Page 23 of Mud & Moxie
It’s fire meeting gasoline—fierce, consuming, years of resentment and want colliding in one impossible moment. Her fingers clutch my soaked shirt, anchoring me as if we’re both about to be carried off by the storm. I taste rain, salt, the stubborn defiance that has always driven me insane—and underneath it, the sweetness I never let myself remember.
The world drops away.
There’s only her, pressing back just as hard, as if she’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
Lightning flashes, and for a second it feels like the storm is ours, bending around us, warning and blessing all at once.
***
When we finally break apart, I’m gasping like I just surfaced from deep water. Madison’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, lips red and trembling. She looks wrecked—and so damn beautiful it hurts.
Reality slams back. We’re standing in the open yard, drenched, breathing hard. My hands are still on her waist; I force them to let go. She takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself like she’s freezing. Or like she’s afraid of what we just did.
The silence is heavier than thunder. Every thought screams at me to speak—to apologize, to demand, to confess. But all I manage is her name. “Madison…”
Her chin wobbles just enough to undo me.
She shakes her head, a single, sharp motion, like she doesn’t trust her voice.
The storm keeps roaring, but between us, it’s worse—quiet, raw, filled with everything we never said.
***
The silence stretches, taut as a wire. Do we regret it? Do we crave more? The truth hangs in the charged air, unspeakable but undeniable.
Then movement catches at the edge of my vision. Matthew stands by the tool shed, half-shadowed, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. His expression is carved from stone, but his eyes—those give him away. Anger, yes. Concern, too. And something else I don’t want to name: betrayal.
He sees his best friend kissing his sister in the middle of a storm, and the weight of that lands on my chest like a hammer. Madison follows my gaze and freezes, color draining from her face. For one suspended second, the three of us are locked in the storm’s eye—lightning, thunder, history binding us all.
Matthew doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. His look says everything:you’d better know what you’re doing, Carter.
But here’s the thing the storm doesn’t hide: he’s carrying something too. His truck’s headlights still glow faint behind him, cutting weak beams through the rain. He wasn’t coming here for show—he came to check the north pasture fencing before the storm hit harder. He always does; habit from years of working alongside Ray. He probably saw the lightning crack over the ridge and drove straight over, worried the cattle might break loose.
Now instead of fences, he finds this—me and Madison in the middle of something neither of us can name.
My fists clench at my sides. I don’t know if I do know what I’m doing. All I know is the taste of Madison still on my lips, the storm between us and around us, and Matthew’s gaze drilling into me like judgment and protection rolled into one.
The thunder rolls again, closer this time, and the storm hasn’t even begun to break.
Matthew doesn’t move right away. His eyes flick to Madison, then back to me, and I can read every line of conflict written across his face even through the rain. He wants to protect her—he’s always wanted that. He doesn’t trust me not to break what’s already fragile. But under the anger, there’s something heavier: recognition. He saw the way she leaned into me, how I reached for her without thinking. Maybe he knows this isn’t a whim or a game. Maybe he hates that part most of all—that he can see she might actually be safer with me than without.
He drags a hand over his mouth, torn between stepping in and walking away.
When he finally turns toward his truck, shoulders stiff, it’s not relief I feel.
It’s warning, and the weight of his silent verdict follows me as surely as the storm.
***
Madison bolts first, her boots splashing through the mud as she disappears toward the farmhouse. I stay rooted, rain pouring down my face until I can’t tell where it ends and I begin. My chest heaves, but not from the storm. From what we just did—and who saw it.
I lean against the fencepost, rough wood biting into my palm. The kiss plays back in a loop, sharper than lightning, hotter than fire. I’d give anything to do it again. But Matthew’s glare burns just as fierce. He’s not wrong to doubt me. I’ve spent years building walls against Madison, convincing myself I didn’t need her, that she didn’t belong here. And in one reckless moment, I tore it all down.
The rain starts to ease, thunder rolling farther off. My body unclenches, but my head’s a snarl of guilt and want. I imagine Matthew climbing into his truck, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles pale. He came here to check fences, to keep the farm safe. Instead, he found me failing the one job he trusted me with—protecting his sister.
Lightning flickers weak in the distance, the storm drifting east.
But the one inside me is only getting started.
