Page 118 of The Love You Win

“Yeah,” I snarl. “I did. Just like I’ve heard enough from the three of you. You should be on my side.”

Logan reaches over and pats my shoulder. “We are, man. Which is why we’re telling you to talk to her. Because you were never as happy as when you were with Isla. If there’s any chance that things aren’t as straightforward as you think they are, maybe this can be fixed. But you won’t know until you talk to her. Either way, you both deserve closure.”

Closure. Right.

“I’m done. I love you guys, but I need you to get the hell out so I can pack an overnight bag and get to the airport.”

“Fine,” Griffin says. “But for what it’s worth, Isla has never struck me as a woman who cares about money and all that.”

I scoff. “She’s a good actress.”

“Maybe.” Griffin shrugs. “Or maybe all of this is a big misunderstanding and you’re breaking both of your hearts for no reason.”

How has this turned into a Maddox is an idiot conversation? I’m the one who was wronged. Isla was playing me, not the other way around.

I thought I’d feel better once I told them what happened. Like it would be a weight off my chest.

So why do I feel like it’s even harder to breathe?

fifty-two

MADDOX

Thank God Mira and I had to drive separately from Chicago to Minneapolis. She knew something was up. Isla texted her the evening I overheard her conversation with her ex, and Mira hates not being in the know. She’s like a dog with a bone when there’s a mystery to be solved.

I’m tired of talking about Isla. Hell, I’m tired of thinking about Isla. Because it’s all I can seem to do. I hate it. And I hate that I miss her so much.

If life were fair, it would be physically and emotionally impossible to miss someone who hurt you. But that’s the rub, isn’t it? Because even if someone does something that hurts you, it’s not like the love you carried for them just ceases to exist. No, they get to hurt you again and again while you try to wrangle your rogue heart and force it to get with the program.

My heart doesn’t seem to care that Isla is no better than Candace. It still aches for her.

Smells trigger me. The sound of a stranger laughing when I filled the truck with gas triggered me. Everything reminds me of Isla. Makes me miss Isla.

And I fucking hate it.

The seven-hour drive feels like it takes a week. Without a passenger, there’s no one to distract me from my thoughts.

I can’t believe I’d been about to tell Isla I loved her. How’s that for a cruel twist of fate? I can’t believe I actually thought she loved me back.

Mira beats me to Griffin’s place. I suppose it’s their place for now, even though it still weirds me out. I’ll need to have another chat with my best friend and remind him what’s at stake if he hurts my sister. Not that he would. Wright’s a good man. Better than me in a lot of ways.

Maybe he’s not the only one on the team whose love life is cursed.

The two of them are standing close together and whispering when I step inside Wright’s place. Mira looks my way with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I swear to god, if Griffin has already done something stupid, I will kick his ass into next Tuesday.

Mira crosses her arms over her chest. “I know you’ve been hurt before, Maddy, so I won’t kick your ass, but you’re a real moron.” She purses her lips before giving her attention to Griffin. “I’m going to grab some things out of my car while we wait for the rest of the guys to get here. Help him pull his head out of his ass, will you?”

Wright nods. His face is more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “You know I will.”

My sister pats my friend on the chest before passing me with a shaking head. It pisses me off. Why the hell does everyone keep acting like I’m the screwup here?

Okay, yeah. So I’ve been getting some bad press. And yes, losing that sponsorship deal was a blow. Both financially and to my ego. Especially since the reasons they dropped me are usually so out of character for me. But I’m not the one who screwed up. Isla is. She’s the one who bragged about using me to her shitty ex. She’s the one who ruined our relationship.

Not me.

“The fuck is your problem?” I grumble as Wright stares at me.

---