The Darkest Corner of the Heart (The Brightest Light Book 2)

We reach my car two hours later, Maddie on my back.

She complained about her ankle about half an hour ago, and I welcomed the warmth of her body pressed against mine and her legs around my waist as I carry her like a bookbag. It’s not like she weighs a lot to me, even though she kept insisting that she didn’t want to strain my old man’s back.

I have never resisted such a potent urge to spank somebody’s ass.

She stretches her arms before getting in the car, her background in ballet becoming obvious with her elegant movements. I’ve never seen her dance, but I have the feeling I wouldn’t be able to peel my eyes away from her if I did. It’s difficult enough to do it when she does mundane things.

As soon as we get in the car, I take out my phone and open the music app. “Do you mind if I put on one of my playlists?”

She gives me a smile. “Go ahead.”

The upbeat notes of a song by Pet Shop Boys fills the car as I drive us out of the parking lot. I watch out of the corner of my eye how she does a little happy dance with her head, and my knuckles turn white from tightening my grip on the wheel. A reminder to my hands not to reach out and tuck that loose strand of brown hair behind her ear.

Eyes on the road. You’re going to scare her away.

That daunting thought is enough to keep my hands in place and my mouth shut. Until she says, “This song is cool. Who’s the artist?”

If I weren’t driving, I would’ve turned my head and gaped at her. “Are you kidding me?”

Her carefree chuckle fills the car. “No.”

“Are you seriously telling me you don’t know who Pet Shop Boys are?”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m telling you I don’t know who Taylor Swift is. Now that would be a crime,” she says. “Also, that’s a weird name for a band. Pet Shop Boys? Don’t tell me you like the Zoo Guys too?”

My lips twitch with the beginning of a smirk. “You’ve just insulted several generations and everyone with great music taste.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re ancient.”

“What does that say about you, then? That you hang out with an ancient man.”

She shrugs. “I’ve always felt for the elderly.”

Oh, Maddie. If I weren’t behind the wheel right now…

The song ends and another one by the same group starts. “First you say you don’t want to strain my old man’s back, and then you call me ancient. You do realize I’m only thirty-one, right?”

“Didn’t you hear? Thirty-one is the new ninety-one.”

“Then I’m afraid we’ll be heading straight home. All the sugar in those donuts might kill me.”

“But I thought old guys were gentlemen?” she teases. “And what kind of gentleman goes back on their word after making a promise to their most amazing, funniest, most incredible, most attractive, and most charming friend?”

I can’t fight the smile anymore. “And that friend is supposed to be you?”

“Graham is great, but I’d like to think I’m at least a tiny bit prettier than him.”

“You’re beautiful, Maddie.”

The words escape me before I can think twice about what I’ve just said. Because yes, there’s no doubt she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever met—inside and out—but did I have to run my goddamn mouth?

But because I’m not ready for my stomach to drop to the depths of hell when things inevitably get awkward between us, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “If I’m so ancient, why did you want to hang out with me today?”

I risk a quick glance at her, and I find her already looking at my profile with the same relaxed expression as before. As if me calling her beautiful hadn’t made her want to exit my car and never see me again.

“I happened to remember you are an expert hiker and wanted to see for myself,” she answers, something in her voice shifting. Sounding almost shy.

Maybe it’s our banter, or how easy it is to talk to her, but I find the strength to ask the question that has been nagging me since she sent me that text last night.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” I swallow back the sudden lump in my throat. “That we hang out, I mean.”

“Because I was your patient?” I can hear the confusion in her voice.

“Not only that.” It all comes down to this, doesn’t it? “I’m ten years older than you.”

“I know.”

I use the little time it takes me to overtake a couple of cars to think carefully about my next words. Because I may be overthinking this. All of it. I’ve always frowned upon older men hanging out with younger girls, but when it comes to Maddie…

It’s just her.

I like spending time with her. A lot. Making her laugh, absorbing every small detail about her life, keeping her safe.

“And you don’t find that weird?” I ask once again. “You could be hanging out with your friends today.”

Friends your age.

“I could if I wanted to. But I wanted to hang out with you,” she says, as if it was really that simple. “Does our age difference make you uncomfortable?”

Yes. No. Not exactly.

When she was my patient, sure, because that crossed too many serious boundaries. But now that she isn’t entrusted to my professional care, now that I don’t hold any power over her…

You’re attracted to her. It’s still fucked up.

“James?” She pokes my arm with one of her fingers.

“I know we’re just hanging out,” I start, unsure of where I’m even going with this. “But I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m robbing you from having other experiences. Doing things with your friends a twenty-one-year-old would do. Not hiking with an older man.”

She stays silent for so long, I start wondering if she’s angry with me. If I’ve messed up.

Until a tired sigh reaches my ears.

“You want the truth?” she asks, all the playfulness gone from her voice.

I nod, scared of what she’s going to say but dying to hear it.

“Sometimes…” She pauses and starts again. “Even when you were only my PT and we didn’t hang out like this, it was like… I don’t know. I’ve never felt immature around you, if that makes sense.”

“Because you’re not,” I assure her.

“I don’t always make the best choices,” she concedes, “but I wouldn’t say I’m immature, either. I had to grow up too fast.”

“I get that.”

The urge to reach out and grab her hand in mine has never been so damn strong.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve always treated me as an equal.”

The organ in my chest soars at that. “Because we’re equals, Maddie.”

“I’ve just never related that much to people my age,” she confesses. “Not only because of what happened with my parents, but also because I’ve dedicated my whole life to ballet and that requires discipline. When I was a teenager and my friends attended summer camps or went to the pool, I was at ballet school practicing my ass off.”

She doesn’t say it, but I hear the silent words anyway.

Only for my dream to be ripped away from me at the end.

Little does she know that’s far from the truth. But I don’t push, wanting to hear her talk instead.

“And it stayed the same as I grew older. Do you have any idea how many of my friends got kicked out of a class for being hungover after a night out?” She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’ve always taken ballet seriously. And I’ve never been a big fan of parties or alcohol in the first place, because of…you know, my mom.”

“So, you don’t go out clubbing?” I ask as I take a turn toward the donut shop.

“I used to when I first moved to Norcastle for college, but I only did it during my first year. Just to see what the fuss was all about, but it wasn’t that fun for me,” she explains. “I enjoy the occasional cocktail, but getting blackout drunk and dancing with sweaty strangers isn’t my thing. Been there, done that, have no desire to do it again.”

“And that’s perfectly okay.”

Society isn’t always kind to those in their early twenties who don’t want to be party animals. Some people will even tell them that, if they aren’t going out every weekend, they’re wasting their youth. That’s not true by any means, and I’m glad Maddie doesn’t feel pressured to do anything she doesn’t want.

“You’re not robbing me of any experiences, James,” she says in a firm voice. “We understand each other, and we’re friends. The fact that you’re a cranky old man doesn’t change any of that.”

The donut shop comes into view as I let out a sincere chuckle. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Are you okay with being friends with someone younger?”

“It’s complicated,” I admit, not wanting to lie to her. “We have things in common, sure, but I still feel like we’re in different stages of our lives. It’s not weird, but it’s not entirely normal either.”

Some would even say it’s fucked up.

But why does being with her feel so right if it’s so wrong?

“Jeez, you’re acting like we’re about to get married or something.” She chuckles, and something inside of me jumps. I don’t want to think it’s my heart. “What stage are you in, anyway? Do you want to travel? Have a bunch of kids? It’s not like that would affect our friendship.”

Right. Because the thought of having kids with another woman isn’t making me sick.

What the fuck are you saying?

“I don’t want to travel or have kids right now. I’m happy with my current life.” I clear my throat as I stop behind a red car in the drive-through. “And you?”

Her face falls a little. “I want to find my path, is all.”

“I know you will.”

She hums, unsure. When I turn my head to look at her, at those hazel eyes that are always so attentive, she says, “I’ll tell you to get lost if you ever want to hang out and I don’t. No experiences will be robbed. Pinky promise.”

I don’t hesitate as I hold out my pinky, and she wraps her much smaller one around it. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Her touch lingers for a second too long. “Good.” She gives me a small smile, pulling away. “Do you know if they have jelly donuts here? With strawberry jam?”

They do. Which is a good thing because otherwise I would’ve gone to every donut shop in the state until I found them for her.

Twenty minutes later, the sun is setting as we leave the drive-through. In charge of the playlist this time, Maddie has chosen an old Taylor Swift song when she says, “We need to do this again sometime.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Getting free donuts from me, you mean?” I tease her, adjusting my sunglasses over my eyes.

“That too.” I’m not looking at her, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “But I meant going on a hike. We can try one you’ve never been on before.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve gone on many hikes.” I see her face fall from the corner of my eye. It’s not dramatic, barely there at all, but it kills me all the same. “But I’d love to do this again. You and me.”

“You and me,” she repeats, as if she was tasting the sound of us on her tongue. “It sounds good.”

Yes, it does.

Music fills the space between us during most of the ride. She’s clearly tired, and I wouldn’t mind a shower and an early bedtime either. Despite having spent the last few hours with her, though, I’m not ready to say goodbye. So maybe that’s why it takes us longer than usual to enter Norcastle, and maybe that’s why my car somehow finds itself in the middle of a busy road I didn’t need to take at all.

“Can I ask you something?” Maddie asks out of the blue as we stop in traffic.

“I interrogated you earlier, so it’s only fair.”

“Why did Graham make you a dating profile?”

It doesn’t surprise me she doesn’t beat around the bush, but my stomach jumps all the same. I’m not ready to share the full story, though, no matter how badly I might want to.

When I got injured and lost my career in football, I thought I couldn’t possibly go through something worse. And then I did.

They took care of the parts of me that miraculously remained unbroken and tore them to pieces.

It still hurts to think about it, but for completely different reasons. Reasons I will probably never be ready to tell her about. But I can give her this. “Graham thought it had been too long since I last dated someone.”

I can practically hear the million questions roaming around in that cute head of hers. “How… How long have you been single for?” she finally asks, her voice shy.

I don’t turn to look at her because if I see that innocence mixed with curiosity in her gaze, I won’t be able to hold it together.

“My last serious girlfriend was in college. I must’ve been nineteen or twenty.”

Silence stretches between us, but not for long. “Does that mean you haven’t…?” She stops herself, but I know what she was going to ask. The pressure in my pants knows it too.

I save her from embarrassment by saying, “I’ve had sporadic hookups over the years.” I don’t want to hide that from her, for some reason. “But I haven’t had sex in months, if that’s what you’re asking me. Nine or ten.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, hiding her face in her hands. “James! I was not going to ask that.”

“Sure you weren’t.” I smirk. The car in front of us moves, and for better or for worse, we’re only five minutes away from her apartment. “It’s all right, though. You can ask. I’m not offended.”

“But I’m embarrassed.”

“You’re good, baby.”

It’s not the first time I notice how her breath hitches at the term of endearment, but I don’t ask her why. I don’t think I’m ready to hear the answer.

I’m also not ready to find out when was the last time she had sex, but I know whoever the fucker was, he didn’t deserve an inch of her or her body.

And you do, asshole?

“We’re here.” Her voice pulls me out of my forbidden daydreams, and so does the sight of her building.

The sun casts an orange glow over the empty street, a calm sight so rare in the bustling city. She unbuckles herself from the passenger seat, and I do the same, not really knowing why. Maybe I’m finally going insane.

Five seconds pass, ten, fifteen, and neither of us moves.

“It feels weird,” she starts, her voice low and soothing, eyes glued on the sunset in front of us, “knowing that I won’t see you tomorrow, or the day after. Or the day after that.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. For days I’ve avoided thinking about what I would feel come Monday morning and meeting a new patient, and she’s just put it out in the open because that’s what Maddie does.

What she thinks, she shares. What she wants, she asks for. What she feels, she admits out loud.

For someone so much younger, I could learn a thing or two from her. Or a million.

“It’s going to be weird for me too,” I admit. I’ll miss her like crazy, but I keep that to myself. “I’m still only a text away.”

She slides me an unsure look. “You mean that?”

The fact that there’s a tiny fraction of her that thinks I don’t, kills me.

“Of course, Maddie.” Easier than I thought it would come, I add, “I’ll drop by the bar, too, so we can catch up.”

Catch up. It feels too clinical, too mundane for us.

I don’t want to catch up with her, damn it. I want to know every detail of how her days go and share mine. I want to hear her laugh, answer all her questions, buy her all the damn donuts she wants.

I’ve never felt so weakened yet so empowered by one person, and it scares me to death.

“I would love that.”

When she smiles, it snaps something in me. Something that should’ve never been awakened.

Suddenly, her face is too close.

Her arm brushes mine, melting away the ice walls I’ve carefully built over the years so that nothing, not a scrape of anything, could reach me.

Gone. Just like that.

Here, no rights or wrongs exist. No consequences. Only this raw intensity and need to take care of her in ways I’ve never felt before.

I want to kiss her.

I want to touch her, breathe her, taste her, feel her in my bones.

She parts those plump lips, her sweet breath mixing with mine.

She’s only inches away, that mouth ripe for the taking, and I become blind with need.

“James…” My name falls from her lips like a blessing and a curse.

I find myself helpless, unable to make any sound, afraid I will shatter our fragile bubble if I do.

My head is empty of the usual voices telling me it’s wrong, that she’s too young, that it won’t end well. And I take it as a sign.

My hand is suddenly at the nape of her neck, holding her firmly like I suspect she likes it, when her phone rings.

And the moment is gone.

“I…” She blinks, cheeks flushed, disoriented.

“Your phone,” I manage to let out. Tension rolls off my body, and I pull away.

“Yes,” she breathes out, and she’s quick to get it out of her bag. She frowns at the missed call on the screen. “It’s my brother. I have to call him back, or he’ll worry.”

I nod, straightening in my seat, away from her again. “I’ll see you around,” I offer, still trying to understand what the hell has just happened.

“Y-Yes. See you. Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun.” She gives me a sincere smile, still flustered, and grabs her things before getting out of the car. “Don’t be a stranger.”

With a wave, she disappears inside the building, but I don’t move for another ten minutes—minutes in which I try to build my walls back up.

It doesn’t work.