Page 55 of The Two Halves of My Heart

I wanted to kick myself. I was putting all my happiness on someone else—the habit of a lifetime. Surely, I’d learned my lesson by now?

The kitchen looked like a bomb had exploded. Pans covered the limited surface areas, and the sink was piled with yet more dirty dishes. But there was that familiar aroma of garlic and rich goodness that made me feel so happy.

“Oh, boy, that smells good.” Maddison leaned on the door jam, having just walked in.

“Well, fingers crossed. Your mum makes this look easy.”

“I’ll just go and wash up.”

“Sure.” I felt like I needed a lie down before dinner. Making all the components of the dish from scratch was a personal accomplishment, and didn’t that say something about my life?

Ten minutes later, with the timer on the oven buzzing frantically, Mads re-appeared at the door, his hair damp from a shower, and yet another t-shirt protesting at the strain over his muscles.

“Go and sit. I’ll bring it through. There’s plenty to keep even your appetite in check.”

“Is that a challenge,” he called.

“We’ll see.”

I placed the dish in the middle of the small table that served as our study-come dining table and scooped the biggest portion onto Maddison’s plate.

“This smells just like Mum’s.”

“That’s the plan. Although, I think it was you that was meant to be cooking,” I jested, remembering our conversation before we moved in.

“Fair point. Okay, I’ll be the one to destroy the kitchen next time.” He shot a sideways grin at me.

“Oi, it was my first time.”

He turned the grin into a full, beaming smile, and it turned my stomach upside down. I’d missed Maddison since we’d move in, and right now, sitting across from me, he looked so damn sexy.

We both dug in, and for my first attempt, I was impressed. It wasn’t quite the same as we’d been enjoying at the Ray’s forever, but it was a good impression. Maddison devoured his plateful and looked at the dish longingly.

“Go on,” I offered, warmth spreading through me at the simple satisfaction of cooking something he liked.

“Thanks. I’m starving. And I need to bulk up some more.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I need to ask you something again.”

I already knew what it was going to be before the words were out of his mouth. There was an edge to his words that gave away the fact that I wouldn’t like what was coming.

“I have another fight in a couple of weeks, and I need you there again.” He spoke between mouthfuls as if this was just a simple request that I’d happily acquiesce to. As far as I was concerned, I hated that Maddison was still involved in fighting at all and wanted nothing to do with it. Especially as last time, it ended with Oliver leaving.

For good.

No matter which way I looked at it, the fight that night had pushed Oliver away, and I’d pushed my feelings for Oliver away, rejecting them as he’d rejected me by leaving.

The warmth of a moment ago chilled in my blood and a tickle of resentment flickered through me, but I pushed that away, too. We were where we were, and nothing now would change that.

“You know how I feel about all that. Please don’t make me go back. Alone.”

He finished up and dropped his cutlery on the plate. “I need you there. You know this.”

“You say you do, but then you don’t even consider my feelings.” I started clearing the plates, shoving them on top of the mountain clogging the sink already. I tilted my head to the ceiling and closed my eyes, searching for some inner strength to have this conversation again.

“All you have to do is be there for me. You’re not in any danger. No one will touch you, I promise,” he shouted from the other room.

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