Page 16 of The Ruckup
I know she hates ketchup but loves tomato sauce. That her best friend is her grandma—Abuela—and they talk every day. I’ve learned how much she genuinely enjoys her job. Her unexplainable appreciation for some show called Match Me Abroad.
What happened between her and her prick of an ex-husband.
I’ve never struggled to contain my emotions as much as I did while Maddie recounted just a little of what occurred during the course of their marriage. The physical and mental abuse shesuffered. The control he exerted over nearly every aspect of her life.
The way he wants that to continue.
If I ever have the opportunity to get my hands on that son of a bitch, I won’t waste it. And I won’t feel bad for whatever happens. He deserves an ass kicking for making Maddie feel like she isn’t good enough. For making her afraid. Untrusting of herself and everyone else.
A fact I’m determined to change. At least where I’m involved.
Instead of staring at my phone waiting for her to reply like I want to, I head to the bathroom, stripping down before stepping under the spray. The water’s a cool relief for my heated skin, so I take just a second to let it run over me. Let the chill sink deep enough I can remember it in a few hours when I’m desperate for a cold shower.
Because keeping my hands off Maddie isn’t easy.
I know I’ve already touched her. But now that I know more about what she’s been through, I need to make it clear I like her for more than just her body.
Perfect as it is.
After lingering in the shower as long as I can stand, I towel off, throw on jeans and a T-shirt, and check my phone again. A smile spreads across my face when I see she’s responded.
Just finishing up at work and headed home. What about you?
I’m already making plans in my head. Deciding what I should feed her. If she’ll like the treat I picked up for her to take to work tomorrow.
Whether or not it’s too soon to kiss her.
But none of that matters if I can’t secure an invitation to her apartment, so I send a reply that’s most definitely fishing.
Just finished showering after a workout. Now I’m deciding what to eat for dinner.
I stare down at the screen, waiting for the response I want. It’s coming—at least I hope it is. I just have to wait for it. Let her decide if we spend the evening together or alone.
Otherwise, I’ll be the one driving the car I’m determined to let Maddie steer.
And steer it she does.
Want company?
That’s all I need to hear.
On my way.
I grab my keys, a hoodie, and the bag of chewy, sour candy she said is her favorite, lock up and head out into the cooling evening air. It never gets cold in this part of Florida, but the evenings can get cool. Especially this time of year.
Cool enough I’m picturing an evening curled up on Maddie’s couch under the fuzzy blanket I brought over Saturday after noticing she seemed chilly while we did our frosting tastetesting. We can eat our dinner and she can recount any funny stories that happened over the course of her day.
Because it sounds like something funny happens every day.
When I found out the community she manages caters to an older demographic, I assumed it was a pretty boring place. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Based on a few of the stories Maddie told me over the weekend, the people who occupy the units at Sweet Side Apartments are rowdier than my teammates.
And apparently just as horny.
They also seem to be fiercely protective of Maddie. Someone has stopped me every time I’ve gone to her place. Grilled me about who I am and what I’m doing visiting her.
I’m pretty sure one of the old guys was even sizing me up. Like he was trying to figure out if he could take me in a fight. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. But only because I offered up my driver’s license for inspection.
