Page 9 of Moonlight With Maddox
“Maddox?” Angie’s voice comes through the speaker, and it’s all too familiar for my liking. “I had to try and call this old line since you still don’t own a cell phone. I just needed—I just wanted to say that I’ve been thinking about you. And I hope you are doing okay. Call me if you want to talk.”
The message ends with a click.
My jaw tightens. Of course, this happens. The minute I start to feel like I might be moving forward, Angie finds a way to wedge herself back in. It’s like she has some kind ofMaddox is happyradar and needs to fuck with me.
I hit the delete button, before I can think too much about it. The machine beeps, erasing her voice, but the heartache in her wake still lingers. The painful memory of her walking away without a backwards glance.
I rub my hand over my face and down the rest of my beer, before heading out onto my porch that overlooks the valley below. Leni is down there somewhere, and I close my eyes to see her beautiful face again. But the image morphs into the memory of Angie walking out the door but is replaced by Leni instead. Everyone leaves eventually. Angie. My folks. And soon enough, Leni will too.
A heaviness presses on my chest.
Tomorrow, I’ll take her up to Lookout Point, just like I promised. But I can’t delude myself into thinking she will give up her life to stay here with me.
Nothing can happen.
10
Leni
I pack two bottles of water into the canvas tote, next to the sandwiches I made for Maddox and I to eat later.
“You’ve been smiling like that since you got up this morning,” Aunt Connie says from her seat at the kitchen table, sling cradling her arm as she nurses a mug of hot tea. “A dreamy, lovesick kind of smile, too.”
Pretending I don’t hear her, I toss a bag of trail mix into the bag with everything else. “Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone? More tea? A blanket from the linen closet in case you get cold?”
“Nice attempt to distract me,” she chuckles, setting her mug down with a clink on the table. “My arm is broken, not my brain. I can take care of myself. Now are you going to tell me why you are glowing like that?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I shrug. “I’m not glowing.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice how long Maddox’s truck was parked when he dropped you off last night. And now you are going out again today.”
“The pain meds they have you on must be pretty strong to have you making up such fiction.” I pull the tote onto my shoulder and grab my camera case off the counter. “I’m just excited about the photos I got last night. Besides, he’s just taking me up to Lookout Point to get a shot of the town. It’s not a date.”
“Right, it’s all about the photos.”
Before she can needle me further, the sound of Maddox’s truck pulling up outside gives me the perfect excuse to excuse myself from this interrogation.
“I’ll be back later,” I tell her as I push out the screen door.
“It’s most definitely a date,” she calls after me.
Maddox climbs out of his truck when he sees me come out the door. Despite my poor attempt to shake off Aunt Connie’s line of questioning, I most definitely think this is a date. After last night’s kiss, what else would this be?
But the moment I see the closed off look on Maddox’s face, doubt hits me like a punch to the gut. There’s no easy half-smile, no warmth in his eyes like there was last night. Did I just imagine everything?
“Hey,” I say, excitement warring with confusion at this sudden turn of events.
Maddox takes the tote and my camera bag from me and puts it onto the seat in the truck. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I say, searching his expression for any sign of what could have possibly changed between last night and right now. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” he answers in a gruff tone. “We should get going if you want the right light at sunset.”
I climb into the truck, pulling my camera bag onto my lap and brushing my fingers across the leather for comfort. Maddox shuts the door with more force than necessary behind me.
When he gets into the driver’s seat, the cab feels suddenly smaller than it did yesterday, filled with the quiet weight of whatever he isn’t saying.
I stare out the window, as he starts the engine and heads toward the mountain road that leads to Lookout Point.
