Page 12 of Her Mountain Man Outlaw
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him.
Maddox nods, and with one last kiss, he vanishes down the corridor and into the bathroom, leaving me alone on the couch. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, letting everything wash over me. I can still feel the warmth between my legs where Maddox slid his tongue, the slight burn where his beard rubbed against my skin.
I can’t believe how amazing that was…
Grinning to myself, I stretch out my limbs like a cat, pushing myself up into a sitting position. The fire is smoldering out, so I stoke it until it’s warm and blazing. As I set the poker down, I hear my phone beep from somewhere nearby. Spotting it on the table where I left it this morning, I get up and grab it, absent-mindedly wondering if any of my applications have been accepted yet. All of my job worries feel so far away now that I’m up here with Maddox, but I can’t afford to stop checking my inbox. I won’t be holed up in Maddox’s cabin forever. Once the snow melts, I’ll have to go back to the real world, and that means finding a job if I want to eat this winter.
I sit on the couch and unlock my phone, rolling my eyes when I see the notification is a weather warning for heavy snow.
“It’s a bit late to warn me now,” I mutter.
Not that I’m complaining. Without the snowstorm, I wouldn’t have met Maddox, and I smile to myself as I swipethe notification away. When it’s gone, I blink in confusion at my screen for a second. There’s a Google search for Maddox Albrecht.
When did I search that?
And then I remember. After I found the photo album under his bed, I googled Maddox’s full name out of curiosity. Nothing came up—there was no cell service—but the page seems to have loaded in the meantime. I’m not expecting to find anything. Maddox isn’t exactly the kind of guy to be on social media or have a strong online presence. But then I start scrolling through the results.
Manhunt continues for Maddox Albrecht
Dangerous fugitive
On the run
Wanted for murder
My stomach turns to ice. The headlines reach out through my screen and slap me in the face. They all date back to 2010, a murder committed in Florida, and I relax for a second.
It must be a different Maddox.
Some guy in Florida with the same name.
I click on the first article and scroll down. Then I see a photo that punches the air from my lungs. It’s the same photo of Maddox I saw in the album—the one taken in his Army uniform. The picture is zoomed in on his face, everyone else cut out. My mouth is dry, alarms ringing inside my head.
What the heck is happening?
“Sophia?”
I jump, whipping around to see Maddox. His gaze slides down to my phone, and I know he’s seen my screen—seen his own younger face peering out at us. He looks shocked, like he just got socked in the face. Then his expression crumples. He runs a hand over his beard, exhaling deeply, his eyes filled with so much pain that it almost hurts to look at him.
“I know what it looks like,” he says. “But please let me explain.” He raises his hands, like he’s surrendering to me. “Then I promise I will get you back down the mountain safely. You never have to hear from me again. Just…please, Sophia, let me tell you the full story first.”
I don’t have much choice. We’re snowed in together, and there’s nowhere for me to go. Maddox looks so desperate, so sincere, but I can’t get the articles out of my head, the headlines, that same word repeated over and over again.
Murderer.
8
MADDOX
My stomach roilswhen I see the way Sophia is looking at me. She looks terrified, and I can’t blame her. I don’t know how she found out my full name, but it doesn’t matter. She knows what I did. And now all that matters is trying to explain myself to this angel. Anything to stop her looking so damn scared of me. I can’t fucking bear it.
“Please,” I tell her, my voice strangled and hoarse. “Will you hear me out?”
Sophia watches me anxiously from the couch, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
I let out a deep breath and take a seat on the armchair by the fire. I wish I could sit with Sophia, wrap an arm around her and tell her everything will be okay. But I don’t want to scare her more than she already is. She’s biting her lip, fiddling with the sleeve of my green sweater. A bundle of nervous energy.
Fuck, where do I even begin with this story?
