Chapter 9 – White Friday
David lay in bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. He hadn't slept well, if at all. His eyes fluttered open briefly before shutting again. Clearly mind wasn't quite ready to embrace the morning just yet.
He reached his arm out instinctively to where Maddie had been lying beside him, searching for warmth that wasn't there. His fingers only brushed against the cool, rumpled sheets that looked like they'd been tossed and turned in, restless and unsettled, much like the night had been for him. He stared at the emptiness for a long moment. There was something depressing about that hollow space.
Throwing his arm over his face, David closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. The events of the night before came rushing back in jagged, painful pieces. The things that were said. The things that could not be unsaid. The confessions, the heartache. She wasn't ready for him to break through. But he had pushed, and now he had to sit with the consequences. With a groan, David swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing his hands over his tired face.
The wood floor creaked softly under his weight as he padded through the cabin. As he moved, he wondered where Maddie had gone, not sure that he could handle another showdown. Jeez not again, it was way too early for that.
A small flicker of motion on the porch outside caught his eye as he made his way through the living area. He approached the window cautiously, not wanting to intrude. There she was, sitting on the small wooden bench outside the cabin, tightly cocooned in a thick, woollen blanket. Her knees were pulled up slightly, and she was staring out at the horizon in silence, as if lost in her thoughts. She looked so still, so peaceful. David stood there, watching her quietly from the inside. His presence had not been noticed by her yet, and for a moment, he hesitated. There was something fragile about the moment, as if one wrong move might shatter it.
Tousled hair, no makeup, her eyes tired but soft. Not the polished, perfect Maddie Hayes that the world saw, but herself. Bare. No façade. Something about her in these unguarded moments got to him. Every damn time. The cold had turned her nose and cheeks a little red, and she shifted beneath the blanket, seeking for its warmth envelop her.
David took a deep breath. Something stirred deep inside him, stronger than the physical attraction that had always simmered between them. No one had ever gotten under his skin the way Maddie did. No one had ever made everything, anything, feel so… intense. A connection that ran deeper than either of them could understand. They were forever intertwined, for better or for worse. For all the pain and heartache, for all the love and laughter.
We sure have a talent to mess things up, don't we Blondie?
He decided to make himself known, even though part of him wanted to keep watching her in this quiet moment. Slowly, he reached for the cabin door and opened it, the squeak of the hinges breaking the stillness of the early morning air.
The sky was still heavy with the last moments of dawn. That brief, magical time in soft light where the night hadn't quite let go of the world, and the day hadn't fully arrived.
Maddie turned her head at the sound, startled out of her thoughts. She blinked, her eyes still soft with whatever she had been thinking about, and when she saw David, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It was a sad smile, full of everything that had happened between them only a few hours ago, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
David stepped out onto the porch, feeling the chill in the air hit him immediately. He crossed his arms on his chest and gave her a tentative smile back, but neither of them said anything for a while. Their eyes met for a brief moment before both of them looked away, the weight of the previous night still lingering between them.
"Looking for an escape plan, I presume." David cleared his throat, trying to start the conversation with something light. "Was I snoring that bad?"
Maddie's eyes were on her lap.
"Like a congested warthog," she responded, trying to keep the lightness with a faint smirk. "I couldn't sleep anyway."
David looked down at his hands and moved toward her slowly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it. He wasn't good with words when it came to moments like this.
"I guess neither of us could".
Maddie nodded slightly, staring at the horizon. Another stretch of silence followed, thick and heavy. Maddie's fumbling fingers were gripping the edge of the blanket. David could see the struggle in her eyes—the same struggle he was feeling. Her voice was low but steady as she tilted her head.
"Do you want to share half the blanket…?" She took a breath, giving him a warm, if tired, smile. "You look like you're freezing standing there."
David blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. For a split second, his trademark smirk faltered, but then it returned, the corners of his mouth tugging up, spreading across his face like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Freezing? Nah. Born and bred in Philly. Don't feel the cold…" David shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as he had noticeably started to shiver from the chill.
Maddie rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smile despite herself. "I'm not offering again. Take it or leave it."
"Oh, I'm taking it," David said quickly, sliding onto the bench beside her. "Alright." He fumbled awkwardly for a moment, trying to fit himself under the blanket, but eventually managed to snuggle in next to her. His shoulder brushed against hers, and they both paused.
"So, what's screening today? Bring any popcorn? Tell me it's not of those nature documentaries with wolves attacking something cute and fluffy."
Maddie chuckled softly, shaking her head as she shifted to make room. She glanced toward the horizon, where the moon hung faintly in the sky, fading as the sun slowly began to creep over casting the world in soft pinks and golds. "I think we're in for a sunrise," she said, her voice light, "I hear it's a classic."
They both looked ahead, the horizon beginning to glow brighter as the sun continued its slow rise. David raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
"Well, look at that. We scored the best seats in the house."
Maddie hugged the blanket closer to her, her eyes on the horizon where the first rays of sunlight were spilling over the treetops. She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cool morning air.
"Here comes the sun…" Her voice was soft, contemplative, as if she was thinking out loud rather than trying to spark conversation. David turned his head slightly to follow her gaze, watching as the sun climbed higher, casting a warm, amber light over the mountains. He stayed quiet, waiting. Then Maddie shifted her gaze to the opposite side, gesturing toward the pale, retreating moon. "And there's the moon, still hanging right over there." Her voice carried a touch of amusement, though it was gentle, almost resigned. "Funny, huh?"
"Both sharing one space," David said finally.
Maddie offered him a small smile, softness in her eyes, like she was taking in the significance of what he'd just said. They sat there for a beat in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people who had already shared enough words for a while.
David turned to look at Maddie, his gaze soft, searching.
"Hey," he asked, quiet and sincere. "You okay?"
She met his eyes, her own gaze tired but warm. She could see the concern in his expression, the way he was holding back, afraid to push too hard again. After everything that had happened the night before, after the emotional rawness, it was a lot to process. But in this moment, wrapped in the blanket with him, she felt… right. Just being. She let a deep breath out.
"I don't know," she said honestly, her voice barely above a whisper. They sat in silence for a while longer, watching as the sky turned brighter and the day officially began. The awkwardness had faded, replaced by a quiet understanding. The pain of the previous night softened by the rising sun and the comfortable closeness. "But I think I will be." David glanced at Maddie, catching her in a quiet moment of thought, her expression more relaxed than it had been in a long time.
The dawn was now a quiet spectacle, the sky painted with soft hues of pink and gold. David watched the horizon with a faint smirk playing on his lips, his gaze flicking between the sun climbing its way into the sky and the moon slowly fading in the opposite direction.
"Hey," he broke the silence with a question, his voice low and thoughtful. "You ever think about who's who?"
Maddie frowned, her brow furrowing slightly as she turned her head just enough to acknowledge him without breaking her view of the dawn. "What do you mean?"
David's smirk grew a little, amused by her confusion.
"You know... The sun. The moon. Which one's me. Which one's you. Opposites stuck in the same orbit. One rising, one falling. Constantly."
Maddie's lips twitched as she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture of recognition. She stayed quiet for a few beats, considering his words as the air between them shifted, filled with a subtle charge. Finally, she glanced at him briefly, a bemused half-smile forming on her lips. She took a few moments before responding, letting the weight of his observation sink in.
"You? Definitely the moon, Addison." she murmured, "A nocturnal creature," her tone playful yet suggestive. "You have an awful lot of stamina at night. Endless enthusiasm I must say..."
David's smirk turned into something deeper, a small chuckle escaping him. He didn't look at her, still staring out at the horizon. Savouring the playful tension between them.
"I'd say you're probably right, Ms. Hayes." He took a slow breath, but his grin was unmistakable. "You are definitely the sun."
"Oh yeah?" she asked playfully, "How so?"
"Well," he paused for dramatic effect, "See how the the moon is hanging lower now… while the sun's climbing higher, right up top," A moment of silence. "That month... our month... you always seemed to enjoy climbing your way to the top at the crack of dawn, too… and, uh, relished looking down from... above, so to speak... like, every morning." David paused briefly, turning his head slightly to see her reaction. "Actually seemed to enjoy that a lot, as far as I can remember... Not that I'm complaining about being used as your mattress of choice at sunrise... I make a pretty firm foundation, wouldn't you say?"
A deep wave of heat crept up Maddie's face, leaving her mortified. She could feel the sexual tension of the joke between them. Am I blushing? I am blushing. She pressed her lips together, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break free despite her embarrassment. She continued staring ahead, the innuendo hanging in the air, with neither of them rushing to break the moment. When he finally turned his head back and stopped scrutinizing her, his eyes were glinting with that playful spark that she knew so well.
"Well," He stretched his arms out of the blanket with an exaggerated yawn, "if we're going to face this brand-new day, I think we could both do with some caffeine." He stood up next to her and offered her his hand, looking at her intentionally.
"Time to ride and shine, Lady Godiva," the nickname falling from his lips with a teasing lilt. Maddie looked at his outstretched hand, then at him. Did he just call me Lady Godiva? Their eyes met for a moment, a mix of flustered and amused, and everything seemed to still. Suppressing a chuckle, she took it, feeling the warmth of his fingers curl around hers.
"How do you feel about a cup of my world-famous cabin coffee?"
Maddie turned to him, an eyebrow raised, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Your wold famous coffee? You mean that stuff that could strip the varnish off the furniture?"
"Let's just say it's liquid courage—essential for getting you through the day. You'd be yawning at my best comebacks without it." David kept on talking in mocking seriousness, stepping inside the cabin.
"I'll stick to my cappuccinos, thank you." said Maddie, as she followed him inside.
"Coffee snob," David shot back playfully.
"Excuse me? A snob? Maddie let out a quick gasp, pretending to be offended. "Just because I don't drink crude oil for breakfast doesn't make me a snob, David. There's nothing wrong with a little… refinement."
"Refinement? Those fancy cups held with a pinky finger out? They are like coffee in a tuxedo. Strip it down, and it's only a bean with an attitude."
"An attitude?" Maddie gave him a mock look, "David, my coffee is a delicate balance between bold flavour and smooth texture. Not… whatever toxic sludge you're brewing over there."
David watched her with a smirk as she took to the couch, folding up the blanket that wrapped them both a few minutes ago. Just the two of them, lost in their small banter, teasing each other like old times. The air inside the cabin felt comfortably... domestic. As if the quiet moments from earlier had settled into the walls themselves. He walked towards the kitchen, where he rummaged through a small cabinet. He turned around with a playful grin after pulling out two mugs that had clearly seen better times, one missing a handle, holding them up like a game show host displaying prizes.
"Alright Maddie, your choice: the cracked one, or the one that gives your fingers a hardcore sauna session?" he asked, teasingly apologetic.
Maddie's eyes rolled up in mocked exasperation. "I'll take the one without the handle, thank you," she replied, dryly amused. "Maybe it can warm up my hands a little."
She moved forward, rubbing her hands together rapidly. They were still cold after watching the sunrise outside. David gave her the handle-less mug, casually raising an eyebrow.
"You know what they say... cold hands—"
Maddie's eyes meet his, catching the flirtation in his tone.
"… warm heart," they both replied at the same time with a hint of a challenge, before exchanging an affectionate smile.
It was in that moment that Maddie noticed David grimacing as he rolled his shoulder, trying to hide the discomfort that etched across his face. He stretched, wincing again, and her brows knitted together with concern.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice casual but laced with genuine curiosity.
David shrugged, the movement making him wince once more. "Just a little souvenir from yesterday," he said with a pained smile. "Pulled a muscle while cleaning out the stalls. Nothing a little time won't fix."
Maddie paused, considering him for a moment before speaking. "I can help." David looked at her, raising a quizzical eyebrow. She folded her arms, tilting her head with feigned indifference. "My chiropractor taught me a few things, gave a few tips."
"Chiropractor, huh?"
Their eyes remained locked for a moment. "Want my help, or not?" she asked, arching her eyebrows. David grinned, the spark between them crackling. "I'll take whatever you're offering, Miss Hayes."
"Careful, Addison. I don't come cheap." But she couldn't hide the small smile that lingered. "Alright, come over here and sit down."
David shifted uncomfortably in the chair as Maddie stood behind him. "Relax, David," she said, her voice laced with teasing. "This will only hurt a little."
He shot a glance over his shoulder. "That's what they all say right before they break you."
Maddie let out a sigh, gently but firmly grabbing his head and turning it back to face forward. "Face front, and stop squirming," she instructed, her voice mock-stern.
She pressed her thumbs into a particularly tight knot at the base of his neck, feeling the muscle tense beneath her touch. He sucked in a breath, wincing slightly. Maddie's hands worked their way across his shoulders, finding and kneading tension with surprising skill. He bit back a groan as she applied just the right amount of pressure, equal parts relief and discomfort washing over him.
"Ow! Careful lady!"
"Sorry."
"That's a hot spot."
"You have lots of them."
"Watch out, or they might heat up more than either of us planned."
"David, if you want me to stop, just say the word," she said, her tone light but challenging.
"No, no, please don't."
"Good. Then stop yapping and let me do my work."
"Yes, ma'am." His voice was low, teasing.
Her hands continued their careful work, and as David settled into the rhythm of her touch, he felt his defenses slipping away. He was content to let the silence do the talking. At least until he couldn't resist one more comment.
"I'm starting to think this is the best pain I've ever felt," he said, barely above a whisper. "Just so you know."
"Keep talking, and I might reconsider."
"Worth it," he murmured, his voice both playful and grateful.
David had to admit that she had done a good job. His shoulder felt pretty much back to normal. Maddie was back sitting on the sofa, and he approached the fire mantel slowly, casually leaning against it. His eyes were bright with curiosity. There was a glint in his gaze that Maddie knew all too well—the spark of a cat who'd just found a mouse to play with.
"So, you were saying…" David began, "about your chiropractor." The words dripping with mock innocence, "Mrs. Miracle Hands… she any good?"
Maddie nodded, a coy smile playing at her lips. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke. "Well, she is actually a he."
David's eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face before quickly being replaced by a teasing smirk. "Oh, I see… So— is he, any good?"
She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Dr. Bruce? Yes, he is. Excellent, actually."
David leaned in, unable to resist the banter. "Oh, le docteur Bruce…" his voice dropping into a mock French accent. "Good technique, I take it?"
"Fantastic," she replied, meeting his eyes, her tone smooth as silk.
"Just fantastic?" David pressed, his voice dropping lower, teasingly.
She held his gaze, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Terrific."
"Upper or lower back?" he asked, his eyes glinting.
"Lower," Maddie said, not missing a beat.
"How low?" He leaned in even closer, his voice soft and full of suggestion.
Maddie didn't flinch. "Low enough." She leaned in, a playful smirk playing on her lips.
David's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, barely suppressing his grin. "Border—low? El Paso—low?"
"Sometimes Ciudad Juarez, if necessary," she shot back, her voice dripping with suggestion.
David chuckled, pretending to wipe his brow. "Straight to the trigger points?"
"He takes his time getting there." Her eyes never leaving his.
"Good pressure?"
"Deep."
David's eyes narrowed slightly, barely suppressing his grin. "Issue resolved? Over and done with?" His tone was light, but his stare was anything but.
She hesitated, then leaned in. "For the most part," she said with a small, knowing smile. "But I like to go in for… maintenance care, every once in a while."
David chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Sounds like magic fingers. High demand I presume. Hard to get an appointment?"
Maddie's smile widened. "Oh, he always finds a way to squeeze me in."
David leaned back, letting out a soft laugh. "I'm sure he does. Le docteur sounds like a real thorough professional."
"Extremely."
"Ouch," David muttered, his voice low but amused, as if he'd been caught in his own trap.
Sparks crackled in the silence between them, daring one of them to make the next move. Their eyes remained locked, and the heat of their innuendo seemed to have made the room warmer, tightening every breath they took. Maddie's gaze was intense, a flirtatious challenge shining in her smile. David's eyes never wavered, piercing through her with a knowing glint and a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Well…" Maddie said, her voice soft but charged.
"Well…" David echoed, unable to keep the grin off his face. The tension lingered, sizzling between them as they shared a moment of unspoken, electric understanding.
Maddie gave him a coy smile and a flirty look as she made her way past him towards the stove to pour herself a cup of coffee. You are going to die wondering, David.
She was totally unaware of his gaze on her back.
He watched her, his eyes following every movement. Deceptively relaxed in his posture as his smile faltered, the playful mask slipping away.
The idea of another man's hands on Maddie's bare back, that back he knew so well—a stranger, a lover, a chiropractor, anyone who wasn't him—sent a pang of something raw through his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts spiralling. It's irrational, he knew that. Why is this even bothering me? They weren't together. Not really. Sure, they've shared moments—fleeting, beautiful, and impossibly complicated moments—but they always kept themselves at arm's length. They were good at that. And yet, the thought of her finding comfort elsewhere, of her letting someone else in, was tearing at him. She could have anyone, he reminded himself. Look at her. She was right to move on.
The misery, anger and weariness, in that order, that he had felt after Maddie ran away without even saying goodbye, pregnant with his child, and then came back married to a complete stranger rushed back to his mind. It was nuts. She was nuts! Loca. Insane.
Insane.
How had he not seen it?
How had he not realized that Maddie wasn't well; that she needed help. That the intensity of their relationship had sent her into overdrive, to the point of making her lose her mind completely.
The truth was, he hadn't, and at that particular moment he hadn't cared either. He had reacted like a wounded animal instead; lashing out, mocking her, trying to make her feel as small and hurt as he did. He had laughed at her. At poor Walter too. That shambolic "wedding" he had orchestrated; a spiteful display meant to humiliate her, to prove some twisted point, allowing her own employees to join the public bashing. Maddie losing her baby after the fragile attempts she made to pull herself back together. Lecturing her sanctimoniously about being immature, only for him to find solace in her married cousin—of all women out there—whose only real appeal to him had been her maiden name. Petty. Cruel. He had torn her down when she was already breaking, just so he could lick his bruised ego in plain sight.
And Maddie had gone through it all, too lost in her own derangement to even hear the mocking laughter around her, like a deaf child in a dunce cap facing the entire class.
Dropping his eyes to the floor, he thought of her parents, Alex and Virginia. They would be absolutely devastated if they knew. He hated himself for it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a slight movement. Maddie turned around cradling the handle-less coffee mug in her hands, steam curling lazily into the air. He must have looked like he's a million miles away because her voice was soft, curious, her brows furrowing slightly.
"Is everything okay?"
The sound of her voice jolts him back to the present. "What? Oh, yes, sorry," he said, forcing a smile.
Maddie took a step closer, her eyes searching his face. For a moment, he wondered if she could see through him. But she just nodded, lifting the mug to her lips and blowing on the hot liquid.
"Trying to warm up my hands," she said, her voice light, as if nothing had changed.
David watched her. He looked at her, really looked at her. Strong, resilient, and still so guarded. There's so much he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to begin. She deserves better than him; a man who's done nothing but plunge her life into turmoil since the day they met. Maybe he should've held back that one last retort. Maybe skipped that night at the bar and stayed to help her with the company accounts. Leaving that one rose on her desk. Maybe he should have stayed away from the restaurant that night. Let Sam try to make her happy instead of miserable. He wanted to apologize—for all the maybes. For the times he hurt her, for the times he didn't show up when she needed him most, for the times he made everything harder instead of easier. For everything.
His voice was low and raspy when he murmured the words.
"I'm sorry, Maddie."
Maddie tilted her head, glancing at him quizzically over the rim of her mug.
"What for?"
There was a moment of silence, the fire crackling in the background. The distance between them filled with years of mistakes. He wanted to tell her everything—how much she still meant to him, how much he still cared. How much he regretted the pain they've caused each other. Hoping that somehow, she could see what he was too afraid to say.
"For… a lot of things."
David's low and husky voice gave away more than he expected.
Maddie stared at him for a moment, before blinking rapidly as a wave of realization washed over her, understanding exactly what all this was about. Her lips quivered slightly as she looked at David with a mix of melancholy, sadness, and a hint of love. She bit her lower lip before letting out a soft, shaky breath.
Her sad gaze found his, and in that moment, all she saw was sincerity. She offered him a weary, tender smile. David couldn't take his eyes off her, noticing the fine lines around her eyes that hadn't been there when they first met. The shadows beneath them. Slowly, he reached out, his hand tucking a stray strand of her blonde hair behind her ear before gently brushing his thumb along her cheekbone. Maddie never broke her stare, full of unspoken emotion. She lifted her hand to hold his wrist, pressing it gently against her face as she closed her eyes, swallowing hard. A single tear threatened to fall but held back. Turning her head slightly, she placed a delicate kiss on his hand before opening her eyes again.
"I'm sorry too."
A sudden noise startled them both back to reality. Their heads turned quickly toward the fireplace, just in time to see the kitten dangling from a pair of jeans on the drying rack. The heap of clothes came tumbling down as the rack toppled, burying the tiny feline beneath the pile. A soft meow pierced the air as the kitten wriggled free from the pile, triumphantly dragging one of David's socks along. It pounced on it with fierce determination, tumbling over itself in playful combat. Maddie burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You little rascal," she said affectionately. "What are we going to do with you."
David looked at the playful kitten with a lopsided smirk. Awesome timing again, buddy.