Page 23 of These Jagged Edges

My fingers tremble but I don't stop tracing over the scars littered across the back of his hands. "Yeah, it sounded like someone undoing a belt."

Maddox becomes rigid as he understands my meaning. "My office keys were in my pocket." Maddox intertwines our fingers on his lap. "I wish you could see yourself as everyone around you does."

I try to pull my hand away, but he only holds it firmer. "Trust me, I see myself. Every day I see me."

Determination crosses his handsome face. "No, you see what he made you believe you were. He tried to make you weak and broken. But let me tell you Evie Taylor, you are the furthest thing from weak or broken. You are like walking sunshine, so strong and vibrant the rest of us poor bastards hope for a second of your time just to bask in your warmth." This is the second person to refer to me as sunshine. I pull away and this time he lets go. I stand and will my feet to move but they won't.

I can feel the energy in the room become more charged, and the steady strumming of my heart is trying to prepare me for the inferno that sits before me. It keeps gently pushing me towards him. The man who never has more than a few words to say reads me like his favorite book. He unnerves me and makes me feel the one thing I know causes more devastation than anything: hope.

Hope he may be right. I want to hope that I’m not the broken thing Trent made me and that my light was never snuffed out, only dimmed to a flicker. My heart knows he's right, but my head can't let go of all the devastation. It's a bitch to be at war with yourself.

"I don't shine, Maddox." I laugh bitterly.

The smirk he gives me makes him look more like Mercy thanever before, playful and young. "You’re right. You burn, baby, and you burn so damn brightly even you can't hide it no matter how hard you try."

I have no words for that. I pick up a couple of butterfly band aids, pull away from his touch, and close the gash as silence envelops us once again.

"I was driving that night, Evie," he says so quietly I almost miss it.

I say nothing. I know this is Maddox giving me a piece of him, something he doesn’t give to anyone, not even his family. He refuses to talk about his daughter and her death.

Maddox clears his throat. "Since the wreck, all I've felt is this hole inside me growing bigger. I keep losing pieces of myself to it. Hell, for a long time, I broke off pieces of myself and threw them in, avoiding dealing with my grief. The anger I felt keeps me going, so I never forget. I buried myself in building The Boxing Den to stay busy thinking I could avoid it all, my family included." He points to his heart. "That hole stopped growin' and all that rage died down when you told me it scared you."

"Maddox—" I want to tell him I didn’t mean it, and I understand he was just a man riddled with a painful infestation of grief he couldn’t deal with.

"I want to help you be strong enough to take on the world and yourself, Evie. Freeing you from all the things that haunt you." My heart pounds at his raspy confession, and I sense one of the walls I’ve carefully constructed around my heart starting to crumble. This time, I don’t feel the urge to rebuild it.

Here he is—a man who has lost it all, seething with anger at the world, yet still eager to lend me a hand. But who would help free him?

Stepping closer, I position myself between his legs. He doesn't move. Maddox freely lets me lead and be in control. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I breathe in his earthy scent as Maddox silently tracks my every move. Slowly reaching out, I traced the scar acrosshis lips. Maddox closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I grasp his face in my hands and lean forward. Goosebumps cover his arms, and my heart hammers in my chest. I breathe a thank you across his lips before softly kissing his cheek.

The following day,I woke up to a small rectangular box wrapped in a purple bow on my front steps. I take it in and unwrap it to find pepper spray inside with a note written in a neat script that says,

"Use this instead of the taser. It keeps their dick in the dirt longer. -M"

Lou came over after breakfast with the good sheriff and tried her best to be irritated about it, but I could see how much she secretly enjoyed it. Her eyes were softer, and she seemed lighter than usual. She'd never tell a soul how much she enjoyed having breakfast with Henry.

"What happened between you two? Why do you dislike him so much?" I ask her over the pile of laundry between us.

Lou stops folding the towel in her hand. "I like the man just fine."

"No. You can't even tolerate Henry," I challenge her.

"We've talked about this before, Evie." She sighs.

“Lou, whenever I try to talk with you about it, you deflect or change the subject."

She slams the towel in the stack at our feet. "Why do you wait to wash all the towels one day a week? There's at least fucking fifty here."

"Lou."

"I'm serious, E. There's no way the three of you dirty up this many towels in one week. There are three of you, not fuckingthirty people living here!" She haphazardly folds another towel and throws it in the stack knocking the stack of towels over.

"Louisiana Rose."

"What!"

“Talk to me. We’re best friends and something about Henry is eating you alive. Don't hold back on me. Let me be here for you just as you have been for me."

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