Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 38 New Night Time Rituals Sophia
How horrifically pathetic is it that Maddox is the first person to say I love you to me? The first to show me what kind of intimacy those words can carve into your soul.
Twenty-four years old, and I'm only hearing those words for the first time.
To be fair, it's the first time I've allowed anyone to stay in my life long enough for that emotion to form, and what's worse is—I have no idea how to feel about it. You'd think it'd be easy, that the moment would hit like a revelation, warm and all-consuming. But you'd be wrong.
Which part is more pathetic, you tell me? That I can't process three simple words, or that no one has ever said them to me? Not my mother. Not my childhood friends. Not my ex-boyfriends. Shit, I don't think I've even said those words to myself.
So you can see how paralyzing they are.
I thought I had everything figured out, but who was I kidding? I have nothing figured out because those three words just turned my brain to raw, useless mush.
Maddox left a few minutes ago to grab us some food, and considering how late it is, Jax barely made it to the apartment before crashing. His tiny hands still clutch the bottle, chest rising and falling against mine. He's been sleeping more than usual, but I guess that's normal for a sick baby. It doesn't stop the chill in my veins, the helplessness I feel knowing there's nothing I can do to prevent this from happening again.
Apparently, that's a parent's burden to carry. And I am a parent. I might not have given birth to him, but I've given up more for this little boy than his own mother ever has. I love him as my own. People can say whatever the hell they want—Jax is mine. I wasn't ready. I still doubt my abilities every damn day. But I love him with the kind of love that was never given to me, and if that makes me reckless, then so be it. If that makes me naive, then fine. If that makes me his mother, then I'll wear the title like armor.
The weight of that realization, of everything I've been feeling since Maddox whispered those words, crashes into me all at once. I clutch Jax a little closer, walking across the apartment just to keep myself moving, to keep my emotions from swallowing me whole.
Curiosity gets the best of me as I took in my surroundings. Simple. Clean. The ceiling-high windows stretch across the space, making the New York skyline an unintentional backdrop. The furniture is modern, untouched, like it was thrown together in a rush. If I close my eyes and inhale deep enough, I bet I can still smell the fresh paint.
But even though I know Maddox doesn't live here, even though Lina and Aster put this place together in under an hour—it still feels like him.
Everywhere, I see Maddox.
I see him in the effort behind this apartment, the way it already feels like home because he made it that way. I feel him in the lingering trace of his cologne in the air, citrus and warmth wrapping around me like a presence I can't shake. I see him in the hoodie he tore off earlier, now abandoned on the kitchen counter. I see him in the way the living room sits—dark, still, yet undeniably lived in.
