Page 50 of Trade It All

Mark hangs back just enough as we step out, his attention shifting back to me once Maddie gets a few steps ahead, far enough that she won’t catch what’s coming next. “You know who did it?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out tight.

“Is he still breathing?” There’s a hint of something lighter in his tone, like he’s trying to pass it off as a joke.

“Yes.” The word grinds out of me, harder this time. Because I told her I wouldn’t touch it. Because every part of me still wants to.

“Will you take care of it?” I don’t answer out loud. I don’t need to. I turn toward him just enough, meeting his eyes, and nod once. That’s all it takes. Then I’m moving again, closing the distance between me and Maddie, catching up to her before she can get too far ahead.

She doesn’t slow down when I reach her. Doesn’t look at me. Still holding onto that frustration. That’s fine. I open her door anyway. Guide her in. And when I lean over to buckle her in—I don’t miss the way her breath shifts. Even if she’s stillmad at me.

She’s quiet the entire drive. Not the kind of quiet that settles easy. Not the kind that comes with comfort and music and everything sitting right where it should. This one has edges to it, something she’s holding onto instead of letting out, and I feel it every second she doesn’t speak. I let it go for a while. Give her space to work through it the way she needs to. But when we’re halfway across the city and she still hasn’t said more than a couple words, I know I need to step in before she builds it into something bigger than it has to be. I exhale, dragging a hand down my jaw before I glance over at her.

“I’m sorry.” The words sit between us for a second before she turns toward me, her brows pulling together like she didn’t expect that to come out of my mouth.

“You’re apologizing?” There’s surprise in it. Real surprise.

“Yeah,” I answer, not hesitating. “I fucked up.” I lift a finger slightly before she can take it the wrong way. “Not sorry we went to see him,” I add, steady, because that part doesn’t change. “We needed to. But I should’ve told you ahead of time. You deserved that.”

She studies me for a second, something shifting behind her eyes before she looks away again, her attention drifting back out the window. “Yeah,” she says after a beat. “I could’ve stopped and grabbed concealer or something. Covered it better.”

My grip tightens on the wheel before I can stop it. I don’t say anything right away. Because I hate that. Hate that her firstinstinct is to hide it. To cover something that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. That she’s thinking about how it looks instead of the fact that it happened. Every part of me wants to shut that down. Tell her she doesn’t have to hide a damn thing. Tell her she can stay with me until it fades, until there’s nothing left for anyone to question. But I don’t. Because her job matters. I’ve seen it. The way she moves through it. The way she handles everything thrown at her without missing a step. The way the guys trust her without even realizing it.

I wasn’t exaggerating earlier. She’s fucking phenomenal at it. And I’m not taking that from her just because I want her close where I can see her.

“I think I should stay at Addy’s.” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, softer than before, but there’s something set in it, something she’s been working toward saying since we left Mark’s. I don’t answer right away. I wait. Let her finish. “People are going to start noticing if they see me coming and going from your place,” she continues, glancing at me now, like she’s checking to see if I’m going to push back immediately. “And we both want to win these next home games. Our routines matter.”

I huff out a quiet breath, my jaw tightening again, not at her—at the situation. At the fact that she’s right. At the fact that I don’t like it anyway. Another reason to call Coleman. The thought hits fast, settling in like something already decided.

“I’m not going two weeks without seeing you,” I tell her, my tone steady but leaving no room for that to be an option. “Not happening.” I glance at her briefly before shifting my attention back to the road. “You’re going to have to meet me halfway or something, Baby.”

She exhales softly, shaking her head just slightly. “We can spend time together,” she says. “I’m just not staying with you.”

I nod once. That, I can work with. It’s not what I want. But it’s not her pulling away either. Before I can say anything else, before we can figure out what halfway actually looks like, the building comes into view. Tyler’s place. My grip tightens again without permission, the familiar red edge pushing back up under my skin as I pull in, cutting the engine faster than I need to. She’s already reaching for the door handle. I’m out before she can touch it. The door slams behind me, my steps quick as I round the front of the truck, my focus locking onto her car immediately—and then stopping.

There’s something on the windshield. A piece of paper tucked under the wiper. I reach it before she does, pulling it free without thinking, my jaw tightening as I glance down at it.

Whatever this is—I already know I’m not going to like it.

Chapter 23

Maddie

I’moutofthetruck before he can say a word. I don’t think about it. I don’t wait for him to tell me to stay or to let him handle it or to give me that look he’s been giving me all day when he thinks I need protecting more than answers. I just move. By the time he turns, I’m already beside him, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand is clenched tight around the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him from doing something else.

I reach for it. He pulls it back. Not rough. Not fast. Just enough to keep it out of my grasp. And something in me steadies instead of backing down.

“I’ve learned today that I really like when you’re that protective, controlled guy,” I say, keeping my voice even, not rising to match the tension sitting in him, even though I feel it pressing into me. “But I’m not letting you keep things from me.”

I hold my hand out again. Not asking this time.Waiting. He looks at me for a second, something flickering behind his eyes, something caught between instinct and restraint. I can see it—the part of him that wants to handle this for me, to decide what I do and don’t need to see. And then he exhales. The tension doesn’t disappear, but it shifts, settles into something he can control.

He places the paper in my hand. Reluctant. But he does it. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth like he needs something lighter to cut through everything else sitting between us.

“You really like me controlling you, Baby?” His hand lifts like he’s going to touch my cheek, like he’s forgotten where we are for a second, and then he catches himself just as fast, dropping it back to his side like the reminder hits all at once. I roll my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

I unfold the paper. And the second I see the handwriting—everything in me tightens.

Tyler's. My fingers still slightly as I read.