Chapter 21

By the time Madden stepped inside, he already had the decision locked in.

It wasn’t a feeling.

It wasn’t a question.

It was a choice.

And it hurt like hell.

Fred’s voice carried from the kitchen. “There he is! How was it? You look relaxed, son.”

Madden forced a smile as he dropped his keys on the entry table. “Yeah. Real relaxing.”

Poppi stood at the counter, a glass of water in her hand. She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t even try.

Good.

That made it easier.

Valyn, though…she noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes flicked between them, sharp and quiet, reading everything neither of them were saying. But she didn’t call it out. She just turned back to the stove like she hadn’t seen a thing.

“Actually,” Fred said, clapping his hands together, “perfect timing. Anchor’s coming over. Thought we’d all hang out tonight.”

Madden’s stomach dropped.

Why would he invite her over?

“Cool,” he said anyway. Casual. Easy. Like it didn’t matter.

Like his chest hadn’t just tightened at the worst possible timing.

Poppi’s grip tightened around her glass for half a second, so small most people wouldn’t catch it.

But he did.

He always did.

Anchor arrived twenty minutes later in a burst of energy that filled the room immediately.

“Spa day survivors!” she teased, dropping her bag by the door and grinning. “Tell me everything. Did you guys meditate? Cry? Become new people?”

Madden huffed a quiet laugh. “Definitely cried.”

Poppi didn’t laugh.

Anchor’s eyes flicked between them, a small crease forming in her brow. “Okay… I feel like there’s a story there.”

“There’s not,” Poppi said quickly, setting her glass down a little too hard. “It was just long.”

Madden leaned back against the counter, forcing himself to stay present. To lean into this. To try.

Anchor.

Focus on Anchor.

“She’s being dramatic,” he said, letting a small smirk pull at his mouth. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Anchor bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “See, I knew you could handle it. You don’t seem like a ‘spa meltdown’ kind of guy.”

If only she knew.

Madden smiled at her…really smiled this time, because Anchor was easy. Bright. Safe in a way Poppi could never be.

“That’s because I’m built different,” he said, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

Anchor laughed. “Oh, please.”

Across the room, Poppi went still.

He saw it.

Didn’t look at it.

Couldn’t.

They ended up in the living room, Fred putting on some game in the background, Valyn moving in and out with snacks no one was really eating.

Anchor took the seat next to Madden without hesitation, tucking her legs under herself as she leaned into him like it was natural.

Like it was expected.

Like this was where she belonged.

Madden let himself relax into it.

Let himself choose it.

“So,” Anchor said, turning toward him, her voice dropping just enough to feel more personal. “You survived four hours trapped with Poppi. Be honest…how bad was it really?”

His chest tightened at the question.

At the name.

At the way Poppi shifted slightly on the opposite couch.

He forced a breath out through his nose.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he repeated, lighter this time. “We didn’t kill each other. I liked spending time with my little sis.”

Anchor grinned. “Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

She reached out, nudging his arm. “Next time, you’re coming with me instead. I’d make it way more fun.”

There it was.

The opening.

The easier path.

Madden didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah?” he said, turning toward her more fully now. “What would you do different?”

Anchor’s smile turned just a little flirtier. “For starters, I wouldn’t let you get away with being quiet the whole time.”

He huffed. “I wasn’t quiet.”

“Mm,” she teased. “I don’t believe that.”

Poppi shifted again.

He could feel it without looking.

Feel her attention.

Feel the space between them stretching tighter.

Don’t look.

Don’t—

He looked.

Just for a second.

And it was a mistake.

Poppi was already watching him.

Not obvious.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But enough.

Her expression was controlled—too controlled—but her eyes…

God.

That was the problem.

It was always the eyes.

Something sharp flickered there.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Something closer to… hurt.

Madden’s chest twisted hard enough to knock the air out of him.

He looked away first.

Forced himself to.

Turned back to Anchor like nothing had happened.

“Guess you’ll have to prove it,” he said.

Anchor’s brows lifted. “Oh, I will.”

She smiled, and it was easy to smile back.

Easier than it should have been.

Poppi stood abruptly.

“I’m gonna get some air,” she said, not looking at anyone in particular.

Fred barely glanced up from the TV. “Don’t stay out too long.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The door shut softly behind her.

The room shifted.

Madden felt it immediately.

Anchor leaned closer. “Did I say something weird?”

“No,” he said quickly. “She’s just… like that sometimes.”

It sounded wrong even as he said it.

Dismissive.

Untrue.

But easier.

Anchor studied him for a second, like she didn’t quite believe it—but she let it go.

“Okay,” she said, softer now.

She rested her hand lightly on his arm.

He didn’t pull away. He relaxed.

Because this was the choice.

Because this was the line.

Because this was how he was supposed to fix it.

Even if every part of him was still outside…

Standing in the dark with Poppi.

Even if the wrong person felt right.

And the right choice felt like losing something he didn’t even get to have.