2. Michael

2

Michael

T his was going exactly according to plan.

I sat in the front of my car, engine idling, eyes fixed on Addison. She wrestled with the jack, frustration etched across her face, the soft glow of the car's emergency lights painting her in stark relief against the night. There was a peculiar satisfaction in watching her like this; I've been doing it all my life. But now, now I had the chance to step into the scene, to be her savior.

The door clicked as I opened it, the night air crisp against my skin. I approached her slowly, deliberately. Fear flickered across Addison's features as she sensed someone near—a fear that vanished upon recognizing me but not without leaving its trace.

Fuck, she looked so damn beautiful when she was afraid.

"Looks like you need some help," I said, my voice steady.

She spun around, a strand of hair falling over her eye. "Oh, it's you, Michael."

"Who did you think I was?" I couldn't help but let a small smile play on my lips.

She parted her lips then closed them again, turning away slightly as if she could hide the color rising in her cheeks. "No, it's nothing," she muttered.

"You tend to spook easily, don't you?" My words were gentle ribbing, but part of me drank in her vulnerability.

"Am I that obvious?" Her hands fidgeted with the tools she had laid out on the ground.

I stepped closer and bent down beside her, my presence an unspoken promise of safety. "Not to everyone," I assured her. "But I've always seen you."

Before she could come up with a response, I cut in. "Go sit in my car, Addy. Stay warm. I've got this."

Her eyes, those deep wells of trust and unspoken thanks, locked onto mine for a moment before she nodded. She stood, brushing the dirt from her hands, and made her way to the passenger side of my car.

As she slipped inside, I turned my attention back to the wounded vehicle. I took the tools she already had out and got to work. My hands moved with a precision born of familiarity; it wasn't my first rodeo with roadside mishaps. Especially ones I created.

The jack fit snugly under the frame, and I cranked it with steady hands, lifting the car with a series of mechanical clicks. The weight of Addison's world seemed to rise with it, balanced precariously on my shoulders. Each turn of the wrench was methodical, deliberate. Lug nuts loosened and removed, I set them aside in a neat row on the pavement.

I yanked off the flat tire, a deflated donut of rubber that seemed almost pitiful in its flaccidity. Rolling it aside, I hefted the spare into place. The studs aligned with a satisfying thunk.

I threaded each lug nut back on by hand first, ensuring they caught the threads properly before tightening them down with the wrench. It was a dance of spin and torque that I performed with a silent count in my head—one that always ended with everything snug and secure.

The final twist sealed the deal; Addison was no longer stranded, no longer alone in the dark with her fears and frustrations. And I was the one who saved her. I lowered the car gently back to the ground and packed away the tools with a sense of completion washing over me.

Addison watched me through the fogged-up window of my car, her silhouette etched in warmth against the cold glass. I could feel her gaze as if it were physical—a weight lighter than air but potent enough to stir something deep within me.

I rapped on the window lightly to signal I was done. She emerged from my car like she was stepping out of a sanctuary, her gratitude palpable even before she spoke.

"Thank you," she said, her voice laced with a relief that made my chest swell. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped."

"Why not just call?" I asked, wiping my hands on a rag I'd pulled from the trunk.

Addison looked away, biting her bottom lip—a small act that seized my attention and sent an unexpected jolt through me. The urge to take her lip between my own teeth was sudden and fierce, and it took a conscious effort to refocus on the situation at hand.

"I wanted to do it by myself," she said, finally meeting my gaze again. Her eyes were defiant yet vulnerable. "I'm not helpless. Although…I guess I was when it came to this."

"I'm happy to help you learn how to change a tire," I offered, my words genuine. There was something about her determination that I couldn't help but admire, even as it frustrated me.

She shivered, her arms wrapping around herself in a vain attempt to ward off the evening chill. My eyes traveled over her figure, taking in the dress that clung to her like a second skin. It was reminiscent of the one she wore to the Sweethearts Ball in high school, but she'd grown since then—become more woman than girl—and this dress showed off her legs even more.

The sight stirred something territorial within me. The thought of anyone else's eyes tracing the lines of her body, those legs... It was almost enough to make me tell her to change right there and then. But I swallowed that impulse down; Addison wasn't mine to command.

Not yet.

"Come on," I said instead, reaching for her hand. "Let's get you back in the car where it's warm."

I guided her back to the car, my hand lingering just a second too long on the small of her back as she slid into the driver's seat. The urge to lean in, to steal a moment that wasn't mine to take, was a living thing in my chest, clawing for release.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes lifting to meet mine. They were like twin beacons, bright and sincere. "For everything."

I nodded once, curt and efficient. There was no room for the words crowding my throat—words of longing, of regret. I closed her door with a soft click and watched her buckle up through the window.

Striding back to my car felt like walking away from an open flame that promised warmth and destruction in equal measure. I got in and fired up the engine, watching Addison pull off from the side of the road. The purr of her car's motor was a whisper in the night that spoke of roads shared and yet untraveled.

I hated Eren in that moment—hated that he'd claimed something that had always belonged to me. It wasn't rational; it wasn't fair. But emotions rarely answered to logic.

Except…I knew what I was—a mess of contradictions and sharp edges. And I knew Addison was too good, too pure for someone like me. For anyone really.

I followed at a safe distance, our cars a pair of steel beasts prowling through the night toward a den of noise and false merriment. The thought of her with Eren twisted something deep inside me. Yet, every fiber of my being screamed to protect her purity from the world—from myself.

It was getting increasingly difficult to stay back, especially now that she was dating someone else. But it wasn't about what I wanted; it was about what Addison needed. And she didn't need another person making decisions for her.

Even if I wanted to.

The road stretched out before us, lit by our headlights and the occasional street lamp. I could almost imagine it was just us on this road—no party waiting, no Eren.

But there was a party. And there was Eren.

And I had to follow—I had to make sure she got there safely. Because that's what I did—I protected her, even if it meant protecting her from myself.

Especially that.

For now, I was content just watching her. It was an odd game we were playing, her unaware of the rules I'd laid out in my head. For now, I was content orchestrating little ways to get us to interact.

I could tell she seemed timid around me. She'd glance my way with those doe eyes, quick to look away whenever our gazes met.

But I knew why.

She could sense that part of me I kept locked away — the part that was disturbed, unhinged. That darkness that clawed at the inside of my chest, eager to break free.

Because I was positive she had a part of her like that inside of her too. It was there, underneath the surface of her calm and collected facade. I just needed to find out how to let it out.

And if it was Eren who got to experience that unleashed spirit...

The thought alone was enough to send a surge of fury through my veins. I'd kill Eren. I knew it as surely as I knew the coldness of the steering wheel beneath my fingers.

My grip tightened on the wheel, the leather groaning under my hands. No one was allowed to touch her; as far as I knew, no one had. Yet.

But if anyone dared, even Eren...

The anger came again, burning hot and unyielding, causing a growl to escape from deep within my throat. The sound was feral, raw — it startled even me.

I had to stay in control. For Addison's sake. For mine.

The barn loomed ahead, a weathered titan of timber and tin nestled among fields of sleeping crops. Its large doors hung open like the arms of an old friend, inviting us into its cavernous belly where music and laughter spilled out to greet the night.

I pulled up beside Addison's car, close enough that our mirrors almost kissed. Killing the engine, I stepped out into the crisp evening air. The gravel crunched beneath my boots as I rounded the vehicle to meet her.

She was waiting for me, a box of cookies cradled in her arms like a precious treasure. Our eyes met, and for a fleeting second, the world around us faded away. I reached out, brushing my fingers against hers as I took hold of the other side of the box.

Together, we walked toward the barn, side by side. It was easy to pretend, just for a moment, that we were there as a couple. That we were anything more than two people with intertwined pasts and unspoken tension crackling between us like static.

The interior of the barn was transformed from its humble origins into a rustic paradise. Strings of fairy lights zigzagged across the expanse above us, casting a warm glow over faces flushed with excitement and drink. Bales of hay were strategically placed around the edges, offering makeshift seating for those who needed to rest or steal away from the crowd.

Mismatched lanterns dangled from wooden beams, their flickering flames dancing to the rhythm of a live band tucked away in one corner. The musicians wrung heartache and joy from their instruments, filling the space with a melody that seemed to seep into your very soul.

Tables adorned with gingham cloths boasted an array of potluck dishes brought by attendees — casseroles bubbling with cheese, salads fresh and vibrant, platters stacked with sandwiches cut into precise triangles.

At the center of it all stood an imposing structure made from planks and nails: a dance floor that beckoned even the most reluctant with its siren song. Couples swayed there already, wrapped up in each other and the music as if nothing else existed.

As we approached one of the tables to deposit our contribution to the feast, I couldn't help but admire how seamlessly Addison fit into this tapestry of rural charm. Her dress whispered against her legs with each step she took; her smile was enough to light up even the darkest corners of this old barn.

And as we laid down her homemade cookies next to an apple pie that looked like it had come straight from a magazine cover, I allowed myself that second — that heartbeat — where it was just Addison and me, arriving together at this quaint celebration in a world where only we existed.

As we set the cookies down, a chill skittered down my spine—a prelude to the sight that greeted me. A pair of arms snaked around Addison's waist, possessive and familiar. My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as I lifted my gaze to meet the interloper.

Eren. Tall, with that same mop of unruly dark hair and piercing eyes that could command legions in another life, he stood there with an air of casual arrogance that made my blood boil. He had that same look of steely determination etched onto his face, reminiscent of a soldier ready for battle. Yet here he was, fighting a war of a different kind—one for Addison's affection.

One he thought he won.

The moment their eyes met, something passed between them—an exchange invisible and silent. Then he pulled her in close, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that was almost palpable.

My jaw locked, muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. A surge of fury blazed through me, hotter and more ferocious than anything I'd felt on the ice rink. It clawed at my insides, begging to be unleashed.

I wanted to tear him away from her, to show him the kind of pain that no one could walk away from easily. Images flickered through my mind—Eren lying on the ground, gasping for air; Eren doubled over in pain as I stood over him, every punch another message that she was off-limits.

"Come on, Carter." Keaton's voice cut through the red haze clouding my vision. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder with a friendly thump. "Let's get a drink in you."

I blinked slowly, dragging myself back from the edge of violence that had beckoned so sweetly. Keaton was oblivious to the storm raging within me, his easy smile a stark contrast to the turmoil I felt.

I allowed myself to be steered away from the scene before me—away from Addison and Eren lost in their embrace. Each step felt like walking through quicksand; it took all I had not to look back.

Keaton led me to where drinks were lined up like soldiers ready for inspection—bottles of beer sweating in the summer heat alongside jars of homemade moonshine and pitchers of sweet tea.

I reached for a beer, its cold surface a temporary balm against the heat radiating off me. The bottle opened with a hiss, and I took a long swallow, hoping it would douse the fire inside or at least numb it enough so I could pretend everything was fine.

Just for tonight.

Because there would come a time when I would get my revenge. There would come a time when Addison would be mine.

I just had to wait a little bit longer.