Chapter 8

eight

ISLA

It's midnight, and I'm star-fishing on my bed, trying to make sense of my evening when my phone vibrates.

Jess

Well? How was dinner? You never texted us, so hopefully that means you're naked and breathless in that gorgeous hunk of man-meat's bed.

Nev

Is his dick huge? I bet it's huge.

Groaning, I debate ignoring them altogether. But that might just make them show up at my apartment at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning, and I want to sleep in.

Me

I have no idea what size his dick is. We didn't sleep together and never will. He was a pompous asshole for the better part of the night, and I almost left fifteen minutes into the date.

Jess

What? Why? What did he do?

Nev

Do we need to find out where he lives and egg his house?

LOL. Please don't. I'm exhausted. Can we meet for lunch tomorrow and I'll tell you all about it?

Nev

Are you kidding me? How are we supposed to sleep when you haven't told us anything?

I'm sure you'll find a way.

Nev

Rude.

You love me.

Jess

*Sighs* We do. Noon tomorrow at Café Gold?

Perfect. Goodnight. Love you both.

Nev

Love you more.

Jess

Sweet dreams!

Sweet dreams. Doubtful. I'm exhausted, but my mind won't shut up. I keep going round and around with myself, trying to figure out how I feel about Maddox Graves and our date. Because he'd been kind toward the end. And he'd agreed so easily to come speak at my school. It was enough that I didn't feel like a total sellout during the short but awkward interview with the reporter from Minnesota Sports Monthly.

First, the guy looked me up and down so intently it was like he was trying to see through my clothes. Then he'd asked me some weird questions about Maddox. Like whether his nickname was well-earned. Except I don't know a darn thing about Maddox Graves, so I didn't know what he was talking about. Then he asked if I was hoping to go home with Maddox. I almost kneed him in the balls for that one. Luckily, Maddox shut that down and told the reporter he was being rude and inappropriate. The guy seemed genuinely shocked when I told him Maddox was kind and gentlemanly. And he had been, at least at the end, so it wasn't a complete lie.

Still, I've been telling myself not to do a Google deep dive to figure out why Maddox seems to have such an awful reputation. Because it shouldn't matter. I'll see him at the silent auction dinner with the girls if I can't get out of it and then one more time for the assembly. Assuming he follows through on his promise. Then that's it. We'll go back to being utter strangers.

Who cares what his nickname is or why he got it? Who cares why the reporter seemed to find it so unbelievable that Maddox was nice? Not me. I'm above all that gossip and celebrity bullshit.

I stare at my ceiling. Then I grab my phone and unlock it. My fingers fly across the screen and before I can think better of it, I'm flipping through the photos Maddox took with me before we said good night. He's so tall, the top of my head barely hits his shoulders. His hand rests on my hip in the photos, and I can almost feel the phantom warmth of his palms.

Maddox smiles at the camera in most of the snaps. Except for the last one. In that photo, he's looking down at me while I smile, oblivious. There's almost a wistfulness to his gaze I can't stop staring at.

He was just playing a part. He wanted me to have a good photo to post on my social media accounts. One that would make Alex jealous. That's all it was. Maddox Graves made it very clear from the start that he was not remotely interested in me, and he never would be.

And that's good. Because a guy like him would be way too dangerous for my heart and spirit. Even if he found me interesting enough to go out with once or twice, he'd realize I'm not good enough for him. I'm not the woman you want photographed on your arm. Not when you're an up-and-coming lawyer, and certainly not when you're a successful, high-powered sports star.

That's okay. I'm done with guys like that.

Still, my mind is full of Maddox Graves, and soon I'm typing his name into Google. No one has to know how pathetic I'm being right now. I'm alone in my apartment, and it's not like Maddox has some sort of super-secret spy software alerting him whenever a sad, lonely woman does an internet deep-dive. I sure as hell won't be telling Jess and Nevaeh about this. They'll read way too much into it and decide I'm attracted to him. Which I'm not. At all. Not even a little .

The first few searches bring up his sports stats and information about his hockey career. Even ignorant about the game, I can tell his record is impressive. I watch a few clips of him racing across the ice, stick in hand, as he lines up a shot and slaps it home. The crowd loves him. They chant his name and hold up signs asking him to throw them a puck or to let them have his babies.

Yuck.

But after a bit more digging, I come across articles speculating about Maddox's dating life. They're hardly journalistic masterpieces. Most of them are on gossip sites of questionable repute. But they all say the same thing. Maddox Graves likes to use women up and spit them out as soon as someone younger and prettier comes along. Apparently, he's had a couple of serious girlfriends, but as soon as they bring up marriage and family, he walks away without a second thought.

Or so the women he's dated claim. There are always two sides to every story, but after the night I had with Maddox, I don't have much of a reason to think they're making it up.

It seems a couple of those jilted women even did interviews with a few gossip magazines. Feeling only a little guilty, I click on one with a woman named Candace Peterson. Her photo is prominent at the top of the article, and she's exactly the type of woman I'd imagine a guy like Maddox would go for. Blonde hair bleached to within an inch of its life, lips that look like they're stretched tight with filler, and cleavage for days. Like, I don't know how she's not suffocating from her boobs pressing into her neck kind of cleavage. She stares at the camera with bedroom eyes, and it's enough to make me feel uncomfortable .

If I had even the slightest doubt that Maddox Graves would never be interested in a woman like me, staring at Candace's photo squashes it. Even dressed up in expensive clothes, I'll never give off the sex-pot vibes Maddox's ex does. No wonder he brushed me off so quickly. He probably gave me one look and decided that I must wear granny panties up to my rib cage and suck at giving head.

Needless to say, if sexual goddess is Maddox's feminine ideal, I'm not it. Don't get me wrong, I have a healthy sexual appetite. Hell, I read some kinky smut and, if given the chance, I think I'd be pretty damn adventurous in bed. But Alex had his favorite positions and ideas about what sex should be, and most of them involved missionary, lots of grunting, and almost no dirty talk. I haven't exactly had the chance to step into my own kinky-goddess era.

Maybe someday.

But I'm getting sidetracked.

The interview starts with Candace talking about how she and Maddox dated for a year. How they met at a bar and had instant sparks. She tells the journalist she was hesitant to date a hockey player because she'd heard they're all players in it for no-strings-attached sex. But Maddox pursued her, and she reluctantly gave him a chance.

I snort at that. Nothing about Candace's photo screams reluctant . Am I being judgmental? Probably. Am I wrong? I doubt it.

She paints a pretty picture of a man who wouldn't take no for an answer in his pursuit of her. Telling the writer how, in the beginning, he asked her to go to all of his hockey games and wear his jersey, and how he made her feel like the most special woman on the planet. It was so consuming that she gave up her ambitions to support him.

My chest feels tight. It's a familiar story. Too familiar.

Then one day, it was over. He told her he was done with her. That they didn't have a future. That she wasn't the kind of woman he'd ever tie himself to. She lamented that he'd stolen her heart, made it his, and then buried it in a cold, dark grave.

The writer calls him the Gravedigger.

Rubbing at my sternum, I navigate away from the article. It brings up too many memories, and every word feels like a reminder of how hopelessly na?ve I was. I don't know if everything Candace said was truthful. But I do know that I've lived that tragic tale and I'll never put myself in that position again. If I ever reopen my heart, I'll find a nice guy who understands the value of loyalty, love, and family. And I'm going to stay far, far away from men like Maddox Graves.