Page 90 of Maddox
“You don’t like this shit?”
Stifling a smile, I shake my head, especially when he exhales as though relieved and changes the channel.
“What do you like?” he asks.
“Ooo,” I say when he passes a particularly good thriller. “That one.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, that guy gets stuck in the woods with his three friends after a hiking trip gone wrong. Then weird shit starts to happen.”
His lips twitch before he sets the remote aside. Relaxed for the first time in days and happy to have his company, I settle in, mouthing the dialogue every once in a while.
When he snorts, I glance up, my stomach whooshing at the twinkle in his eyes as he shakes his head.
Once the credits roll, I shift around but find him sleeping, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks.
I’m tempted to reach out and touch him, run the tips of my fingers down the smooth skin of his arms and trace the tattoos that tell his story.
I’d like to touch far more than that, including his lips, parted while he sleeps.
Instead, I rest my cheek on my hand and watch him like a total creeper until sleep claims me too.
Maddox
“Please, Mad?” she whines, and I groan, throwing out my arm.
This is bullshit.
I should be out combing the streets with the brothers but no, instead Pops ordered me here and now I’m stuck negotiating with a terrorist with wide brown eyes and the diabolical mind of a forty-year-old stuck in a child’s body.
If I have to play tea party or brush her doll’s hair one more time, I’m gonna lose my shit.
“M-a-d,” Draven calls, and I wince before turning back to her.
She eyes me up and down and a shiver rolls down my spine but when she stomps her foot, I mentally sigh and grab up her favorite fuzzy blanket before nodding toward the couch.
I see the victory behind her eyes, although she scrunches her nose.
Whatever, if this means she will lay down and shut the fuck up, I’m considering it a win of my own.
Thank fuck, once she’s snuggled up and watching her favorite cartoon, she falls asleep quickly and after covering her with the blanket, I rise to pace once more.
Every instinct I have is pushing me to go out that door and look for Mom, but I can’t leave Draven alone.
Still, my lungs burn with the need to know what’s going on because I still haven’t heard from Pops.
Where the fuck are they?
I’m just reaching for my phone when it finally rings and after pressing call, I turn as a beam of light flashes through the bay window.
Are they here?
Ignoring the tingle that races down my spine, I say, as I stalk to the door, “Yeah?”
Why would Pops call me if he’s at the door?
“Son?” Pops says.
