Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“Not bad,” Kayla says, fighting a smile, “but that wasn’t it.” She inhales, then blurts out, “I was lonely.” Her eyes jump from me to Maddox like she’s waiting for us to laugh at her, but there is no laugh forthcoming. Not about that.
“Unfamiliar city, shitty day, another forgettable hotel? I can see that. Sometimes, I get that way when we have a run of away games. Like the anonymity of it all overwhelms you, making you feel like an inconsequential ant on a big rock in a whole field of dirt,” Maddox says with a nod.
My brow furrows. I wouldn’t have thought Maddox even knew the definition of the word lonely. He’s always surrounded by people, the life of every party, and if there’s not a party, he creates one with his natural charisma. But he sounds like he means it, so I suppose it’s possible even he feels alone sometimes.
“And there we were, looking good and offering hot and sexy excitement,” he says, his pressure on-pressure off approach continuing.
Kayla shakes her head. “Not only that night, though it came to a head then. I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. Or I was.” She goes quiet, and this time, Maddox doesn’t save her. After a long stretch of silence, she says, “My whole family has grown by leaps and bounds over the last few years, with all of my brothers going from single to coupled up, and I love that for them. Truly. And I have more friends in my sisters-in-law than I’ve ever had, which I’m so grateful for. But sometimes, when we’re all together, I feel so… invisible. They have all these stories and experiences, and I’m sitting there like ‘had another meeting’ or ‘working on this contract’.”
Her eyes implore us to understand what she’s saying, but I think she’s still figuring it out for herself. Because I get it. I’m a workaholic in my own way, with all of my conversations centering on hockey, at least most of the time. In my case, though, the people I spend time with usually only care about hockey too. Like Maddox.
“If I add anything to the conversation, I feel like my dad. For most of my life, all he’s ever brought to the table was work, work, work, and I know how that made the rest of us feel. I don’t want to do that, only offer that. So I try to ask questions, be involved in whatever they have going on, but in the end, I’m tagging along on their adventures, not living a life of my own.” She freezes, her gaze dropping to her plate of barely touched chicken as if she can’t believe she just said that aloud.
“Do we make it feel like you’re living your life?” Maddox asks. He’s being totally serious, putting the pressure back on now that her walls are coming down, brick by fragile brick.
She takes a long, slow breath, and I feel as though her answer has the potential to destroy me more than anything Eliza ever did, and that’s saying a lot. Maddox cautioned me that if no-strings fucking is all Kayla wants, we’ll respect that, and I agreed. Early on. But I’m in too deep now. I’m reading into every look, every invitation, every touch, and I want more than casual with her, which scares the absolute shit out of me. The only thing scarier would be her saying that casual is all she can do. That would gut me at this point.
Quietly, she confesses, “That night made me feel like I could be the one with a story to tell. An experience to relive.” As though speaking those words emboldened her, she locks eyes with Maddox, then me. “I have felt happier in the last few weeks than I ever have in my life.”
The smile on my face feels strange, like the muscles have forgotten how to stretch that much since I don’t typically smile this wide. But I can’t help it. Kayla’s answer reflects my own feelings about the last few weeks. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
I’m okay. She’s okay. Maddox is okay. Well, as okay as he ever is considering he’s currently shimmying his shoulders with some impromptu song that amounts to ‘oh yeah, woohoo, uh-huh, she likes us’, which he’s intentionally singing very off-key.
And you know what? Maybe we’re not just okay. We’re happy.
“This is insane. You know that, right?” Kayla says from the backseat of Maddox’s SUV.
I glance behind me to see her sitting primly in the middle seat with her legs crossed and a leather weekender bag beside her. The smile on her face says her soul disagrees with her mind’s analytical evaluation of our actions of the last three hours.
“It was your idea,” Maddox throws over his shoulder.