Page 112 of Her Greatest Mistake

“Maddox,” she starts softly, but I shake my head.

“I’m assuming you still want me at practice today, or are you going to risk the Stanley Cup finals without me?” I ask Alex, still staring at my girl.

“Be at practice,” he grinds out, anger vibrating in the words.

I nod. “Then we’re leaving. You can talk to Dougie on my behalf from now on. There’s nothing else I have to say.”

I’m grateful when Braxton stands, moving toward me. As soon as she’s within arm’s distance, I’m pulling her into me, breathing her in to try and calm down.

I glance at Dad over Braxton’s head and watch as he nods at me, a heavy sense of understanding in his stare.

“The offer won’t be around for long, Maddox. I would think carefully about what you could be giving up,” Alex says as I start to lead Braxton out of the office. If I didn’t know better, I would think there’s a hint of desperation in the words.

“I already have, and I’m not losing her again,” I say before walking out of the room, wanting nothing more than to just toss Braxton over my shoulder and run away from this place. From all of this.

Neither of us speaks on the way to the parking garage, and I think that’s because we don’t know what to say. If I’m still reeling from everything that was said back there, I can’t imagine what’s going on in her head right now.

I would be lying if I said that didn’t scare me.

Her car is in the spot we left it, tucked between Dad’s truck and the concrete wall with a Reserved parking sign hung from it.

The ride here was spent in silence, not because we were both too nervous to speak, but because we still weren’t sure if there was a bug, and now that we’re here again, I’m not reliving that experience.

I’m finding this fucking bug.

“Unlock the doors for me, baby girl,” I mutter, a hand on the driver’s door.

She does, and I tear open the door. I’m frantic as I dig through the car, blood pumping in my ears. I root through the things in every compartment there is, every crevice and dip, and still come up empty. It’s not until I slide my hand along the underside of the passenger seat that I feel it.

A curse claws its way up my throat as I rip it out and push out of the car. The small black device that caused so much trouble feels so breakable in my hand, and after taking a picture of it to send to my dad and Dougie, I shove it in my jean pocket.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“You were right,” Braxton whispers. “I think I feel more creeped out than angry.”

“I’m sorry. Shit, this is all my fault.” I dig my fingers into my hair and pull.

She grabs my forearms, and I let go of my hair.

“No. It’s not. You didn’t hire someone to break into my car and put a listening device inside. But I know who did, and I need to go talk to him.”

My eyes fly up. “Let me come.”

“No. I need to do this on my own. He’s my dad, even if he’s an awful one.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I can’t keep doing this with him. Even if he doesn’t listen to me, I have to talk to him. And you need to talk to your dad. There’s a lot on the line here, Maddox. You can’t be hotheaded.”

My lungs tighten. “I don’t like your tone, Curly. We’re going to get this cleaned up and then get back to where we were this morning.”

I don’t know who I’m trying to convince. Her or me.

She offers me a smile. “I know. But it’s going to take some time.”

“Not a lot of it.”

Her hands link behind my head as she pulls me down and kisses me fiercely, like she’s scared it’s the last one she’ll ever get. I slip my arms up her back and kiss her just as eagerly, pushing her up against the car. Fitting myself against her, I hold her hips in my palms and squeeze.

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