Page 18 of Cry Madness

But it’s whatever. I’m done dwelling on this. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Translation. You’re going to hibernate as usual,” Ivory groans, then walks away.

“I didn’t say that!” I shout after her.

She’s right, though. I’ve been home for a month, and I haven’t gone out once despite my best friend’s efforts to drag me to some party or another.

“You can’t tell me you’re not even a teensy bit curious about getting inside that house.” Ivory unlocks the driver’s door of her silver Audi. “Come on, come with me, Alice, please.”

Hell yes, I’m curious, but I’m not ready to face Maddox. But even I inwardly cringe at my ridiculous answer when I say, “I’m saving all my socializing energy for my mother’s stupid party.”

“Coward.”

“Prudent,” I counter.

“You’re no fun,” Ivory quips.

“Not true. I’m loads of fun.”

No, I’m not.

“Remember when I had pneumonia, and I thought I was dying?” she reminds me as she hangs half in the car and half out.

Keys in one hand, garment bag in the other, I roll my eyes. “Oh, my God, the number of tissues and amount of snot and all the complaining you did was unreal.”

“Well, if those two miserable weeks were personified as a living, breathing human being, it would still be more fun than you.”

“Ha, ha. Goodbye.” I press the button on the key fob to unlock the vehicle doors. “Drive safe. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She slams the door closed, starts the engine, and lowers the window. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it. I hate knowing everyone’s out having a good time, and you’re locked up in your room with your monsters.”

Because that’s what I enjoy doing these days, drawing monsters. Surrounding myself with beautiful, horrific, haunting creatures—my very own macabre army of nightmarish beasts.

“Fine.” The lie slides too easily off my tongue. “Promise.”

“You better!” Ivory speeds off because, according to her, being on time means she’s already late. Her internal clock runs faster than everyone else’s, and she’s always in a rush even when she’s standing still.

Anticipating the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon spent in front of my easel, I’m about to climb up into my SUV when the song “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House grows closer, louder.Too close. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I’m instantly on alert because this song is an oldie but a goodie, not something commonly heard these days—and among Maddox’s favorites.

Rightfully suspicious, I scan the area, growling, “Fuck,” under my breath when Maddox’s ostentatious purple Dodge pulls up behind my vehicle, parking sideways to block my escape.

The world seems to tilt on its axis when I see, with a clenched jaw, Maddox’s gorgeous smiling face. “Well, hello there.”

I shake my head. “Nope, absolutely not,” I spit out as I lay the garment bag across the backseat and then slam the door closed with a bang.

Maddox dares to look adorably confused. “Absolutely not, what? I haven’t done anything yet.”

Yet.

Yep, I caught that.

“This.” I gesture wildly at us before yanking open the driver’s door of my SUV. I toss my bag inside, then swing back around. “We’re not doing this. Not today. Notever.”

He’s got the devil in his eyes when he slides out of his car. We’re a handful of feet apart, making this the closest I’ve been to him since the morning after The Accident, when he visited me at the hospital against my wishes. That day, we said our goodbyes…even as my heart broke at the prospect of losing him forever.

He lifts a roguish brow as he strollstoward me and rests his arm on my open door, caging me in. “What aren’t we doing, Alice?”

God, the way Maddox growls my name… His rumbling voice skids across my nerves, raising goosebumps along my flesh. “Pretend like you don’t know I want nothing to do with you.”