Chapter 4 His Girl

The ride is quiet.

Thankfully, Jaxson gives me some peace by not saying a single word. I also make sure of it in my own little way by sitting in the back seat instead of beside him.

I press my forehead against the glass of the window, my mind drifting back to Derek, no matter how hard I try to drag it somewhere else.

Three years of love, or so I thought. It was a bloody lie. All of it. He hadn't just broken my heart, he had chosen to discard me too. Rip the bandage off. That’s how he viewed our entire relationship.

My eyes pool with hot tears. I blink the tears back rapidly until the lump in my throat eases. I cannot cry in Jaxson Vane’s presence. He already thinks I’m a tightly wound little bird. I cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely broken.

When the car finally stops, I look out the window and my heart squeezes a little. It’s my building. Or, rather, it’s the building I thought was going to be my first home.

I reach for the door handle and scramble out before Jaxson can even turn off the engine. But the moment my feet hit the ground, I hear his own door open and close. He steps out, his dark eyes instantly locking onto mine.

"Why are you getting out?" I ask, frowning.

"To help you pack, of course," he says, pulling his shoulders back. "You can't possibly carry everything alone, Bennett. You have weak wrists. You'll be in there the whole day."

"My wrists are perfectly fine," I cross my arms. "And I don't need your help. If I need you, I’ll call you."

"Right. Because you're so good at asking for help." He takes a step closer, looking down at me. "You look like a stiff breeze could snap you in half right now, Princess. Allow me help you."

"I am not a child, Jaxson. I can very well manage without a hockey player acting as my personal chauffeur."

"Hm," he says, leaning his hip against the driver's side door. "So you're all grown. Tell me, what’s the logical play here? Walking into an apartment with a guy who cheated on you, completely unprotected, or taking the six-foot-three muscle standing right in front of you?"

"The logical play is for you to stay in this car, keep the engine running, and mind your own business."

"See, that's where your diagnosis is wrong," he murmurs, his eyes sparkling amusingly. "My business is making sure my new tutor doesn't get her hands broken by a bitter ex. I need that passing grade, Bennett. My draft depends on it. So technically, your safety is a corporate investment."

"I am not an investment," I hiss. "Stay. Here."

"I'll give you ten minutes," he says, tapping the face of his watch. "If you're not down here with a box by then, I'm coming up. And trust me, I don't knock gently."

I turn around, walking away, my spine stiff. By the time I reach the apartment door, my hands are shaking. I take a deep breath and push the door open.

Derek is already standing right there in the small living room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looks pissed.

"Hi, Derek," I say, my teeth clenched hard.

"What's it been, Maddie?" he asks, bitterly, gesturing wildly toward the window. "It hasn't even been twelve hours since you walked out, and you're already jumping into the bed of another man?"

I blink, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw him, Maddie," he says, and my heart gives a squeeze at the familiar nickname. "The guy who just dropped you off. The hockey player. We haven't even broken up officially, and you're already riding around in his car, letting him chauffeur you to my place."

"We are not sleeping together," I say, taking a step forward. The sheer hypocrisy of his words make my blood boil. "And even if we were, you don't get to have an opinion, Derek. You cheated on me for nine months with Kayla. In this exact apartment. You don't get to stand there and play the role of the wounded fiancé."

"I'm not saying I'm not wrong." His face flushes, turning red. "I'm saying you're acting like a saint when you're clearly not any better. You walked out of here like I was a monster and then went straight to a guy like that? It proves my point, Maddie. You were never present. You probably had him lined up the whole time."

My jaw drops. The audacity. I let out a sigh, refusing to lose my temper

"I'm not here for the talks, Derek," I say, stepping past him toward the bedroom. "I am here to get my things, and then I am leaving you to enjoy the wreckage of your own life."

"Wait." He moves, blocking the hallway. His voice drops, the anger draining out of it as fast as it came. "I lied to you on the phone. I don't want you to get your things. I don't want you to move out."

I freeze. "What are you talking about?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. "But I didn't know how else to get you to come here. I figured if I told you the truth, you wouldn't want to see my face again. I knew you'd delete my texts."

"You... you lied?" He didn't want me to get my things. He hadn't packed anything. He had just baited a trap. "You used my belongings to manipulate me into coming back here?"

"I did," he says, taking a step closer, reaching out as if to touch my arm. I flinch back, and his hand drops. "And I'm sorry. I really am. I just... I needed to see you. I want to speak to you properly and apologize. I didn't sleep at all last night, Maddie. The apartment is so empty without you."

"There is nothing left to speak about," I say, my chest heaving. "And I don't care if it was a lie or not. I'm here now, and I am getting my things."

"No, please." He holds my hand firmly. "Please don't do this, Maddie. Don't leave like this. Give me five minutes."

"Let go of me." I twist my wrist free, and he lets it go almost immediately, like some part of him knows exactly how it looks. "You don't get to touch me, Derek. Not after what you did."

"Maddie, please—"

The door behind me flies back, the handle smacking violently against the drywall.

The sudden crash echoes through the small apartment, cutting Derek off instantly.

I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat.

Jaxson Vane is in the doorway. He’s leaning casually against the frame, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his dark jacket. His dark eyes slowly track from the dent in the wall, to Derek’s hands still hovering near my shoulders, and finally to Derek’s face.

"Take your hands off my girl," Jax says, his deep voice carrying a terrifyingly smooth weight. "Right now."

I freeze, my brain ceasing to function.

His—His girl?