Chapter 29

Poppi’s breath caught. Her lips were swollen from the kiss. Her cheeks were bright red.

Anchor didn’t miss that.

But she didn’t look at Madden.

Didn’t acknowledge the tension snapping tight between them.

Instead, she leaned in slightly toward Poppi, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

It sounded like concern.

It felt like something else.

Poppi swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Anchor nodded once.

Then finally—finally—she looked at Madden.

And smiled.

“Hey,” she said easily, like nothing had shifted. Like everything was exactly the same. “You disappeared on me.”

Madden hesitated for half a second.

Only half.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady enough—but his eyes flicked back to Poppi anyway. “Just needed some air.”

The same excuse.

The same lie.

Anchor’s gaze moved between them—quick, subtle, almost unnoticeable.

But it was enough.

She knew.

Or at least—

She knew enough.

And still—

She chose to let it go.

“For sure,” she said lightly, stepping toward him now, closing that space like she belonged there. Like nothing could touch her place beside him. “Come on. Fireworks are about to start again.”

She reached for his hand.

Madden didn’t pull away.

But he didn’t look at her either.

He was still looking at Poppi.

And Poppi—

Poppi couldn’t look at him at all.

Because suddenly, the secret wasn’t just hers anymore.

And the silence?

It wasn’t safe.

It was suffocating.

Chapter 15: Secret is out

The second round of fireworks started with a whistle that cut clean through the night.

Everyone cheered.

Poppi flinched.

She stood near the edge of the yard now, arms wrapped loosely around herself, trying to blend into the crowd of people holding sparklers and drinks and easy laughter. The glow of the fireworks painted everything in flickers—faces lighting up, shadows stretching, moments appearing and disappearing too fast to hold onto.

She hadn’t looked at Madden again.

Not really.

She could feel him though.

Like a pull she couldn’t shake.

“Okay,” Anchor’s voice cut in beside her, bright and effortless. “I have an idea.”

Poppi turned, already wary.

Anchor smiled like this was nothing. Like she wasn’t holding something just beneath the surface. “Fred wants more drinks brought out, and apparently everyone’s too busy watching explosions to help.”

Poppi glanced toward the house. “I can go—”

“Perfect,” Anchor said quickly.

Too quickly.

Poppi’s stomach tightened.

Anchor turned then, her gaze sliding effortlessly across the crowd until it landed exactly where Poppi had been trying not to look.

“Madden,” she called.

He looked up immediately.

Of course he did.

Poppi’s pulse spiked.

Anchor waved him over, completely at ease. “Can you help her grab a couple coolers from inside? I think they’re in the kitchen.”

The world seemed to tilt.

Poppi opened her mouth. “I can just—”

“It’ll be faster with both of you,” Anchor said lightly, already taking a sip of her drink. “And I’m not trying to make multiple trips.”

Her tone was casual.

Her eyes were not.

For just a second—barely there—Anchor’s gaze flicked between them.

Measuring.

Waiting.

Poppi felt it like pressure against her chest.

Madden stepped closer, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah. Sure.”

There was no hesitation.

That made it worse.

“Great,” Anchor said, smiling again, stepping back like she’d just solved a simple problem. “I’ll hold everyone hostage out here until you’re back.”

Poppi forced a nod.

Her legs moved before her brain caught up, carrying her toward the house, toward the door she’d just run through minutes ago.

Toward him.

Madden followed.

Of course he did.

The second the door shut behind them, the noise dropped—muted by walls, replaced by a quieter kind of chaos. Music hummed from the speakers, empty cups littered the counters, the kitchen lights too bright after the dark outside.

Poppi didn’t stop walking.

“Poppi—”

“Just leave it Madden,” she said quickly, heading straight for the fridge.

Her hands were shaking again.

She hated it.

Hated that he could do this to her. Hated that she let him.

“We need to talk about what just happened,” he said, his voice lower now, closer than she expected.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is to me,” he admitted.

She yanked open the fridge harder than necessary, grabbing a couple of drinks just to give her hands something to do. “It was a mistake.”

Silence.

Then—

“It didn’t feel like one.”

Her breath hitched.

She turned, abruptly, the words already loaded. “That doesn’t matter.”

He was closer now.

It was like neither of them knew how to stay away once they were alone.

“It matters to me,” he said again, softer this time—but steadier. “You kissed me back, Poppi. That wasn’t nothing.”

“I know what I did,” she snapped, even as her voice wavered. “And I shouldn’t have.”

“But you wanted to,” he said.

The truth landed between them like a spark.

She shook her head immediately. “No.”

“Say it like you mean it,” he said.

She froze.

Because she couldn’t.

Madden took another step closer, close enough now that she could feel the heat of him again, feel everything she’d just tried to bury rising right back to the surface.

“This is exactly why we can’t be alone,” she whispered.

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back quietly. “Because I didn’t drag you out here.”

Her chest tightened.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Then, softer—

“Did you mean it?” he asked.

She blinked. “What?”

“What you said out there,” he clarified. “That you don’t feel anything.”

Her throat went dry.

“Yes,” she said.

A lie.

He saw it.

She knew he did.

“Look at me and say it,” he said.

She hesitated.

Then slowly, reluctantly, her eyes lifted to his.

Big mistake.

Because everything was still there.

The heat. The pull. The want.

Stronger now.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said, quieter this time.

Madden held her gaze.

Then gave a small, almost disbelieving exhale.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”

Before she could react, he closed the distance again—not kissing her this time, but close enough that it stole the air from her lungs anyway.

“Because if you didn’t,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t be standing this close.”

Her heart slammed.

She hadn’t even realized she’d moved.

Or that she hadn’t stepped away.

“Stop,” she whispered.

But she didn’t move.

Neither did he.

For a second, it felt like the terrace all over again—like they were right on the edge of making the same mistake twice.

And maybe—

They would have.

If the door hadn’t creaked open.

“Wow,” Anchor’s voice floated in, light and almost amused. “You two are taking your time.”

Poppi jumped back like she’d been caught doing something she couldn’t explain.

Madden stepped away more slowly.

Too slowly.

Anchor stood in the doorway, one shoulder leaning casually against the frame, her expression easy—but her eyes sharp, taking in everything.

The distance between them.

Their breathing.

The tension still hanging in the air.

“Need help?” she asked, glancing between them.

Poppi shook her head too quickly. “No—we’re good. Just grabbing everything.”

“Mm,” Anchor hummed, stepping further into the kitchen anyway. “Looks like it.”

She moved past them, brushing by Madden first—just enough contact to be intentional—then stopping beside Poppi.

Up close, her voice dropped slightly.

“Careful,” she murmured, low enough that only Poppi could hear.

Poppi stiffened.

Anchor smiled.