Page 30 of Maddox
Luckily, we don’t have any classes together, but football season is over and with more time on his hands, I know I can’t outrun him forever.
I haven’t heard from Mom, which means she’s respecting my wish to back off.
After my last class, I’m sure that won’t last though because I failed an important test and now if I want to graduate, I have to do extra credit.
I’m not ashamed to say that tears prick my eyes at the thought. I’m running on empty and adding to my plate feels particularly cruel.
So, when my phone buzzes in my pocket, I’m grateful to turn my thoughts, although I’m expecting it to be Micah, which is why I skid to a stop when I find a voicemail from Mom.
Hey sweetie, I was hoping we could talk. I guess maybe you’re busy. I, um, miss you, little bird. Can you call me? Here’s the number. Um…555-0124. Call me, okay?
Little bird.
I asked my mom once why she called me that and her lips curved into a soft smile, before she said, “Because you were my hope when I had none. Your existence breathed life into me like a beautiful song and it’s what kept me going after the worst moment of my life.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, my fingers hover over the keys before eventually I tuck the phone away and continue my trek.
My soul burns because I know she’s hurting but what can I possibly say?
I hurt too. I lost someone too and spending all my time worrying about her hasn’t made a damn difference.
Still, I miss them. I had a good life. Peter has always treated me as his own and this is why it’s so hard to reconcile how much the people that I love have changed.
Either way, as the days pass everything gets harder to deal with, especially when I dig into my hard-earned stash of money and grab a box of tampons off the shelf.
I’ve never had to worry about paying for shit like this before but my dad sure as shit doesn’t care if I bleed through my panties.
Since I know I’m going to be cranky and bloated for the next few days, I stop at the candy aisle and peruse the options. I shouldn’t be wasting my money on this, but I deserve a little slice of happiness amongst cramps, don’t I?
Engrossed in the candy selection and checking the prices for sales, I pause with my fingers hovering over the chocolate covered peanuts when a large dark shadow forms over my shoulder.
Killmenow. It’s Maddox and his lips curl into a smirk as he says, “Hey there, princess.”
I guess I’m struck dumb because I don’t move until he taps my chin and I snap my mouth closed before mumbling, “Um, hey.”
While I fumble with the basket in my hands, praying to every deity in existence that he doesn’t look inside because the jumbo box of feminine products alongside a slew of chocolate bars is hard to hide, he says, “You, okay?”
Blink. Blink again. Nod.
As much as I enjoy just looking at the freak of godly nature, he really needs to move on—like now.
My pleas go unanswered though because he advances as I back away until I hit the candy behind me and one of the bars slips from the slot, ricochets off the other bins, and drops conveniently into the basket that I’m holding close to my side.
Of course, I must be damned because his eyes follow that fucking candy bar down to the basket. I’m still hoping he’ll give it a cursory glance when his brows rise, and he reaches past me.
Our gazes lock and I hold my breath when his arm brushes my shoulder, and he plucks a candy bar off the shelf.
Fighting back a shiver, I follow his eyes while he examines the bar before dropping the caramel chocolate goodness in my basket.
“Hm,” he says, and the low rumble sends heat cascading along my skin. Turning so that his lips brush my ear, he leans in and says, “You should have that, too. For the cramps.”
Speechless, I can only stare as he presses a finger against my jaw and pushes it closed.
After that, he winks and walks away.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t check out his ass in his jeans but when he pauses at the end of the aisle and I look up, my mortification is complete because he chuckles and shakes his head.
Once he’s gone, I lean my forehead against the display and mumble, “Why god. Fucking why?”
