Whatever Marcos is saying, it’s carving into him—I can see it in the stillness, the way his body absorbs the words without flinching.
What does Marcos want?Does he want Maddox back on the team?Or is it the other way around?I saw first-hand how alive he was on the track today, how, even if he won’t admit it, racing is in his blood.I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted back on the team.Maybe that’s what he’s hiding?
The call ends abruptly, but he doesn’t come inside.Both hands grip the railing, head bowed, like the cold might numb whatever he’s still holding.
Katie and Raf say their goodbyes and slip out, and then Meri heads to bed with a quiet kiss to my cheek.I want to wait, want to be the one still here when he comes back through that door.
Instead, Blane materializes at my elbow, talking about nothing and everything.The man could blather to an empty room and not notice he’d lost his audience.
When Maddox finally comes inside, he moves through the kitchen like someone trying not to disturb anything.Shoulders set too straight.Face too composed.The kind of calm that looks practiced not genuine.
“Goodnight.”He doesn’t look at me directly, but his gaze snags on mine as he passes, quick, unsettled, stripped of whatever armor he took outside with him.
Whatever happened on that porch didn’t stay there.It followed him back in, settled into his shoulders, and pulled his attention somewhere I can’t reach.
I shouldn’t want to go after him, shouldn’t want to ask if he’s okay or be the person he reaches for when something cracks open, but heaven help me, I do.
And that’s exactly the problem—because I can’t tell anymore where the reporter ends and the rest of me begins.Both want the same thing.Both wantin.
One of them has a job to do.
The other is starting to forget why that matters.
Chapter22
Maddox
The clean swish as the ball hits the rim and drops through the net ricochets down my body.The boys erupt in cheers, and Beckett shouts something cocky as the seniors clap him on the back.
A grin tugs at my mouth.“Nice.Now do it again with someone in your face.”
A chorus of groans, a round of shoves, and then they’re back in line.This—the noise, the energy, the chaos—soothes something in me.I haven’t felt this rooted in years, and for the first time in a long damn while, I belong.
Even still, my chest hasn’t loosened, not since Grace walked in with Blane for my final gym class of the day and stayed through practice.It’s been like this all week—Grace and her annoying sidekick showing up around town, at the house, here, snapping photos, asking questions, orbiting my life like it’s open for inspection.
Funny how I was getting used to it when it was just her, maybe even accepting it.Now, with Blane, it’s a pain in my ass.We’re coming up to three weeks, and yet, with his arrival, it’s like we’re starting from scratch.
And on top of that, I’m holding my breath.Marcos calling three days ago has me on edge—texts were one thing, but calling crossed a line.
His voice was slick and satisfied, like he tasted victory.“I was beginning to think you were ignoring me.”He paused to let the implication land.“Not a smart move, Champ.You should know that by now.”
“What do you want?”I gripped the phone tight.
“Just checking in on the exposé—” He landed another deliberate pause.“I mean, profile.”His chuckle at his own word choice wrapped around me like a vise.
“It’s under control.Was that it?”
“Since you ask…” The subtle shift in his tone indicated we were getting to the real reason for his call.“I want you to cover my leadership style, the camaraderie I’ve built.The pit crew, the engineering team—make it clear I assembled the best in the business.Because I did, and that needs to come through.”
He wasn’t wrong, exactly.The pit crew, the engineers, everyone around him was elite.Marcos wasn’t all bad.He had a knack for picking top-tier talent, for winning, for drawing out the best in people.I just figured out too late he led through dominance and quiet manipulation, and beneath the wins was a vindictive bastard who never forgot a slight.
“Marcos, I’ve got this.”
“I’m not sure you do.”Again with the silence, calculated and weaponized.
A control tactic I’d watched him exercise more times than I could count.But not aimed at me until I’d decided to leave.
He wanted me to fill this silence, squirm, but I didn’t.I would’ve stayed on this phone all night before giving him that.