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It had been two years, and I hadn't heard a single word from her, and now she was back because she wanted an interview.
Fuck that, and fuck her.
I couldn't go down that road with her again. I couldn't even go near that road; it hurt too much. I'd kept my promise. If she walked away, I wouldn't chase her even though every ounce of my being wanted to. Even two years later, there wasn't a day that passed that I didn't think about calling her. I'd even caved a few times and Googled her. Maybe it was more than a few times. Maybe it was closer to an embarrassing amount of times.
Growing up, she'd never had much to do with social media, but now she had a massive following through her sports gossip girl column, written for women by a woman covering all the sports-related gossip, which mainly consisted of the hottest players with the hottest dirt.
Even though I watched a few of her live videos to hear her voice and see her pretty face, I wanted nothing to do with that column. I'd already had my fair share of scandals in my two short years in the NFL, and my reputation was still recovering. The media and I weren't friends, nor were Addison and me.
Starting the truck, I pulled away. I had zero intention of doing an interview for her. In fact, it was in my best interest never to see or speak to her again. I wasn't sure if my heart could take another round with her. I wasn't sure if I could be that close to her and not kiss her.
Fuck, I needed a drink. It had been a shitty day that only got worse when I walked out of that stadium, and my eyes landed on the lead actress in all my dreams.
I found the first bar and hunkered down, carefully concealing my identity the best I could.
Three hours later, I was halfway to trashed. I hadn't been this drunk in public in over a year, and I'd swore I'd never do it again after the press published pictures of me in a compromising position with Elle Davidson in the public bathroom of a popular nightclub. I didn't make the best decisions when alcohol clouded my judgment.
Pulling my hood over my ball cap, I tried to keep my identity concealed before ordering another round.
"Hey baby," a short blonde smiled flirtatiously. I could take her home. I could fuck her. Who was I kidding? I could fuck every girl in here, and it wouldn't change the fact that I was still in love with Addison. Fuck.
"Not tonight." I scowled, turning my back to her.
"Your loss, baby," she purred, and I rolled my eyes.
I'd sworn to Addison I would move on with my life if she left, but I couldn't, even though I'd tried.
Pulling out my phone, I dug through my pocket, found Addison's business card, and punched her number into my messages.
Maddox: You have some nerve showing up after all these years and asking for an interview.
I stared at the phone for several long minutes before the bubble popped up, insinuating that she was responding.
Addison:I know. I'm sorry. I completely understand if you don't want to do the interview.
Anger ripped through me. She didn't get to be understanding. I punched the call button and pulled the phone to my ear.
"Hello," her soft voice sounded through the speaker, and I closed my eyes as my chest tightened. That voice had haunted my dreams for the last two years.
"Why now, Addison?" I slurred, my tone filled with anger.
"Maddox," she questioned. "Are you drunk?"
"Trashed," I answered.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Don't act like you care now," I muttered.
"Maddox, is there someone with you that can get you home quietly and safely?" she asked.
"I'm not your problem anymore, Addison," I slurred. "I'll do the interview." I paused, trying to stop myself, but I couldn't. "For anyone but you." I disconnected and shoved my phone in my pocket before ordering another round.
SIXTY-THREE
ADDISON
My phone rang, and I quickly clicked the green answer button, thinking it was Maddox again.
