Page 47 of Maddox
Snatching up the money, I concentrate on ringing up the sale as I whisper, “Yeah.”
I don’t want to cry here. I don’t want to cry at all.
Dammit.
“Then you know,” he says, “you can tell me anything and we’ll work it out together.”
I don’t know what to say. I know he’s overcome by grief. We all are but he can’t take back what he said and sometimes words are more powerful than actions.
Is he asking me about Mom? Or that day? Or does he assume that I have a secret of my own that sent me running from home?
If it was the former, I can’t help him. He’ll see the truth for himself eventually.
As for the latter, well, I didn’t have any secrets from my parents.
Paralyzed with indecision, I stare over his shoulder until he sighs and says, “Call if you need anything.”
With a rigid nod, I watch him leave before pushing through the doors to the back and leaning against the wall.
I’m so torn.
Deep down, I know that they love me but how can I just ignore the fact that they’re not only lying to me but themselves?
This is bigger than me and although I’m grateful Peter has shown his love, I can’t just ignore the giant elephant in the room.
All this circles my brain as I finish out my shift and gather my belongings.
As soon as I’m out the door, the tears I've been pushing back for hours rush in and for the seven billionth time, I wipe my eyes as I round the mini-mart and stumble to a stop.
The sleek chrome of the motorcycle shines by the light of the streetlamp as I take in the man who I’ve barely met but inspires all kinds of havoc in my system.
His black hair tumbles over his forehead and my fingers itch to touch the silky strands when Maddox looks up from where he’s leaning all sexy like against his bike and his mouth curves into a wicked smirk.
It should be criminal to look that good and pressing my hand against my swirling tummy, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
I suppose it’s a stupid question because it’s the same auto body shop, he disappeared into after the altercation the other day but it’s all I’ve got as he stands and cocks his head.
My skin tingles when his eyes drop down to my shoes and make their way back to my face.
Resisting the urge to smooth my hair or something equally stupid, I still wish that I had taken time to put on makeup or wear something other than my torn up baggy jeans.
When those beautiful dark eyes finally meet mine again, they twinkle as he says, “Well, if it isn’t the pretty little cheerleader.”
Once again, I can’t tell if he’s mocking me, but his smile fades when he looks beyond my shoulder and says, “Where you going?”
“Home.”
His brows furrow and we stand in silence while I summon a brain cell or two.
Who is he really? The guy with the sexy smirk and teasing persona or the man who shoved Micah against a wall like he weighed nothing.
“You seen Joshy again?” he asks.
“Huh? No,” I mutter because it’s a weird question and I don’t want to talk about Josh with Maddox.
I don’t want to talk about Josh at all.
“Hm,” he finally says before holding out his hand. “Ready for a little adventure?”
