Page 25 of The Ruckup
Leo is shaking his head, the motion cutting me off. “Drake isn’t going to find my address.” He gives me a lopsided smile that eases a little of my fear. “I bought my house using an LLC, so no one can tie it to me. Otherwise there would be people showing up on my doorstep all the time asking for my autograph.”
I exhale, relieved. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
Leo lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “My accountant suggested it.”
Again, I’m reminded of the dramatic difference in Leo’s life and mine. He’s got a house I could never hope to afford. An expensive car with a custom paint job. A freaking accountant.
Oh, and he’s a famous rugby player.
It’s so similar to the sort of power imbalance that made my marriage what it was. But Leo has never made me feel like he’s the one calling the shots because he’s the one with the money.
If anything, he’s done the opposite. A point he proves as he leads me inside, giving me a tour of his home.
I pass through a kitchen sporting high-end appliances and stone counters. A dining room that can easily seat twelve people. A family room with a gigantic sectional and an entertainment center featuring the biggest television I think I’ve ever seen.
Beyond that, the furnishings are a little sparse, which makes me feel somewhat better about my own lack of furniture.
The large bedroom on the main floor is occupied by a king-size bed on a basic frame, a couple of nightstands, and a dresser. They all look high quality—way better than anything I have—but they are the extent of his bedroom furnishings.
He has five bedrooms and only owns one bed.
I stare at it, swallowing hard at how little I hate the idea of sharing that big bed with Leo. What would it be like to snuggle close to someone I trust? Someone who makes me feel safe and beautiful and appreciated.
I’m not going to find out, because Leo immediately says, “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”
Well… That’s disappointing.
“You don’t have to give me your bed.” I turn to face him, still working my hands against my skirt because the damn things won’t get their shit together and stop freaking sweating. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s fine.” I realize ‘it’s fine’ sounds like I don’t genuinely appreciate everything he’s done for me, so I amend to, “Better than fine.”
Leo angles a brow. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, Maddie.”
I angle a brow back at him, lifting my chin just a little before arguing back, “You shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch either,Leo.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m startled by them. I don’t argue with people. Not my parents. Not strangers. Even the residents at the apartment complex. I calmly negotiate. Attempt to get my point across in a way that won’t upset anyone.
It doesn’t usually work, but it’s the way I’ve always been. Even before my marriage to Drake.
I was raised by parents who believed their word was law. That children should be seen and not heard. That they were in charge.
And if I ever tried to go against them, there was hell to pay.
As a result, I learned to be passive. To back down. To let everyone else win so I could avoid conflict. Avoid an argument.
So my immediate clapback is evidence of how safe I feel with Leo. Not just physically, but also emotionally.
That’s probably why I find myself offering up a suggestion I can’t imagine I’d be brave enough to voice with anyone else. “We can share the bed.”
My parents would die if they heard what just came out of my mouth, but I’m finding I care less and less about what my parents think. Trying to do what they wanted is a big part of what landed me with Drake. They’re the ones who built me to be passive. To be meek. To let other people make decisions for me.
To let other people run my life.
I can’t live like that anymore. I don’t want to be around people who try to tell me what to do. What to think. How to act. I want to be around people who let me be me. People who care what I think. What I want. How I feel.
People like Leo.
Leo studies me for a few silent seconds. “We should decide what we want for dinner.”
The abrupt change in the direction of the conversation makes me blink in confusion. I know Leo likes me. That was very obvious last night right before our evening was derailed by a car fire and a dead guy.
