Chapter 3 – The Philadelphia Conundrum
The fire crackled in the small stone hearth of the cabin, casting flickering light against the wooden walls. The cabin was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath Maddie's restless feet.
She sat on the edge of the worn couch, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as though she could hold back all the vulnerability she was trying to suppress. She didn't want to be here—well, not entirely. Being in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with David Addison wasn't exactly high on her list of ways to spend an evening these days. Yet, a part of her—an exhausted, raw part—was relieved to be away from everything. From her house. From the noise in her head. She leaned back on the worn sofa, still defensively stiff as she eyed David across the room.
He had been quiet since they'd arrived, which for him was a minor miracle. Keeping himself busy by tossing logs onto the fire, adjusting the cushions on the couch, and digging through the ancient-looking kitchen for something to eat. It was like he knew—really knew—that she couldn't handle his usual barrage of wisecracks just yet. But she could feel his eyes on her every now and then, gauging her mood, waiting for the right moment to break the silence.
He was now rummaging through an old duffel bag, throwing things out as though he were preparing for some casual sleepover rather than the semi-kidnapping she'd been subjected to. Her eyes wandered around the small cabin. But she wasn't thinking about the cozy ambiance. No, she had a problem. A big problem. Too caught up in her own mind when David whisked her away from the chaos, she hadn't packed anything.
All she had with her were her work clothes.
Maddie shifted uncomfortably. Of course, David would be the one to drag her up to a mountain cabin without any warning. She was still in her pencil skirt and blouse—tight, form-fitting, stylish, of course—but definitely not exactly mountain-lodge-appropriate. The heels she'd been wearing had long since been discarded near the front door, but the rest of her outfit screamed "businesswoman lost in the woods," not "woman comfortably unwinding."
She turned to look at him just as he reappeared from the kitchen, holding what looked like a very old jar of tea bags. "I got options," he announced with a lopsided grin. "Chamomile, mint, or… mystery herb that could either relax you or turn you into a frog. I say we live dangerously and go for option three."
Maddie's lips twitched involuntarily. It was impossible not to respond to David's ridiculous charm. "Do you even have potable water up here? Or are we going to be roughing it all the way?"
"Roughing it?" David placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "You wound me, Maddie. This place may be a little rustic, but it's got all the essentials—fireplace, fourth-hand sofas, Salvation Army blankets, cracked plates and mugs, a bit of dust…" He paused, watching her expectantly,
"Charming."
"…constant power cuts—"
"A bargain."
"…an unreliable water tank—"
"Oh wait, it gets better."
"…a couple of fishing rods and nets—"
"Daniel Boone's dream."
"…our own outdoor latrine..."
Maddie blinked. "A what?"
David paused for dramatic effect, then broke into a wide, mischievous grin.
"A latrine. A throne of humble ambition. Where dignity goes to take a break. It's that majestic, hole-in-the-ground contraption where kings and peasants alike have sat in quiet contemplation, pondering life's great mysteries—"
"I know what a latrine is, David!", her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and looking horrified.
He couldn't resist. This was too good.
"Although… Not sure if the selection of reading magazines inside is… well… sexist neutral, if you know what I mean."
Maddie glared at him, her brain flashing red signals and calculating the exact number of steps to the nearest exit. Run. Now.
"I'm joking, Maddie."
A big, exasperated sigh. She stood there, arms awkwardly crossed, biting her lip. A long moment passed before she opened her mouth.
"So, um," she started, clearing her throat with all the confidence of someone asking for a kidney. "I don't suppose you have a... barn-chic wardrobe here…? Perhaps an armoire? With some… evening attire in it?"
Another moment of awkwardness between them. "A what now?"
Maddie's eyes focused intensely on a random spot on the wall as if it held the secrets to time travel. She smiled, tightly, as if holding her dignity together by sheer force of will.
"I, uh… well, I… I didn't exactly plan on staying here tonight, you see."
More silence.
David smiled. And then the smile got wider when the picture sank in. He was really enjoying this. Not wanting to push her too far just yet, the banter was dropped. Momentarily. He headed toward a tiny closet in the corner of the room and opened it with a flourish, his back to her as he rummaged through its contents.
"Right... Well, lucky for you, I'm a gentleman and I've got you covered. Literally." David's voice was filled with exaggerated seriousness as he sifted through the clothes. "Let's see… No, too formal… too casual… aha!"
He turned around, proudly holding up what looked like the world's oldest, most worn-out Philadelphia Phillies sweater in one hand and a pair of faded, threadbare sweatpants in the other, the edges fraying like they had been hacked off with a pair of dull scissors. They were so worn, Maddie wondered if they would disintegrate the second she touched them.
Maddie stared at the clothing, speechless for a moment with her chin hanging so low in disbelief that it looked like it was trying to defy gravity.
"You have got to be kidding me." She looked back up at him in shock. "You want me to wear… that?"
David held the items up proudly, completely unbothered by her reaction.
"That??" His voice dripping with mock reverence. "That, Maddie Hayes, is a classic piece of sports history. A vintage, authentic, 1974 World Series sweater and a pair of well-loved matching bottoms. What more could you ask for?"
"What more could I ask for?" Maddie shot him a look. This was not happening. "Maybe something with…with… fewer holes?"
"Hey, I happen to think they add character," David said with a grin. He stepped closer, offering the clothes to her. He raised an eyebrow.
"You'd look incredible, trust me."
Maddie squinted her eyes, knowing full well he was going to milk this for all it was worth. Maybe a little diplomacy would work.
"David, I'm sure there must be something else that I could borrow. Can we please just handle this like adults?"
David leaned in closer, his grin growing impossibly wider.
"Well, it's either this, or you sleep in that blouse, which, by the way, looks like it's been through a few boardroom wars already."
Maddie glared at him, the wheels in her mind turning as she contemplated her options. "I'd rather freeze."
Her eyes darted between the sweatpants and the sweater, mortified. Her cheeks flushed despite herself. She was too tired to fight him on this. The truth was, she was cold, and the fire wasn't going to be enough once the night settled in fully. Still, the idea of wearing David's old clothes—his clothes—felt like crossing a line she didn't want to cross. But exhaustion won out over her pride.
After shooting him a look that could have melted snow, Maddie retreated to the small bathroom to change. The door slammed behind her, and David leaned back against the sofa, chuckling under his breath. He could almost hear her muttering inside the bathroom, pacing back and forth as she weighed her options. He could imagine her scowling at the sight of the sweater, holding it up like it might bite her. It was classic Maddie—so tightly wound, so determined to maintain her dignity, and yet, here they were, stuck together in the middle of nowhere. There was no way she was getting out of this one.
The door closed with a firm click, and she leaned against it for a moment, breathing in deeply. It was all too much—the grief, the tension, the constant front she was trying to hold up. And now this—wearing David's clothes like some sitcom cliché. The thought alone would've been laughable, if not for the fact that she was just too damn tired to find it funny.
She peeled off her blouse and skirt, letting them fall into a heap on the floor. She glanced at the sweater in her hands, feeling the worn softness between her fingers. It smelled like him—faintly of soap and aftershave, that subtle scent she'd grown accustomed to when they were close, working together. Doing other things together. A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of her lips despite herself.
The top was ridiculously big on her, hanging loosely over her frame and falling just past her hips. She pulled on the sweatpants, which were equally oversized and frayed at the edges. She looked like a mismatched caricature of herself—Maddie Hayes, former model and executive, now in the middle of the woods, dressed like someone's college roommate after a long night out.
With one last glance in the mirror, she let out a resigned sigh and stepped out of the bathroom.
David was stoking the fire when she emerged, and he turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of her in his clothes. His grin, which was already annoyingly present, stretched even wider.
"Well, well, well. It's a whole new you!"
There she was, standing in the middle of the room, wearing his old Phillies clothes—three sizes too big, the hem hitting just above her knees—and the cut-off sweatpants, which were hanging awkwardly around her hips. Her hair was a mess, and the scowl on her face could've melted the mountainside.
"Well?" she demanded, arms in the air. "Happy now?"
David struggled to keep a straight face, leaning back against the couch as he gave her a once-over. "Wow. I've never seen anyone make my clothes look so good."
Maddie's glare could've frozen lava.
"You are loving this, aren't you?"
David smirked. "Loving is an understatement. This is better than my best dream."
Maddie scowled, trying her best to look intimidating despite the ridiculous outfit. "Don't say a word."
David held up his hands in mock surrender.
"I've gotta say, it's got that whole casual, off-duty look going for you. Phillies sweater and frayed sweatpants? It's practically runway material." Maddie shot him a sideways glance.
"Runway material? Do you actually think this counts as clothing?"
David shrugged nonchalantly. "Fashion's subjective, right?"
She folded her arms across her chest, which only served to stretch the Phillies logo across her front even more. "You are insufferable."
"And you…," he said, standing up and walking over to her with an exaggerated swagger, "you look… adorable."
Maddie's squinted. "Oh no. No, no, no. Don't you dare call me adorable, Addison. I am not—"
"Adorable," David finished for her, nodding sagely as he circled her. "Cute. Sexy, even. But definitely adorable."
He found himself staring at Maddie in his old sweater, the image both endearing and oddly intimate. She looked vulnerable. And yes, adorable. For a moment, the teasing was gone, replaced by something warmer. David's gaze softened. And despite himself, he felt something stir in him that was more than just amusement.
She groaned, dramatically covering her face with her hands. "I cannot believe this is happening."
"Come on, Maddie," David teased, leaning in closer, his grin widening. "Don't tell me you're not secretly loving it."
She looked up at him, "Oh, I'm loving it, all right. It's the highlight of my life. Every woman's dream, being stranded in a cabin, wearing the world's ugliest sweatpants."
David added, nudging her lightly. "And admit it—you're a little impressed I had a backup wardrobe."
"Impressed? Me? By you?"
Maddie rolled her eyes, but the tension between them had finally eased. She wasn't as stiff anymore, and her edge had softened, just a bit. It was subtle, but David could tell she was starting to relax—whether she wanted to admit it or not. He chuckled but mercifully dropped the subject.
"Come on, sit down. I'll get the tea going."
Maddie hesitated for a moment, eyeing the couch warily as though sitting down might mean she was admitting defeat. But then she let out a small sigh, walking over to the sofa and plopping down with more grace than she intended. "Fine. But only because I'm too tired to argue with you anymore."
David grinned, sitting down beside her. "I'll take that as a win."
Maddie smirked, pulling the oversized sweater down over her knees as she settled into the cushions. "Don't get too comfortable. I'm still mortified."
"Adorable…," David countered again, earning himself another exaggerated eye roll.
"I hate you," Maddie shot back, though there was no venom in her words this time.
Maddie sat on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, and watched as David busied himself in the small kitchen, putting water on the stove and rummaging through the nearly bare cupboards. The firelight casted a soft glow that made the cabin feel almost… comforting. She hated to admit it, but despite everything, she felt safer here. Maybe it was the distance from the world, from her house, from all the memories. Or maybe it was David—his presence, irritating as it could be, had a way of grounding her when she felt like she was about to spin out of control.
David returned a few minutes later with two mismatched mugs in hand. He handed one to Maddie, the warmth of the tea radiating through the ceramic and into her cold fingers. "Chamomile," he said, sitting down beside her. "Didn't want to risk the mystery herb. You've been through enough tonight without turning into a toad."
She smiled faintly, staring into the steaming liquid. "Thank you."
He leaned back against the couch, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "No need to thank me. Just doing my part."
Maddie took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through her, soothing her in a way she hadn't expected. She didn't look at him, but she could feel his presence next to her—calming, steady. It was so unlike the David she usually knew, the one who was constantly pushing her buttons, poking fun, driving her up the wall.
"I still can't believe you dragged me all the way up here without so much as a toothbrush."
David threw his hands up in mock innocence. "But I did bring you the next best thing—my irresistible charm."
Maddie let out a snort. "Charm? You mean that thing that gets you punched in bars and slapped by ex-girlfriends?"
"Details, details." He waved her off, his voice quieter now. "Sorry, there's not much to eat," he said after a moment, "I wasn't really planning this. Just kind of… happened."
She nodded, still staring into her tea. "It's fine. This is fine."
There was a long pause, the only sound coming from the fire and the occasional soft clink of their mugs against the coffee table. Maddie stared into the flames, her mind racing with thoughts she didn't want to face.
David broke the silence first, his voice softer than she'd heard in a long time. "You know, I didn't bring you here to push you or make things harder. I just… thought you needed to get away for a while."
Maddie's lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. But admitting it out loud felt too vulnerable, too raw. Instead, she took another sip of tea and shrugged. "It's been some long few weeks."
He nodded slowly, understanding in his eyes. "Yeah. I get it."
Maddie swallowed; her throat tight. She wasn't sure why, but something about the way he said it—the genuine care in his voice—broke through the wall she'd been holding up for weeks. She didn't respond, but her eyes, heavy with unshed tears, flicked to him for the briefest moment before returning to the fire.
David didn't notice. He wasn't looking at her.
Instead, they sat there in silence, sipping tea and watching the flames dance, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them like a fragile truce in the middle of the mountains. And for once, she was grateful for that. The isolation of the cabin in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but endless trees and silence, had started to work its magic.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Maddie Hayes was beginning to relax. She was curled up on the old, threadbare couch, her legs tucked underneath her, her head resting on the armrest. The oversized sweater hung loosely on her frame, the fabric soft from years of wear. Maddie had fought the idea of wearing it, had resisted the vulnerability of being dressed in something of his, but exhaustion had won. Now, as she sank deeper into the cushions, her eyelids grew heavier, and her resistance to the situation was waning.
David sat on the floor by the fire, stoking the flames and glancing over at her every so often. She looked… fragile. Not the Maddie he was used to. Not the woman who took on the world with fire in her eyes and steel in her spine. No, this Maddie was different. She was spent. Worn out from weeks of trying to hold herself together, from pretending everything was fine when nothing was.
The air between them was heavy—not with tension, but with something deeper, something raw. Vulnerability. He didn't know how to handle that with Maddie. He was used to their banter, their back-and-forth, the way they pushed each other to the edge without ever tipping over. But this? Seeing her like this, so quiet, so distant, it unnerved him.
"Maddie," he said softly, breaking the silence. "Why don't you take the bedroom?"
She blinked, her eyes fluttering open as though she'd been on the verge of falling asleep. "What?" she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness.
David stood up, brushing his hands off on his jeans as he walked over to her. "The bed," he said, a little more gently this time. "It's more comfortable than that couch. And I'll take the couch. It's fine."
She hesitated, looking up at him with eyes that were clouded by fatigue but still held that flicker of pride. "Oh, I don't want to—"
"Maddie." He cut her off, but his tone was kind, not sharp. "You're exhausted. Take the bed. Please."
For a moment, she just looked at him, as though trying to figure out if she should argue, if she should maintain some semblance of control. But then, finally, she gave a small nod. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
David smiled, relieved that she wasn't going to fight him on this. "Come on," he said, offering her a hand to help her up.
She took it, her grip light and hesitant, and he gently pulled her to her feet. The moment her feet touched the floor, she swayed slightly, and David's hand instinctively went to her elbow, steadying her.
"Wow, you okay?" he asked, his voice low, concerned.
"Yeah," she said quickly, brushing it off as though her body's betrayal of her exhaustion didn't matter. "Just… tired."
He nodded, not pushing her further. "I'll grab some extra blankets for you, just in case," he said, moving toward the small closet in the hallway.
As he rummaged through the closet, pulling out an armful of blankets, he kept stealing glances at Maddie. She stood in the middle of the room, looking so out of place in his old clothes, her blonde hair slightly tousled from sleep. She looked vulnerable in a way he had never seen before, and it tugged at something deep inside him.
When he returned to her, he held out the blankets with a playful smile. "Here. All the comforts of home," he said, trying to inject some lightness into the moment.
Maddie took the blankets with a small, grateful smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks," she murmured, clutching them to her chest as though they were a shield against the exhaustion and emotions she had been trying to keep at bay.
"The sheets are clean, I swear," David said, grinning, though there was a softness in his tone. "Washed them myself… five years ago, maybe."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in her expression. "Oh, good. That's comforting."
David chuckled. "If you need anything, I'll be right here on the couch. Just… yell, scream, throw a pillow at me. Your shoes. Whatever works."
Maddie nodded, her eyes heavy-lidded again. "I'll be fine."
But David wasn't so sure. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing, both physically and emotionally. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell her that she didn't have to carry everything on her own, but the words felt heavy in his throat, stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth. So instead, he just stood there, watching her as she turned toward the bedroom, moving like a shadow across the floor.
When she reached the door, she paused, her hand resting on the frame. "David?"
"Yeah?"
She didn't look back at him, but her voice was soft, almost shy. "Thanks. For… everything."
He swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the simple gratitude in her words. "Anytime, Maddie. Really."
She disappeared into the bedroom, the door closing softly behind her. David stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. He wanted to go after her, to hold her, to tell her that it was okay to fall apart, that he'd be there to help her pick up the pieces. But he didn't. Instead, he walked over to the couch, threw a blanket over himself, and settled in for what he knew would be a long, restless night.
