“I love you, too, Ollie.”
Addison doesn’t need neat. Or perfect. She needs honesty. She needs to know this is real to me, and always has been. She needs to know I love her and that none of this means a bloody thing if she’s not beside me.
And I want her beside me. Every day. For the rest of my life.
I head out the door quickly, because I can’t lose a second of time.
I’m in love with her. And I’m not letting her leave without knowing that.
46
straight red
THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED BY TAYLOR SWIFT
The training facility is quiet. The only sound is the echo of my heels in the empty hallway as I head out from my office. I stopped in on the way to the awards party to drop off some paperwork to Alan.
I turn the corner as I step out of the elevator, and waiting in the lobby is Matt.
Why is he here?
Why is healwayshere?
He’s dressed for the awards dinner in a dark suit, blacker than his soul, if he even has one. He straightens when he sees me, eyes dragging over my dress, and I immediately wish I could melt into the floor and disappear.
“Well, damn,” he says, soft and smug. “You look beautiful.”
I try to step past him. “I’m running late.”
He steps sideways, blocking me without even looking like he’s trying.
“Addison, come on. The season’s practically over. You’ve made your point, haven’t you? It’s time to stop playing games.”
I stiffen. “This was never a game, Matt.”
“Sure,” he says, like he doesn’t believe me. “You proved whatever you felt like you needed to prove, Addison.” He gestures vaguely toward the hallway leading to the locker room. “You worked. You survived without me. Gold star.”
“Survived?” I scoff. “I succeeded.”
I start to move past him again, but he steps in front of me and lowers his voice.
“Come home, Addison.”
“What?”
“I’ll be better this time. I will.” His eyes flick to my dress again, and he can’t even hide the possessive hunger showing in his expression. “You’re mine. We’re good together. No one knows you like I do.”
“You don’t know me at all,” I say, laughing bitterly.
“Yes, I do,” he insists, a flash of annoyance curling at the edge of his mouth.
“No.” I shake my head slowly, letting the word sink in, because he’s not used to hearing it. “You used to know me. You knew the girl who was afraid, who kept her head down and made herself small for your sake. Look at me,” I say, stretching my arms wide open, letting the space around me fill with my presence. “She’s not here anymore.”
He stares at me, and his expression hardens. He doesn’t like this version of me—the one who sees him clearly and isn’t afraid to say it.
“Addison, please.” His voice is low as his hand closes around my arm. It’s not tight, but it’s firm enough to stop me from moving. Firm enough to make my blood run cold for just a second, until I remember I’m not the girl who used to shrink under that touch.
I snap.
