Page 48 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Maddy

Isign an autograph for the last few people in line. I take photos with them and give them hugs when they thank me for meeting them.

I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks are sore. I can’t believe how much I enjoyed this. Everyone was so kind and gracious and sweet. I glance down at the pile of gifts on the table that people brought for me. A bunch of cards, letters, friendship bracelets, and flowers.

My heart swells in my chest. This went better than I could have imagined.

I glance over at Ryker, who’s packing up all my gifts into a bag. My insides go gooey at how supportive he’s been all day. He gave me a sweet pep talk that I didn’t know I needed when my nerves were going haywire at the beginning. He helped me take photos and chatted with anyone who seemed nervous.

That warm feeling inside of me deepens, wrapping tightly around my heart. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a boyfriend.

I give my head a little shake of disbelief. Two years ago, I swore off relationships. And then Ryker came along and flipped everything I thought I wanted completely upside down.

Right now, all I want is him. I just wonder if he wants me in the same way.

I push aside the thought and smile up at a petite woman who looks a little younger than me. She sets a notebook down on the table in front of me.

“Hey. It’s so great to meet you,” she says.

“You too. What’s your name?”

“Libby.” Her smile turns shy. “I have kind of a weird request.”

I brace myself, wondering what she’s about to say.

“Would you write something encouraging in my notebook?” Libby asks. “I struggle with depression sometimes, and it’s really helpful for me to read messages from people I admire. It helps me stay hopeful.”

Emotion surges through me. This is such a wonderful idea, and I’m so touched that she would want me to do this for her.

She fidgets with the bracelets on her wrist. “I was a gymnast for a long time, but I would watch figure skating because I thought it was graceful and beautiful like gymnastics. I, um, remember watching you at the Winter Olympics.” Her smile fades, and her expression turns pained.

“I hope it’s okay that I say this, but the way you were treated by the media and fans was atrocious. ”

Her big brown eyes go teary as she looks at me. She blinks quickly.

“I had a breakdown after a gymnastics meet years ago,” she says in a quiet voice.

“I had an eating disorder, and I had so many injuries, I lost count. I couldn’t see straight, I was in so much pain.

I messed up my balance beam routine, and my coach yelled at me in front of everyone. I just couldn’t take it anymore…”

She wipes away a tear that falls down her face. I reach over and grab her hand.

She sniffles and gives me a wobbly smile. “Sorry, I don’t mean to unload on you.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for telling me. And for what you said about what happened to me. I went through a lot of what you went through too. I was injured too at the Winter Olympics. I was starving myself. And I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me.”

“Oh god,” Libby says.

“It helps me feel less alone to know that I wasn’t the only one to experience what I did,” I say. “I’m so sorry you went through all that too.”

She offers a small smile. “We made it, though.”

“How are you doing now?” I ask.

Ryker hands her a tissue. She thanks him. “I’m a lot better now,” she says. “I teach gymnastics classes for toddlers. It’s so chaotic and fun.”

I chuckle. “Sounds like a blast.”

“I have a podcast too about what it was like growing up in competitive sports,” she says. “I’ve interviewed athletes from a bunch of different sports. If you ever want to be a guest on it, I’d love to have you. People would love to hear from you.”

For a moment, I think about what it would be like to be able to tell my side of what happened at the Olympics.

I smile at her. “Can I think about it?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t want to, totally fine. I get it.”

I write in her notebook and take a second to read it back.

To Libby—A beautiful and brave badass. You’re strong, capable, and worthy. You deserve all the good things in this world. I’m lucky to know you.

I hand Libby her notebook. When she reads my message, she starts to tear up again, but this time, she’s smiling.

I stand up and hug her.

“I wrote my phone number down too,” I say. “Text me so we can keep in touch, okay?”

“Definitely.”

She walks off, and I turn to Ryker, who pulls me into a hug.

“You okay?” he asks, softly.

I nod against his chest. “Yeah. Just a little emotional.”

“I’m so proud of you. You were amazing today.”

His whispered words land at the center of my chest, right where my heart is.

We pack up and head out of the athletic, making our way through the dwindling crowd.

I head across the building toward the back, where the parking lot is. When I turn the corner, I bump into someone.

“Shoot, sorry! Oh…” I trail off when I see Sergei’s surprised face.

For a second, we’re both frozen with shock as we stare at each other.

“Madeline. Hey.” His pale skin goes even more pale now that he’s looking at me.

My stomach churns. Of all the people in the world I could bump into, why did it have to be my cheating ex?

He clears his throat and looks off to the side. “So, um, I’m guessing you were here for the athlete event too?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” he says through a sigh. He tugs at the hem of the shirt he’s wearing and clenches his jaw. That’s his trademark “I’m annoyed and uncomfortable” body language.

We’re both quiet for a long moment. God, this is awkward.

He looks past my shoulder at Ryker standing behind me. His eyes go wide, like he’s just now realizing he’s there.

I glance at Ryker and notice the hard look in his eyes, boring a hole into Sergei’s head.

“Uh, hey,” Sergei mutters.

Ryker doesn’t say anything. He just nods at him.

Sergei crosses his arms over his chest and looks back over at me. “I’m surprised that you’d want to come to something like this after the way you handled the Olympics.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I just figured you’d want to keep to yourself. Stay away from the public. I mean, what you went through was kind of embarrassing.”

Irritation swoops through me. “It was embarrassing. But that was your fault.”

He leans back, like he’s surprised at what I’ve said.

“Wait, you think your breakdown is my fault?” he asks.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, Sergei. The fact that I had a breakdown on international television is partly your fault. Remember how you were cheating on me with Natalia? Remember how I found out about it a week before I competed? Did you really think that wouldn’t affect me?”

He stammers for a second, but I keep talking before he can say anything more.

“I was going through so much crap then, Sergei. I wasn’t eating enough. I was training on a broken ankle. My whole body was in pain. And on top of all that, I find out you were cheating on me.”

My irritation morphs into frustration at how surprised he looks. He really has no clue how much I was suffering. Or he did and just didn’t care.

But he knows now. I’m making it very clear to him in this moment what an asshole he was—he still is.

And that’s all I have the energy for. He’s not my problem anymore.

A resigned feeling settles inside of me. It’s not good or bad. It just is what it is.

“You know, I used to think there was something wrong with me because you always seemed kind of distant. Nothing I did ever made you all that happy,” I say to Sergei.

“But I realize now that I wasn’t the problem.

You were. I can’t believe I wasted all those years and feelings on you.

All that for a guy who wasn’t worth my time. Who never cared about me.”

I turn around to Ryker, who’s gazing at me with a watchfulness in his bourbon eyes that sends warmth throughout my entire body. That frustration inside of me fades.

Ryker cares. He cares about me so much.

Sergei shakes his head. “Jesus, Madeline. I can’t believe you’re still mad about that. That was two years ago. Yeah, there was overlap with you and Natalia, but it’s in the past.”

I look up right as his fiancée, Natalia, appears from around the corner, a sick look on her face as she walks up to him. She must have overheard us.

“Wait, you were still with her when you started up with me?” Her tone is shrill. And surprised. And very, very pissed.

Sergei’s blue eyes go wide. He looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach.

He says something in Russian, but before he can finish, Natalia, rips off her engagement ring and throws it at him, then storms off.

“Natalia, wait!”

She spins around and glares at him. “Don’t you even think about coming after me, you cheating bastard.”

When she sees me, her face softens. She looks so sad. “I didn’t know you were together back then. When he asked me out, he said you were broken up. He said the only reason he still hung out with you was because you were clingy and he was just trying to be nice.”

I look over at Sergei, whose panicked gaze is darting between me and Natalia.

I face her again. “He lied to you, Natalia. The truth is this: Sergei and I were together until a week before the last Winter Olympics. I broke up with him when I saw the texts between you two on his phone.”

I take in the stricken look on her face, the tears pooling in her eyes. All the jealousy I harbored for her those years ago fades away instantly. Because now I realize I had nothing to be jealous of. Sergei was a selfish jerk. He was awful to both of us.

“I’m so sorry,” she says in a sad voice.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know,” I say softly, feeling awful for her.

She sniffles and wipes at her face, then walks off, disappearing down the hallway.

I grab Ryker’s hand and walk past Sergei.

“Hang on,” Ryker says. He turns Sergei. “I just wanna say you’re a real piece of shit for what you did to Maddy. You never, ever deserved her.”

Sergei glowers at him, like he wants to punch him. But then he blinks, and the hardness in his stare fades. Probably because Ryker is a full head taller than him and twice his size.

I stare at Ryker, my whole body tingling at the conviction in his tone.

I lead him out of the building and all the way across the parking lot without saying a word.

When we get into his car, I look at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft and warm with concern.

It only makes me want him more.

“I need you to take me to your bed right now.”