Chapter 12

12

Madeline

I try to pack my belongings in half an hour. I really do. But when Leigh sends me a stack of texts outlining some things we need to do immediately, I fail.

Tucker made a statement about our relationship and the tour last night and it wasn't kind to me. Leigh is furious and so am I after I read it. I was already angry after the messages we exchanged yesterday, but this...this lights a fire inside me that I would never have imagined possible.

He can't marry me because I don't love him like he loves me?

That fucking asshole.

I need to make a statement of my own but Leigh has reminded me that not only do I need a new manager and lawyer, but I also need a new publicist. Every person on my team is also on Tucker's team, so I can't use any of them. I won't use any of them. Leigh has taken it upon herself to change all my social media passwords and compile a list of possible PR replacements. Until I hire someone, I need to decide what to do with my socials. And I have to decide whether I want to make a statement immediately or wait until I have someone to advise me of the best way to handle this.

Leigh, being the amazing assistant she is, texted me one she drafted as a starting point for me to tweak. I stop packing and sit on the bed to read it.

"You look like you're in physical pain," Ethan says, sitting on the bed across from me. It doesn't escape me that unlike all the men I've ever known, he doesn't appear annoyed that I'm slowing us down.

"I am."

"What's happened?"

I pass him my phone so he can read Leigh's draft. "I don't know what to do."

He reads the statement and then looks at me. "You have no gut instinct on this?"

"Oh, I do, but it's probably not the right instinct."

"What's it telling you?"

The violence that crawled under my skin yesterday blazes to life. "Well, first, I want to go clothes shopping and buy all the kinds of clothes I want that Tucker never let me wear. And then, I want to take a photo of myself wearing something from my shopping spree and post it on Instagram with the caption ‘Fuck you, Tucker.'"

The look on his face says he'd be my collaborator on this. "Is there a middle finger involved in this photo?"

The violence under my skin says fuck yes, but I waver on this. "I don't know ..."

He stands and lifts his chin at me. "Okay, let's go."

I blink. "No ...god, no. That was just me being angry."

"No, that was your gut speaking. You're putting that wig on and I'm taking you shopping. We can leave the fuck-you-Tucker photo out of this, but let's see how you feel after shopping."

I stand, every inch of my skin desperate to follow his lead while my brain does everything in her power to put forth reasons why this is a very bad idea. "We don't have time for shopping, Ethan. Not if you want to get to Louisville by five."

"We can arrive at midnight for all I care. I was thinking about you when I planned for a five o'clock arrival."

"Huh? Why?"

"I wanted you to be there in time for dinner and an early bedtime. I think you probably need some kind of routine you can count on right now. Three square meals a day and decent sleep is a good start."

"You really are the most thoughtful guy I've ever met," I murmur.

"No, it's just what you do for people who are going through something."

I shake my head. "It's not. It's really not what most people do. Especially not for someone they just met. I hope you know how special you are."

Ethan doesn't reply to that, but I think he appreciates what I just said. I wonder if anyone has ever told him how special he is.

He starts issuing bossy orders like, "Move your ass, Miller, we've got shopping to do," and forty minutes later, I've got the brunette wig on that Leigh packed and we're walking into a shopping mall.

I'm not even feeling a little bit nervous about being seen. Not anymore. Something shifted in me yesterday when Tucker wished me good fucking luck. I think I was hiding because I was filled with shame over running out on him the way I did. I no longer feel that way. Not when I was the only one who showed up honestly for most of our relationship. I'm not the one who should be feeling shame.

Let the world see me now. I have nothing to hide from.

I put the wig on though. For security purposes. I don't want to put Ethan or myself in a situation that could get out of control.

"Right," Ethan says while surveying the racks of clothing in front of us. "What are we looking for?"

I smile up at him. "Do you enjoy shopping?"

"Generally, not with women."

"But you're taking one for the team today."

"Yeah." He smiles down at me and doesn't look even the slightest bit like he wishes he was somewhere else.

I gaze out at all the clothes. "I don't really know what I'm looking for." I bite my lip. "I'm sorry, this probably wasn't the best idea when we're in the middle of a road trip."

"I don't know, this feels very much in alignment with this trip."

"What? Rash and impulsive?"

"I was thinking of liberation. Freedom. Empowerment."

It's funny how other people see us compared to how we see ourselves and I'm reminded that I used to think of myself in a whole different way before I met Tucker.

I was fiercely independent back then. I had to be after my mother got sick when I was sixteen. She died the day before I graduated from high school and instead of drowning in my grief, I got on with life like she'd done when my father died.

I met Tucker seven years after that, and it was nice not to have to worry about where my next paycheck would come from because I finally had a steady one. It was nice to have a reprieve from the grief I'd been trying to ignore for years. And it was really nice to have some luxury and fun in my life.

I exchanged my independence for ease, and I now know that was a bad trade.

"You're right." I push my shoulders back. "Let's find some new clothes."

We spend two hours shopping. We search the mall high and low and if a piece of clothing draws my attention, I buy it. I push doubts and second-guesses from my mind and just go by feel. It's exhilarating.

Ethan helps by holding up possibilities as he finds them. It turns out he's a fast learner because he starts spotting things before I do once he knows my style. He wanders off to take a work call while I'm in the lingerie department and when he returns about ten minutes later, he's holding a pair of oversized black women's undies.

I contain my smile. "Are those for you?"

He's amused. "Smart-ass. They're for you." He holds them up and shows me the "Take No Shit" scrawled across the front in bright colors. Surrounding the words is a pattern of bright flowers and middle fingers. "They're so loud they assaulted me while I was walking through the racks, and I knew you had to have them."

"Oh my god." I laugh as I take them from him. "You're so right. I need these in my life."

"I looked for cloud patterns too since I know how much you love them. Sadly, there were none."

I roll my eyes at him but I'm still laughing.

We banter and laugh our way to the cashier. This entire shopping expedition has felt more domestic and natural than anything I've done in the last three years, and I've enjoyed every second of it. The fact it's stirring feelings for Ethan is something I try to ignore because I really doubt he's in the market for a woman as messed up as me. But what he's given me today is something I've craved forever with a man.

After we pay, I make him wait while I find a restroom to change my clothes. I put on the pair of tattered denim shorts I selected along with a grungy gray sleeveless top that has a phoenix with its wings spread wide as the focal point. The words "FREE BIRD" are written above the bird while underneath it says, "and this bird you cannot change."

The heated look Ethan gives me when I emerge from the restrooms unleashes butterflies in my stomach. "I thought hot-quad shorts were banned on this road trip," he says as we head for the car.

"These are hardly hot-quad shorts, Black."

He gives me a disbelieving arch of his brows before dropping his gaze to my shorts, and holy heck it's like my entire body decides to get behind those butterflies in my stomach. I almost lose the thread of our conversation while my body tries to run the show. "They fucking are," he says when his eyes find mine again.

Oh. Wow.

Ethan's as affected by my shorts as I was by his.

"Should I change?" I want to show him the same courtesy he showed me.

"Don't you dare."

By the time we arrive at his car, I'm all kinds of bothered. Mostly because of his reaction to my shorts but also because I've pulled up my memory of the kiss we shared the day we met. The one Ethan took charge of.

I didn't want that kiss to end. The way he'd taken hold of my face and grazed his thumb over my jaw had been so intimate. And the way he'd kissed me so thoroughly and then ground himself against me? I've lost count of the number of times I've thought about that. But the apology he'd given when he'd dragged his mouth from mine? That was everything even though it was so unnecessary.

I barely know this man, but I think he's shown me exactly who he is. And while good looks, smoldering eyes, and sexy magnetism are all turn-ons, I'm discovering just how much a man's heart turns me on more.

When Ethan opens my car door for me and takes all my shopping bags, I avoid eye contact and settle myself into my seat while he puts the bags in the trunk. I busy myself on my phone when he starts the car. I need a hot minute to shift my thoughts away from our kiss. Looking at him won't help me do that.

His deep voice cuts into my thoughts as we drive toward the exit. "Are we taking a photo?"

"No...maybe. I don't know." I madly keep my eyes on my phone, tapping, swiping, scrolling.

He stops the car in the middle of the parking lot exit. "Miller. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

I glance up and look in the rearview mirror. "You can't just stop here. There are cars behind us."

"I don't give a shit about those cars, Maddie. I give a shit about why you're being weird with me. What gives?"

I've only dated three guys in my life. I didn't have a boyfriend in high school and didn't lose my virginity until I was twenty. I've never had a one-night stand. I've never kissed a random stranger before I kissed Ethan. All up, I don't have a lot of experience with men or flirting. And I have no experience with the kinds of feelings I'm having right now.

I look at Ethan who is watching me like I'm the only other person in the world. He's giving me the kind of attention I've never known, and he's right; I am being weird with him. All I can give him is my truth. "I'm thinking about how much I liked shopping with you. No one's ever gone shopping with me and made it fun like you did." I pause before adding, "I really like hanging out with you."

Surprise is clear in his eyes. I don't think he expected that. "I really fucking like the way you share yourself so honestly."

A horn blares from behind us while my heart beats loudly in my chest.

"I was also thinking about our kiss the other day."

His piercing gaze smolders with an intensity that jolts electricity through my veins. "I haven't been able to get that kiss out of my mind."

My breathing feels very unsteady right now.

The horn blares again.

"We need to go," I say, even though leaving this moment behind is the last thing I want to do.

"Yeah." Ethan's voice is gravel, and it moves into my veins, too.

He doesn't stop looking at me.

The horn blares again, for much longer.

I smile. "You've got a photo to take of me, Black."

He's still not taking his eyes off me. "Will there be a middle finger involved?"

"I'm not sure yet. Let's see."