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“I’m well aware of that. But I can’t help feeling guilty for hurting you. There isn’t anything you can say to me that I haven’t already said to myself.”
He looks me over, eyes harsh, betrayal burning bright. My chest pangs.
“I need you to answer one of my questions right now, away from everyone else. No bullshit, only the fucking truth. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Did you plan on this? Was there anything going on between the two of you before you left?”
My throat threatens to close at the hurt in his words. I did that, and I’m not sure how long it will take to fix the damage I’ve done, but I’ll keep at it until I have.
“No. You should know that already. Everything that happened between us . . . it’s new.Reallynew,” I answer on a long exhale.
He nods once, stiffly. “I just had to ask. Braxton told me I was an idiot to think otherwise, but it’s hard not to go there.”
“Where is she, anyway?”
A flicker of warmth in that cold stare. “At the house. Liam caught a bit of a bug recently.”
They always come back to their second home in Vancouver for a few weeks after hockey season ends, needing to be around family again instead of staying in Ontario the entire postseason. I’m grateful for it. I miss them when they’re gone.
“Does she want to punch me too?”
“No. The minute she hears about what I did to you, she’s going to kick me to the couch for a week.”
“I’ll tell her to go easy on you,” I offer.
He scowls, mentally shoving a wall between us. “Don’t. I don’t want to owe you anything right now.”
“You wouldn’t owe me anything. Fuck’s sake, Maddox. You’re my best friend.”
“Apparently, that doesn’t mean much when it comes to sneaking around behind my back with my sister.”
I pinch the skin between my brows, struggling with how to go about this. He doesn’t—andwon’t—know what has completely happened between Adalyn and me, but it seems he’s already come to his own conclusions. Until we sit down together, there are going to be a thousand unanswered questions and assumptions.
“Can we just go hash this out with everyone right now? There’s no point in trying to work it all out in private like this,” I suggest.
“Lead the way.”
“Great,” I mutter.
We reach the dining table at the same time there’s a knock on the front door. Confused, I look at Adalyn, finding her already watching me. Her smile is sympathetic.
“It’s open!” Ava calls.
A tired groan escapes me when my dad walks in, waving casually at us. “Who invited him?” I ask the table.
It’s Ava who says, “Me. He should be a part of this conversation.”
“You just want to even the scale, sweetheart,” Oakley mutters.
She tries and fails to hide a smirk. “Me?”
Her husband shakes his head but strokes her hand where it rests on the table.
“There’s my boy!” Dad shouts, pulling me in for a tight hug.
“Hey, Dad.”
