His rough hand with reddened knuckles reached for mine.
Air filled my lungs for what felt like the first time in…so long.
He unknotted and peeled back the towel. “It’s not deep.”
“It’ll be a problem during softball practice.” I let out a sigh. “I’ll have to have some story to tell my coach.”
“Softball.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Why not tell them the truth?” He spoke to the windshield as his palm gently settled over mine. It was warm and calloused, his fingers gently wrapping around my hand. The connection strong but tender, it sparked electric tingles in my abdomen, and charged this magnetic “pull” between us.
Does he feel it too?
I blinked and glanced at his profile. “I just don’t want to open that can of worms.” I brushed my fingers over his swollen knuckles. “We should get you some ice for this.”
He nodded and retracted his hand to put the truck in gear. We rolled to the end of the parking lot, then turned onto Main Street before he said the words that changed my life.
"How long has he been abusing you?"
Chapter Eight
ELLA
February 14
Charity Flag Football Game
The skin of my arm sang where he touched me. Even though I'd known he'd be here and tried to prepare myself, as soon as I saw him again, the world stopped. Gravity shifted, pulling at my limbs even as a whirling tempest brewed inside.
And I'm decidedlynotover him.I mentally groaned at the unfairness of it all.
For months, I'd been perfecting the art of not-thinking about Maddox McBride. It started with not-thinking about how we met, our mouths reckless, my hands clinging to his shoulders, the feel of his arms around my waist…Or how everything inside my flesh moved without prior consent of my brain.
It was a bit harder to not-think about how he'd played volunteer security detail, watching over me as I packed mystuff to move from the sorority house. Then, he helped me move into Kanami's off-campus apartment.
I took a deep breath and folded my leg to continue my stretch.
But I most certainly never thought about—anymore, anyway—how safe I felt when he'd stay over, as the height of Ash's "coping mechanisms" became some mix of drinking and stalking.
Because just when I'd thought maybe, just maybe, everything happened for a reason—and my "reason" was Maddox McBride, he chose to push me away. But not before we crossed a few "just friends" boundaries, and almost…
My skin flushed hot as a cold, sick, churning hollowed out my stomach.
No, I definitely never think about how it felt to have his rock-solid, sweat-slicked body pressed against mine.His breath hot against my ear, groaning my name as his fingers teased my aching core to, ahem, certain orgasmic heights.
Icouldn'tthink about it because it led to remembering how he left me that night—wanton and needy, so desperate to be his.
"Maddox…"
