Grace
Istare at Erica, heart pounding, the ache inside me gathering weight and speed, impossible to ignore.We stand there for a beat, the two of us tethered—one to Maddox’s past, the other to his present—until a door slams downstairs.We both jump.
“Grace?”Maddox’s voice carries up the stairs.
Erica bolts out of the room, and another door slams somewhere down the hall.I force my legs to move, but I take my time.The stairs feel too steep, my body too heavy.I need to talk to him, but not with Erica here.
He’s in the living room, keys still in hand, jacket half off, brows pulling together the second he sees me.
“What happened?”He scans past me toward the stairs.“Is someone else here?”
“Erica.”I barely get her name out before she flashes through the entryway behind me, backpack slung over one shoulder, already moving for the door.
She doesn’t slow, but Maddox is faster.He runs, lunges, and wraps a hand around her arm.“What the hell are you doing here?I told you not to come back.”
Something clicks.She must have waited for him to leave before breaking in, then made her way to my room.Or did she search other rooms, too?I wasn’t home long before I heard her, but long enough, apparently.
“Let me go.”She struggles in his hold, but she doesn’t stand a chance.
He looks to me.“What’s she doing here?”
“I found her in my room.”I weigh how much to say.Erica should be held accountable, but I doubt she’ll feel any remorse for it either way.
He reads my hesitation, narrows his eyes, and cuts back to her.“Did you toss her room?Looking for drugs?Cash?”
When he mentioned Erica stealing before, this is what he meant.I’m sure of it now.
“So what if I did.”She glares up at him, defiant.
“Did she take anything?Break anything?”
“I don’t know.I dou?—”
Erica screeches and cuts me off.“No, she ain’t got shit.Now, let me go.”
He walks her to the front door, pushes her outside, and shuts it behind her like he’s disposed of something savage and unwanted.Then he locks it and turns to face me.
“I’m sor?—”
“Don’t.”I step toward him and take his hand.“Don’t apologize for her.Or any of this.It isn’t your fault.”
“Fuck.”He threads his free hand through his hair.“She came by earlier with some lie about seeing my mom.I got her to leave.I didn’t think she’d come back, but I should’ve.”
“It’s okay.I doubt she took anything.When I found her, she wasn’t too happy to discover I had no cash, no drugs, and nothing worth taking.”
“Grace.”Slinging both arms around my neck, he pulls me in, pressing his lips to the top of my head.We walk into the living room like that, still tangled together.“I wish I’d been here.”
“Seriously, I was freaked out for a minute, but I’m fine.”I rest my head against his chest and breathe him in, letting his scent, his steadiness center me.
Then I pull away to face him.“Erica told me.”
“About?”His confusion reads wrong—there’s a flicker underneath of something more careful, and I think he already knows what I mean.
“Your retirement.”
His gaze drops to the floor, and he releases a quiet “fuck” under his breath.He stays like that longer than I expect, like he’s at a loss, or worse, still deciding something.
“She shouldn’t have said anything.”