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Maddox grasped my elbow and tugged me to him. I fell against his chest, and he lowered his head, practically snarling into my face. “You are my everything, and the last thing I wanted to do was betray you. But I had to, Lila. I had to, so I could protect you.”
I slammed my fist into his chest and pushed away from him. Stop, I silently begged. Just… stop.
He didn’t stop. “Remember what you said to me the first time we visited your parents?” he asked, but didn’t wait for me to answer. “You told me that you hated me before, because I was a reminder of the boy who ruined you and stole your life from you.”
Yes, I did say that.
I did hate him because the ‘Maddox Coulter,’ I met four years ago, reminded me too much of Christian.
“Tell me, Lila,” he growled, his voice strained. His gaze flitted back and forth, searching my face. “How could I tell you the truth? How fucking could I? The person who killed your parents was the same boy I grew up with. You would have looked at me the same way you’re looking at me now.”
It was a sick twist of truth and our reality. Everything he was saying made sense. But I couldn’t accept it. I needed a reason to blame him, to hate him.
“Stop,” I said, my voice shaking. Tremors ran down my body, and I felt so… cold.
Maddox manhandled me. He grasped my jaw and forced me look at him, into his manic eyes. “Why did you help me, Lila?”
Shut up. Please.
His fingers dug into my cheeks. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t gentle either. “Why?” He breathed; his lips so close to mine.
BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.
My heart stuttered. I felt dizzied…as realization dawned on me.
I stumbled back, away from him. My gut twisted, a fiery inferno from deep within me.
His arms fell to his sides, and he squeezed his eyes shut against my rejection. His lips parted, and he whispered my name… but I was already running away. From him.
From my truth.
From our reality.
From… everything.
I ran into my apartment and slammed the door closed behind me, sinking to the hardwood floor. A loud, choked sob spilled past my lips.
I felt Maddox, on the other side. He didn’t knock… but I felt him. Standing there, right outside the door. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I muffled the broken sounds that were spilling from my throat.
Kismet was a demented bitch.
Funny how, four years ago, I loathed Maddox…and would have hated him, if I found out about his connection with Christian.
And now that I knew the truth… I still loved him with every fiber of my being.
I loved him hard.
I loved him without restraint.
I loved him, as much as I hated Christian.
Maddox Coulter.
My best friend.
My lover.
My protector.
My downfall.
I spent two days agonizing over Maddox and our fallout.
Two days and two nights…
It was a battle with my brain and my heart. Anxiety got the best of me. My emotions were in turmoil, and I didn’t know what to do… what to think… what to believe in anymore. I told myself it was okay to be hurt, to feel betrayed. Then, I told myself I was being unreasonable.
It wasn’t Maddox driving the car that night. It wasn’t Maddox who killed my parents. So, why was I punishing him? Punishing us?
Two days and two nights…
My overthinking had always been my biggest flaw.
Once I had calmed down, I started to see things clearly. It became easier to reason with myself. If there was someone who deserved the full lash of my hatred and my fury… it was the Carmichaels. Not Maddox.
His betrayal had cut deep, but now that I had the time to think about it, I understood why he did it. It was still a harsh truth to grasp, to swallow and to accept.
In my head, Maddox took the shape of Christian. I needed someone to be angry at, I needed someone to feel the brunt of my fury, and I directed it all toward Maddox.
I had needed someone to blame for the way my life had seemed to crumble under my feet.
Maddox was there… and I blamed him.
Now that I had the time to really think about it, I realized that the gala was a blurred mess in my brain. I had gone into shock, and I was surviving on it. I hadn’t given myself time to grieve, to come to terms with seeing Christian again, coming face-to-face with my parents’ killer.
I had been reliving my past, too overwhelmed to really process what was happening. My therapist used to say that emotional shock is a shutdown mechanism that is supposed to buy a person time to process their trauma.
Hurting Maddox… pushing Maddox further from me was my way of dealing with it. I had been vulnerable… powerless, and it was my weak attempt at shutting down and protecting myself.
