Page 38 of Trade It All

Chapter 16

Dean

Thedoorclosesbehindher, and for a second I just stand there, staring at it like it might open again if I give it enough time. It doesn’t.

“Sorry, Coach. I’ll let you know she’s okay.” Luka’s voice cuts through it, calm in a way that tells me he’s already made peace with how that just went down. I don’t answer him. I don’t trust anything that would come out of my mouth right now to land the way it should. He doesn’t wait for one anyway. The door shuts again a second later.

And just like that—it’s quiet. I don’t move. Not right away. I stay where I am, the space still holding the shape of where she was standing, where her voice sat, where everything shifted and I let it.

“What the fuck just happened?” I say to no one…because everyone else just fucking left. I know exactly what happened.

I pushed. She pushed back. And I let her walk out that door like I didn’t have a choice in it. My jaw tightens. The red doesn’t explode this time. It focuses. Clean. Controlled.

“Oh, fuck no.” The words leave me low and rough as I move, already halfway to the door before the thought fully finishes forming. I don’t grab my shoes. Don’t stop for anything. I’m out into the hall, cutting straight for the other elevator, the one that gets me there faster, the one that doesn’t leave room for hesitation.

My keycard hits the panel, overriding every stop between here and the ground floor. I don’t pace. I don’t shift. I stand there, still, watching the numbers drop, every second stretching just enough to remind me that she’s getting further away while I’m standing here doing nothing.

Not happening.

The doors open, and I’m already moving. Fast. Controlled. Focused in a way that doesn’t waste anything. I hit the lobby just as they’re reaching the front doors, Addy’s arm wrapped around her like she’s already decided Maddie’s not taking another step without her. I should be grateful for that. I am. Somewhere under everything else. But right now—right now I’m watching her walk out of my building like she doesn’t belong here, like she didn’t just spend the night in my arms, like she didn’t look at me this morning and let me in on something no one else has seen.

And that doesn’t sit right.

“Madison!” Her name comes out in a roar. Sharper than I intend, louder than I should’ve let it, cutting across the space before I can pull it back.

I see it immediately. The way her shoulders tighten. The way her body reacts before her mind catches up. And I hate it. Hate that I did that. Hate that for even a second, I made her feel like something she needed to brace against instead of something she could lean into. That’s not what I am to her. Not now. Not ever.

She turns anyway. Slow. And when she does—it’s gone. That hesitation. That flinch. What’s left is something else entirely.

Fire.

It’s right there in her eyes, sharp and alive and pushing back at me in a way that settles something in my chest even as everything else is still wound too tight.

There’s my girl.

I’ve missed that fire. A slow smile pulls across my face before I can stop it, something quieter settling under the heat still sitting in my chest as I start toward her, closing the distance step by step without breaking eye contact. I don’t rush it. I don’t need to. She doesn’t move either. She stands there, holding her ground, that fire still burning in her eyes like she’s already preparing for the argument she thinks is coming, like she’s bracing herself to push back again.

Good.

The thought goes straight to my dick. I can not wait to see how far she will let me push her. But, that isn't what this is about. I step into her space until the front of my socks press lightly against the toe of her shoes, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to keep looking at me, close enough that there’s no pretending this is casual or accidental.

“You aren’t leaving.” My voice comes out rough, but not sharp like before. It holds weight without cutting, steady in a way that doesn’t ask but doesn’t force either.

Her eyes flash, that same defiance rising up, ready to meet me, to push against me again, and something in me tightens at it—not frustration, not anger, just a sharp awareness of her, of the way she stands her ground even when everything in her has been shaken.

I don’t move closer. I don’t push her. Instead, I let the moment breathe for a second, let her sit in it, let her feel that I’m not trying to take anything from her this time.

Then I lift my hand slowly, deliberate in every movement, making sure she sees it coming, making sure nothing about this catches her off guard. My eyes never leave hers as I reach for my watch, my fingers working the clasp open with a practiced ease that has nothing to do with what’s actually pulling my focus. I slide it free. Lift my wrist between us.

Only then do her eyes drop. Just for a second. Long enough to see it. The black hair tie wrapped around it.

“You left this.” My voice lowers, not softer, just more contained, more focused as I hold it there between us, letting her take it in, letting her see that I kept it, that I noticed something that small and didn’t let it go. “You belong here.” The words come slower now, not forced, not rushed, just… certain in a way I don’t question. “With me.” I hold her gaze again when her eyes lift back up, letting her see it this time, not hiding it behind anything else, not softening it into something easier to walk away from. “You always have.” There’s no edge to it now. No anger. Just truth that’s been sitting there longer than I wanted to admit. “I was just too much of an idiot to see it before.”

She just stands there, looking at me, really looking this time, like she’s trying to figure out if I mean it, if this is something real or just another version of me she hasn’t seen before. The space between us holds for a second longer than it should, stretched tight with everything we haven’t said yet.

And then—she laughs. It catches me off guard in the best way, soft at first and then a little brighter, something real slipping through before she can stop it. “You kept it?” Her eyes flick down to my wrist, then back up to mine, disbelief and something lighter threading through her expression in a way that shifts everything.

And I feel it. That tension we were sitting in just a second ago loosens, cracks open enough for something easier to slip in. I laugh too. I don’t mean to. It just comes out, rough at first, thensteadier, because of course that’s what she focuses on, of course that’s what breaks through everything else sitting between us.