Page 3 of False Start
This wasn’t the Madelyn I knew.
A war of emotions rioted inside of me. I wanted to scream at her, to grab her arms and shake her and demand she tell me what happened all those years ago.
I also wanted to ignore her, to treat her like the scum of the earth — the way she made me feel when she walked away from me.
And more than any of that, I wanted to hold her.
I wanted to pull her into me, brush her copper hair from her face and ask what happened to my girl — because she wasn’t here now.
This was only a shell of the Madelyn that used to exist.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me,” I said, arching a brow. “You’ve never been pretty when you lie.”
Her hand was still shaking a bit as she removed it from where it covered her mouth. She tried to stand a little taller,swallowing, her eyes finally lifting to mine. And again, I felt that war raging inside me.
I wanted to be a colossal dick to her and make her hurt.
But I also wanted to know why she looked so hurt already, wanted to wipe whoever made her feel that way from the face of the Earth.
Fortunately, I’d played the role of cocky, self-absorbed asshole for long enough that it was almost my true personality. So, I grinned at her discomfort.
“Of course, I remember you,” she said weakly.
I waited for more, but nothing else came. She just stared at me, in shock or disbelief or both.
I blinked, and a scorching night from my youth flashed behind my eyes. I saw my hands tangled in that copper hair, saw the freckles that dusted her collarbone, saw how those warm brown eyes looked up at me shyly before I slid inside her.
I could still hear the exact gasp she let out when I did, could remember how her nails dug into my shoulders just slightly and her eyelids fluttered shut. It was the first time she’d felt a man that way, the first time she’d let anyone touch her like that.
It was the first time for me, too.
I’d had countless women since that night, and yet they were all forgettable in comparison. It was only that first time that still clung to me like tree sap.
As if she was lost in the same memory, Madelyn cleared her throat, turning on her heel and gesturing to the large pivot door that was already open and giving a view of the foyer.
“I’m happy to guide you through the home, if you’d like, or you can explore on your own,” she said, leading the way inside. It was like watching someone put on a mask or slip into a costume too big for them. She was pretending like this was an everyday occurrence, like seeing me for the first time in years didn’t shake her to her core.
Maybe it didn’t.
That thought stung me like a wasp as I dragged my feet to follow. I swallowed it down, along with any feelings trying to stir their way to life, and I put my own mask in place.
“I doubt you can guide me anywhere in those,” I said, letting my eyes rake down her lean legs and catch on her stiletto heels as I walked past her. It was easy to do, my strides three times hers.
I waited for her to snap back at me, because that’s how it used to be. I was a mouthy motherfucker, and she was the poor girl assigned to babysit me when I was far too old for it. My parents didn’t trust me, which pissed me off. So, I made it my mission to break the poor girl they chose to be my caretaker.
Unfortunately, it was her who brokemein the end.
But Madelyn didn’t sass back. She didn’t peg me with an insult three times as good as mine the way she so easily used to. Instead, she shrank even more in on herself, looking down at her shoes with her cheeks tingeing pink in embarrassment.
And I instantly felt like an asshole.
I paused, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but it dissolved like sugar when the knot in my chest reminded me of our history.
“Tell the truth — is this place worth the price tag?” I asked, waltzing past her and into the sitting area. It was an open-seating plan, the ceilings tall, the windows lining the back of the house stretching from the marble floors all the way to the wooden beams. The view of Mount Rainier was a cool one, I admitted to myself, but overall, the place didn’t really impress me.
It felt like something built in the 80s and half-heartedly updated to try to feel modern.
“It’s a lovely home,” she said, and I eyed her over my shoulder, because her voice was so damn weak it didn’t make sense.
