Page 72 of Trade It All

I don’t argue. Because she’s not wrong. Because I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time anymore. My fingers curl slightly around my drink, the glass cool in my hand as I take a small sip, letting the noise of the room settle around me again. Luka is across the room, already pulling Paxton into another conversation, his arm slung over his shoulder like he’s claiming him for the night. Jake is near the back, Matty in his arms again, the little boy more awake now, his small hands grabbing at Jake’s shirt while Penelope stands close, her hand resting lightly on his back. It’s loud. Full. Alive. And I feel it—that pull again. My eyes drift back to Dean before I can stop them.

Like something in me is tied to him now in a way that doesn’t let me stay focused anywhere else for too long. My chest tightens again, this time sharper, something building behind my ribs that I’ve been holding in all day, pushing down, telling myself I’d deal with it later. Except now—later is here. And I can’t hold it anymore.

“Addy…” My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to, my fingers curling around the edge of the table beside me like I need something steady to hold onto.

She looks at me immediately. Really looks this time. “What?” she asks, her tone shifting, softer now, more focused.

I hesitate. Just for a second. Because I know what I’m about to say changes things. Makes it real in a way that keeping it to myself didn’t.

“You have to promise me something first,” I say, turning toward her fully now, my voice dropping even lower.

Her brows pull together slightly. “Maddie…”

“Addy, please,” I press, my hand coming up to wrap around her wrist, holding her there, making sure she understands I mean it. “You cannot say anything. To anyone. Not even Luka.”

That gets her attention. Really gets it. Her expression shifts, something serious settling in as she studies my face like she’s trying to figure out just how big this is before she answers.

“I won’t,” she says finally. “I promise.”

I swallow, my heart picking up, my gaze dropping for half a second before I force it back up to hers. “He… said it.”

Her brows crease. “Said what?”

My breath catches. “Dean told me he loves me.”

The words leave me in a rush, like I’ve been holding them in too long and they finally found a way out. For a second—she just stares at me. Like she’s making sure she heard me right.

And then her entire face lights up. “Maddie—”

“Shh,” I cut her off quickly, my hand tightening slightly on her arm, panic flickering because we are not being quiet right now.

Her eyes widen, and she immediately clamps her mouth shut, but the excitement is still there, practically vibrating under the surface.

“You love him,” she whispers instead, leaning closer so no one else hears. It’s not even a question. I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening again in that same overwhelming way.

“Yeah,” I admit, softer now. “I do.” Saying it out loud feels different. Bigger. Real in a way that makes everything inside me shift again.

“And you didn’t tell me sooner?” she hisses quietly, her eyes narrowing just slightly, but there’s no real bite to it.

“I couldn’t,” I say, my voice breaking just a little under the weight of it. “I asked him to keep it quiet, Addy. I didn’t think it would feel like this so fast. I didn’t think it would be…”

I trail off, not even sure how to finish that. This big. This consuming. This right. Her expression softens instantly, the teasing gone, replaced with something warm and understanding.

“Okay,” she says quietly, nodding once. “Okay.” Her hand slides over mine, squeezing gently. “I won’t say anything.”

I nod, relief settling in, but it doesn’t ease everything.

Because across the room—I can still feel him. And when I glance up—he’s already looking at me. Like he knows something just changed. Like he felt it too.

Chapter 32

Dean

Somethingshifted.Ifeltit before I could name it. Not in a loud, obvious way. Not something anyone else in this room would pick up on. But with her… it’s never been something I have to see to know. It sits under my skin, pulls my attention without effort, like whatever ties me to her tightened just a little more over the last few days.

Over the last two nights. My grip tightens slightly around the glass in my hand as I watch the room wind down, the noise settling from loud celebration into something softer. People are still laughing, still talking, but the edge of it has faded. The night is ending. I don’t want it to. Not because of the game. Not because of the drinks. Because of what comes after. She leaves. Back to Addy’s. Or worse—back to her apartment.

Alone. The thought sits wrong, heavier than it should be, sharper than anything else in this room. I roll my shoulders once, trying to shake it off, but it doesn’t move.