The Darkest Corner of the Heart: Chapter 22

I give up. I surrender.

There’s no point in lying to myself anymore. Not when I always ignore the warning flags waving in front of me, anyway.

I can’t stay away from Maddie. I don’t want to.

Every day I crave seeing her beautiful, attentive eyes and that smile that could light up a whole room just by her walking in. I long for her fiery personality, and I wish to crush all her demons so she can shine brighter.

Maybe I’m sick in the head. I haven’t ruled that out completely. She’s still twenty-one, and I’m not a day younger than thirty-one, which isn’t the closest of age gaps.

And despite it all, I can’t keep pretending that my soul doesn’t call to hers.

As I wait for her to come out of her building at nine in the morning on a Sunday, I know I can’t act on my feelings. She’s still figuring out what she wants to do with her career, and I don’t want to interfere. She’s young, and I refuse to hold her back if she decides her future isn’t in Norcastle anymore.

Wherever these feelings came from, they will leave just as easily. After all, I’m not built for healthy relationships.

I hear a light tap on the passenger window, and I snap out of my thoughts to see that sweet face I’ve missed way too much.

It’s only been a day.

I unlock the door, and she climbs in, not looking like her ankle is giving her much trouble. “Good morning.” Her smile doesn’t waver as she straps herself in, and it’s the most genuinely happy I’ve seen her in weeks. “Phew, it’s cold.”

“Morning.” I turn on the heater and pull out of my parking spot. “It’ll be even colder in the mountains. Did you bring water and food?”

“Yes and yes,” she says. “I might not be an expert hiker like you, but I have Google.”

Right. I forgot I included hiking as one of my hobbies in that damn dating app. Well, I didn’t, although that fact is still true. Fucking Graham.

“How often do you go on hikes?” she asks with a genuine interest that I find adorable.

“Every few weeks, I reckon. I try going at least twice a month.”

She lets out a low whistle. “You weren’t joking when you said you liked hiking.”

“Have you ever gone on one?”

“Last year I went with my friends from college. Clark Hills, just an hour away. Are you familiar with the trail?”

I nod. “Walked it three times. We’re not going there today.”

“Oh?” She looks at me with interest shining in her eyes. “Where are we going?”

I smirk, pulling onto the highway. “It’s a surprise.”

“You’re going to kidnap me, aren’t you?”

“You caught me. You make too good of a parmesan sauce. I can’t just let you run free like that.”

Her laugh lights up something dormant within me. It opens a curious eye, then another, and blinks.

No. Stop.

The ride to the trail lasts forty minutes, during which we make casual talk that isn’t at all uncomfortable and she sings along to some of the songs on the radio. Being with her is dangerously addictive, and even though it’s hardly begun, I don’t want this day to end.

Since it’s early on a Sunday morning, there’s no traffic, and we arrive at the trail when no other cars are in the parking lot.

Maddie looks out of the window, eyes full of wonder as she takes in the endless sea of green and blue. “Wow,” she breathes out.

Wow, indeed, I think as I look at her.

“We’re really going to reach the lake?” she asks.

“Sure thing. It’s only a couple of miles away and it’s mostly flat, so your ankle should be fine.” I kill the engine and take my jacket and backpack from the back seat. “Shall we?”

The deserted trail threads to the leaf-covered forest, and Maddie marvels at every cloud and tree as we start our hike. Our boots meet the rain-quenched path, and for the first time in too long, I breathe easily.

I’ve gone on this hike once before, years ago, but I’d forgotten how stunning the scenery is. Too bad I can’t take my eyes away from the girl beside me.

“Oh, look!” Maddie points at a nearby tree. “That’s a black-capped chickadee,” she beams, stopping near its trunk.

“A what now?”

She uses her hand to block the faint sunlight filtering through the treetops. “A bird. See it?” She points again, and I squint my eyes, following the direction of her finger. “It’s a small one. It has a black-and-white head, and the rest of its body is mostly gray.”

A chirping sound reaches us just as my eyes land on the little thing. “I see it.”

“It’s so cute.” She smiles up at the bird as if it could see her, as if it could appreciate her softness the way I’m doing right now. Unlucky bird.

We keep following the trail in silence, not wanting to disturb the sounds of nature around us and only stopping once to drink some water. I ask about her ankle at some point, and she tells me it’s not bothering her.

As we walk, it dawns on me that I haven’t been outside like this in a really long time—probably since my friends dragged me on a trip to the lake earlier this year. But it’s been months. Maybe I should consider driving up to Bannport, Maine, for the weekend. It’s not too far, and getting out of the city by myself would be good for me. Shadow and Mist don’t mind the car, so they could tag along.

The thought of inviting my parents crosses my mind for two seconds before I let go of the idea as if it were on fire. I love my folks, and I try to visit them as often as I can, but I can’t spend a whole weekend with them. I can’t, not when they’ll use our time together to bring up my brother, and that’s where I draw the line. They mean well, I know that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I can hear you brooding all the way from here,” Maddie says, the faintest smile grazing her lips.

She’s only a few steps ahead, and I catch up with her in two long strides. “I wasn’t brooding.”

She clicks her tongue. “Don’t lie to me, you grouch.”

I come to a halt. “What did you just call me?”

Mischief shines in her hazel eyes. “What has your head all tangled up?” she asks, ignoring my question.

“It’s nothing.”

“Pants on fire.”

“I’m not lying.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Fine, don’t tell me.” And with that, she gives me a nonchalant shrug, turns around, and resumes her walk.

I catch up to her, this weird sensation in my chest feeling a lot like guilt. “Fine,” I concede. “Maybe I had something on my mind.”

She shrugs once more, enhancing that uncomfortable sensation. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to tell me.” She slides a quick glance my way. “I understand if you want to keep things to yourself. You don’t even know me that well.”

I wrap my hand around her forearm to stop her, but I don’t hold her tightly enough to hurt her. “That’s not true,” I say, honesty lacing every word. “We are friends.”

“Are we really?”

I hate that her words feel like a punch in the gut, and I hate that I don’t know how to answer straight away.

Are we friends?

Yes, but also no.

I don’t want to throw my friends over my shoulder, pin them against the nearest tree trunk, and make them come with my fingers inside their tight heat.

So maybe what I feel for Maddie isn’t a friendship in the most traditional sense of the word; maybe not at all.

All I know is that thinking about not seeing her ever again makes me sick. It makes me want to tear the world apart until I find her again, and I don’t know what label that puts on us.

But those feelings are too confusing, too scary to put into words, so I simply say what feels true to my heart. “Yes, Maddie. We are friends.” I don’t let go of her forearm, and she doesn’t pull away. “I was thinking about family stuff I have going on.”

There. She wanted me to talk, to open up? I don’t feel the usual discomfort, but maybe it’s because, in the grand scheme of things, I haven’t told her anything.

Her features soften all the same, understanding passing between those eyes I could get lost in if I let go of the thin rope holding my sanity together. She gives me a small nod. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” The birds chirp around us, and the wind picks up as the morning passes us by. “But there’s no use in worrying about that right now, is there? You can’t fix it at this very moment.”

I swallow because I can. “Right.”

She presses her lips together, as if she wanted to say something but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. The somber look on her face disappears just like that, her lips morphing into a smile that could blind the sun above us, and I feel my mood shifting with it. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

She surprises me by releasing herself from my grip and grabbing my arm instead, tugging me along the trail. “You’re going to help me find a bird. The first one to spot it, wins.”

“I know nothing about birds,” I say, but I feel my cheek twitching with the beginning of a smile. This girl.

“You have eyes. That’ll do.”

I know she’s trying to distract me, but I still say, “Fine,” because I’m beginning to think I can’t say no to her. That worries me way less than it should. “What bird are we looking for?”

“A red-winged blackbird. It’s all black with a red spot on each of its wings—you can’t miss it.” She eyes me over her shoulder, my arm still clutched in her small hand. “If you lose, I want to stop for donuts on the way back. Your treat.”

My lips twitch. “And if I win?”

“If you win, we can do whatever you want.”

A fleeting image of Maddie pressed between my hard body and a tree trunk assaults my head. “I’ll think about it,” I opt for, sounding calm but internally losing my goddamn mind.

“Okay. It’s not like you will win, anyway.”

The image in my mind morphs into one of Maddie being thrown over my lap, my hand spanking that round ass I’ve looked at more times than I can count since we arrived.

“Like I said, brat,” I mutter under my breath, but not quietly enough that she doesn’t hear it.

I feel the loss of her warmth as she releases my arm, only to cross her own over her chest. “Prove me wrong, then, Doc.”

That word snaps something inside of me, something forbidden and untamed. Before I know what the fuck I’m doing, I wrap my hand around her high ponytail and pull at it softly.

My mouth lowers to her ear, her heavy breathing reaching my own, and I mutter, “I’m not your doctor anymore, Maddie.”

Her hand reaches up until it covers mine, still wrapped around her hair. And then she does something I would’ve never, ever in my most insane fantasies expected.

Instead of peeling my fingers away, she squeezes my knuckles, as if she wants me to pull harder.

Does she like this?

My head goes on overdrive with the possibility. Just to test the waters, just to see if I’ve read her all wrong, I pull on her ponytail a little tighter. A small gasp leaves her lips, and the pink shade of her cheeks tells me all I need to know.

“You’re not?” she asks, trying to sound casual, but the breathiness in her voice gives her nerves away.

It’s so fucking sexy and adorable, I lose the grip on my self-control a little more.

My lips graze the shell of her ear when I speak next, making her shiver. “I don’t make a habit of hiking with my patients, no.”

“And do you usually pull their hair?” she asks next, gaining that brazen confidence I knew she had in her.

There’s my little firecracker.

“Only when they’re being bratty, which hasn’t happened until now. So, no.”

I release my grip on her hair, and her hand lets go of mine. “So, that bird,” I prompt, trying to bring back a sense of normalcy between us. And between me and my cock.

Twenty minutes later, Maddie ends up spotting the so-called red-winged blackbird first, which means I owe her donuts on our way back. She squeals excitedly at the prospect of getting her sweet treats after a tiring day, unaware of the fact that I would’ve bought her those donuts anyway.

We reach the lake by noon and sit on a dry patch of grass near the edge to eat our sandwiches. At one point, I ask her how she knows so much about birds, which makes her laugh. “One of my grandfathers taught me all about them. We would go birdwatching together when I was a kid,” she explains.

“Are you close to your grandparents?”

“Grandfathers,” she corrects, a soft smile on her lips. “I only have grandpas, not grandmas. And they’re married to each other.”

It takes a second until it dawns on me. “Wait. Your grandfathers are together? As in—”

“As in they’re gay, yes.” She smirks.

“That’s cool.”

“They live in Canada, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but they’re amazing.” She swallows the last bite of her sandwich, and I follow the movement down her slender throat. “They’re Grace’s dads—she’s adopted. I’m technically not their granddaughter because Grace isn’t my mother, but who cares. Blood doesn’t make a family.”

I shift on the grass, the uncomfortable feeling at the pit of my stomach not unfamiliar to me. “You don’t say,” I mutter under my breath.

She catches it. Of course she does. “What do you mean?”

Yes, James, what do you mean?

She must have an idea, seeing how I brought up my family earlier, but she doesn’t press. She simply looks at me with an open expression that holds no judgment. She just wants to…listen.

And for the first time, I want to talk.

“I have an older brother. We aren’t on speaking terms.”

And it doesn’t exactly help that my parents keep insisting I should make an effort, that family should forgive each other. They know there’s no point, but that doesn’t stop them.

After twelve years, they know I haven’t forgotten, and I most certainly don’t fucking forgive. Not for the things he did to me.

“Can I ask why you don’t get along?”

I give her an apologetic smile. “You can, but I’m not going to answer.”

She blinks at my unexpected answer then throws her head back and laughs in that carefree way of hers. “Fair enough. Thank you for telling me about him.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

She shrugs, looking away. Her fingers slip through the green grass, caressing it softly. “I like knowing things about you is all. So, thank you for sharing what you can with me.”

My stomach drops.

She likes knowing things about me. She likes it when I talk about myself. And, so far, she hasn’t asked me about the NFL dream I failed to reach. It’s like that part of my past doesn’t exist to her, and for that I’m grateful.

Forget about the tree trunk—I want to tackle her to the ground, right where she’s sitting, and kiss her until I run out of oxygen.

“I like knowing things about you too,” I say honestly. “You’re full of surprises.”

She snorts. “I guess learning about my dad was one of those, right?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it.”

Her shoulders rise and fall as her delicate fingers continue playing with the strands of grass between us. “I talked to my brother yesterday. He suggested I go back to Warlington for a while.”

My breathing stops. Warlington. That’s also on the East Coast, but hours away. An eternity away.

“And what did you tell him?” I manage to ask casually, as if my whole body isn’t on edge right now.

The thought of Maddie moving away when we’ve finally seemed to cross an invisible line I can’t define but is really, really comfortable, makes my stomach roll with unease. I haven’t known her for long, but I haven’t felt this free, this relaxed with anyone since college.

No, scratch that—since ever.

Someone I can share my time with, knowing she isn’t seeking anything in return. No hidden agendas. Someone I can talk to, trusting that she won’t force me to reveal the memories that still hurt too much to say out loud.

Being with Maddie feels right and wrong at the same time. Allowing myself to get close to her feels like the best and the worst decision I’ve ever made.

“I told him I wasn’t going to let my father control my life,” she answers with a definitive resolution in her voice I can’t help but admire. For someone who’s been through so much, she stands taller than most people would. “I want to stay in Norcastle. My life is here.”

I should feel relieved—and I do—but the fact that her brother suggested she move back with him makes a silent alarm go off in my head. “Do you feel unsafe here? Because of your dad?” I ask carefully. Without knowing the answer, I already regret not beating up the motherfucker when I had the chance.

“Not exactly.” She brings her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. Her eyes find mine. “My dad is all bark, no bite. I know I’m safe here.”

“You are.” I hope she understands the meaning behind the hidden words I’m too scared to say out loud. That’s she’ll always be safe as long as I’m here. “But I want to know how you’re feeling.”

“I’m…” She frowns, as if she hadn’t stopped to think about how seeing her father made her feel. A deep breath later, she continues. “I’m mostly shocked. He left when I was four, and I really thought I’d never see him again. I… I didn’t know he had contacted my brother again and asked to see me.”

“Your brother didn’t tell you that.” It’s not a question, and I can say I understand why he made that choice.

“I’ve always assumed he never reached out again. That he moved on with his life… Or that he was dead. I didn’t know for sure.”

“Are you angry with your brother for keeping it from you?”

It takes her a moment to answer. “No. I don’t blame him for wanting to keep me away from him,” she explains. “My father isn’t a reliable man, and my brother was just protecting me. Pete would’ve left a second time—I know it deep in my soul. I get why my brother did it, and I’m not angry with him.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Maddie.” On the other side of the lake, a small group of people have gathered to have lunch. Their voices don’t reach our small bubble I never want to burst. “Not everyone would see it like that.”

“It’s just… What’s the point?” She lets out a long sigh. “I wouldn’t have wanted to see my father anyway, so Sammy did the right thing. I don’t want to see Pete now or ever again. I don’t want to have any kind of relationship with him. He made his intentions crystal clear when he left seventeen years ago. Pete Stevens isn’t and will never be a good man.”

Pete Stevens.

That name will remain engraved in my brain until I make him pay for everything he’s put Maddie through. I’m not above violence in this particular case.

We stay silent for a while, letting the birds and the sounds of the lake talk for us. The wind has picked up in the past couple of hours, and it’s getting colder, but at least the sky is clear. I’ve gone on hikes with rain pouring down on me, and it’s not fun.

I’m about to suggest we start our way back to my car when an alarming thought crosses my mind at high speed. It comes out of nowhere, and I can’t shake it off.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. It consumes me, boils me from the inside, and I know I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I don’t get an answer.

Her eyes are lost on the lake.

“Maddie,” I start, grabbing her attention. She turns her head with a hint of a smile I know my next words will vanish. “Can I ask you something about your father?”

Just like I feared, her smile falls. Not by much, and maybe not noticeably for the normal eye, but I’ve been at the receiving end of those smiles enough times to recognize this isn’t a happy one. “Sure.”

She doesn’t sound too put off by my request, but I still feel the need to add, “It’s not an easy question.”

“It’s fine.”

“You said you had some records of child neglect and emotional abuse against him.” Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. When she nods, I ask, “Was your dad ever abusive to you in other ways?”

She sobers up. “What do you mean?”

“Did he ever put his hands on you?”

If she says yes, that motherfucker won’t live to see another day. I’ll buy her donuts, drop her home, and look for Pete Stevens until I find him. And then I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

Luckily for everyone involved, she says, “No.”

“You can tell me if he did. I would never judge you or blame you for it,” I insist.

“I know you wouldn’t.” A pause. “I trust you, James. I do, and I would tell you if he had been abusive, but he wasn’t. He only yelled at me and shrugged me off sometimes, but he never went far. My brother would’ve killed him.”

Her brother and I see eye to eye, it seems.

A relieved sigh escapes me, and the tension in my shoulders disappears. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I can’t stand…” Don’t say it. “Forget it.”

The last thing she needs to be aware of is this weird protectiveness I feel for her.

“You can’t stand what?” She nudges my knee with hers.

I don’t remember her getting this close. We’re sitting right next to each other on the grass, our arms almost touching, and I resist the urge to pull her into my lap and hold her there until I make sure she really is okay.

Now isn’t the time. It will never be.

“It’s not important.”

“James,” she sing-songs.

I rub my jaw with the palm of my hand, hiding the small smile she always seems to be pulling from me. “You always have to get what you want, don’t you?”

Unlike me, she doesn’t veil the amusement in her voice. “Come on, big guy, just tell me.”

Big guy. I should have more restraint than this, but damn it—it’s her. She makes me want to open up in ways I haven’t since my injury. Since ever.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I give in.

She wanted the truth? Here it is.

“I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, Maddie. In any way, present or past. It makes me want to hurt whoever hurt you. Badly. Repeatedly.”

She says nothing, and I’m afraid I’ve gone too far.

Who even says shit like that? To a twenty-one-year-old who, just two days ago, was my patient.

I’m sick in the head. There’s no other—

Maddie throws her arms around my neck, almost tackling me to the ground. Instinctively, one of my arms wraps around her middle, pulling her closer until she’s halfway on my lap.

She’s hugging me.

Not slapping me or calling me insane but hugging me.

It ends too soon, and before I can even fully bask in her warmth, she pulls away and squats next to me so we are at eye level.

“How are you real?” she asks, out of breath, and I don’t answer because I don’t know what she means. If anything, she’s the unreal one between us. “Thank you for always listening to me.”

I’m taken aback, and the only thing I can think of saying is, “Sorry for pulling at your ponytail earlier.”

She sits on the grass again. “Don’t worry. I liked it.”

I stop breathing.

She stops smiling.

“I mean…” She clears her throat, heat rising up her cheeks. I’m lucky my stubble covers mine, because I’m sure they are just as red. “I enjoy teasing you and all that. Being playful. It’s lighthearted fun. I like it.”

There’s nothing playful or lighthearted about what I want to do to you, baby.

“I thought I’d freaked you out,” I admit.

“You could never.” I can hear the truth in her words, and it calms my heart. Then, she reaches out her finger until she’s poking my cheek. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

I am, and we both know it.

Her smirk is nothing short of mischievous. “I’ve caught you blushing a few times, you know?” she confesses, shattering all illusions that my cold mask is impenetrable. “For all that grouchy and intimidating exterior, you’re actually pretty cute.”

Cute. Something not entirely uncomfortable turns inside my stomach.

“Nobody has ever called me cute before,” I admit out loud, not sure why I decided that this level of vulnerability was a good idea.

Because it’s her.

“Well, you are. The cutest grump I’ve ever met.” That smile, paired with the playful glint in her eyes, is my undoing. “Should we start making our way back? I don’t want to be a party pooper, but I need those donuts.”

I chuckle, getting up in one easy move and helping her to her feet.

It never fails to surprise me how straightforward she is, how she’s never afraid to ask for what she wants, when she wants it. Or how she teases me without shame, and I’m happily powerless against it.

She might think she missed out by growing up without her parents, but the fact that she’s become such an incredible, fiery, compassionate woman shows how strong she is, inside and out.

I don’t think I’ve ever admired someone this damn much.