Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“This whole fight is ridiculous,” he says.
His warm breath sends a cascade of goose bumps down my back.
I try to wriggle free of his grip. “You’re the one who started it. Couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut at dinner?”
“And let you talk about Nate as if there’s any possibility that you actually have feelings for him?”
“I might!” I insist defiantly.
“Maddie.”
It sounds like it pains him to speak my name.
He drops the snowball on the ground and it crumbles at my feet.
I think he’ll let me go too, but he doesn’t.
He tightens both arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.
“Please.”
The word squeezes my heart, and I pinch my eyes closed.
“Let me try to fix this.”
Chapter Nineteen
Aiden
I hold Maddie tight against me, perfectly still as it starts to snow.
I can’t even feel the cold, not with my heart beating a mile a minute, but Maddie is far less clothed than I am and I worry she’ll start to feel the effects of being out here too long if I don’t get us home quickly.
I need to get her out of the elements. She doesn’t even have a jacket on; I slip mine off and wrap it around her shoulders. For an instant, I worry she’ll refuse it, but instead, she tightens it around herself as I start to lead her back to the house.
“This isn’t surrender,” she says, maintaining her hard facade as she lets me take her hand and cross the street.
It’s a short trek home, only a few more yards and we’re at the door of the house. A quick look at the driveway confirms James and Jolie aren’t home yet. No doubt they’re picking up the pieces at the restaurant. I don’t even want to think about what I’ll say to them when they get home.
With my spare key, I unlock the door and let us into the house. I don’t drop hold of Maddie’s hand even when we’re in the foyer.
“My shoes,” she says, tugging me back.
I glance down to see her feet are covered in wet soggy snow.
I bend down to help her slip off her heels before kicking my boots off as well. Her skin is frozen over. She’s more icicle than person at this point, so without a word, I stand and push her in the direction of our shared bathroom.
She lets me lead her, but I get the impression that at any moment, she’ll gather her strength again. I’m sitting in the eye of the storm, and I’d be wise to remember that.
The shower isn’t nearly big enough for the both of us. She needs the hot water more than I do, so I turn the faucet on then turn back to see her looking at me with guarded eyes.
The fight hasn’t completely burned off yet.
She’s gripping those last vestiges of anger with both hands.
“Turn around and I’ll unzip you,” I say, twisting my finger in a circle so she gets the idea.
“I can do it myself. I zipped myself into this dress—I can get myself out of it.”
She lets go of my jacket and folds it before setting it on the bathroom counter.
I wasn’t sure of my plan when I led her in here, but suddenly, I don’t so much care how small the shower is. I reach for the hem of my shirt and yank it off in one smooth motion.
Maddie’s mouth hangs open.
“I thought you could undress by yourself,” I taunt.
Her eyes narrow.
“I can…when you leave.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I need a warm shower. So do you. Two birds, one stone.”
She huffs. “If you think I’m going to get in that shower with you, you’ve completely lost your mind. What part of tonight is lost on you? How many times do I have to throw a snowball at your face before—”
Her words are cut off as I haul her up off the ground and carry her into the shower, clothes and all.
She sputters as water pours over her. I put her down right under the stream and yank the glass door closed behind us. If I had a lock, I’d use it.
As it is, I position myself so she’ll have to go through me if she wants to flee.
“My dress!” she groans, looking down at the red silky fabric now pasted to her skin.
“Should have taken it off,” I reply without an ounce of remorse.
Her eyes flare up to meet mine. They’re narrowed into little slits as she steps toward me. She holds up her hands, fisting them into tight balls. I think if I had my shirt on, she’d grab me by the collar and twist.
“Let me out,” she demands.
“No.”
Her fists pound against my chest. “Let me out!”
“No.”
Her anger morphs as I watch, breaking down, dissolving, splintering into parts visible in her anguished expression: sadness, annoyance, fear.
When she speaks again, it’s with a half-concealed sob. “Let me out, Aiden.”