Chapter 11: Play with the Phantom: Chapter 9

Ari

A couple of hours later, when the sun feels too strong, too hot, too suffocating, we all head back into the house.Asher ended up cutting our walk short because he had another call to prepare for, and I spent the next hour and a half baking in the sun, letting the heat dull the restlessness still humming in my veins.Hannah, Otto, and Maddox partake in casual conversation, but I tune most of it out, stretching across my towel and trying to force my body to relax.I barely succeed.So when Asher mentions the midsummer gift exchange, my stomach knots with nerves.I nod, swallowing, but even as I make my way upstairs to change, the unease lingers.It’s stupid. It’s just a gift exchange. I’m still a little pissed that Asher didn’t mention it sooner. It almost feels like he left me out on purpose. Like I’m an afterthought, or maybe just not as important as I thought I was. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but the nagging feeling won’t go away.My fingers still tighten around the bag where the snake plant sits, neatly wrapped in crisp brown paper, tied with twine.It’s supposed to be symbolic—resilient, easy to care for, impossible to kill. According to my quick research in the shop, it fits with the idea of midsummer, of new beginnings, of life continuing.And yet…A familiar, nagging voice whispers in the back of my mind.What if it’s not good enough?What if the person who gets it doesn’t care about plants? What if they think it’s lazy, or last minute, or impersonal?I shouldn’t let those insecurities get to me, but they do.I am an eldest daughter, after all. We overthink. We measure. We try to get things right, even when no one is watching.Even when no one else cares.I exhale, pressing a hand to my temple. Maybe I should have gone with something else. Something more expensive, something harder to find, something that shows I put in more effort.But then… Maddox’s voice slides into my thoughts.“You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. Polite. Sweet. The perfect girlfriend. But that’s not who you really are, is it?”I swallow hard. I hate that his words won’t leave me alone. I hate that he looked at me for all of one and a half days and somehow saw right through me.I shake the thought away and run my hands over the twine bow, straightening it.It’s just a plant.It’s just a gift exchange.Not everything is as serious as I make it out to be in my head.Thank you, anxiety.I take a quick shower, and the whole time I can’t stop thinking about Maddox.The way his dark blond hair was tousled and wild—so different from the short, preppy style Asher wears his.I think about the way his muscles undulated with every movement, as if he spent his entire prison sentence honing them into perfection.I’d have to be blind not to find him attractive. I mean, I am dating his twin brother.Showered and changed, I scowl as I pull on the dark blue linen dress that Maddox picked out—soft as butter, loose in a way I’d never choose for myself. But the color complements my dark eyes and golden skin, and with the heat outside, makeup feels pointless. My hair, still curled from the beach, hangs down my back, untouched.I square my shoulders, plaster on a practiced, effortless smile, and head downstairs.And yet…The unease still lingers.Asher is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, and he smiles as he wraps a hand around my waist.“You look so pretty,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry about having to cut our walk short.”I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay when Hannah comes around the corner. “Oh, sweetheart, is that for the gift exchange?” she asks, smiling.I nod, handing the wrapped plant over to her.“That’s so sweet of you. Let’s go to the living room,” she suggests.Hannah leads us into the living room, where Otto and Maddox are already seated. I don’t let my eyes wander for too long on Maddox’s dark gray, worn t-shirt and black jeans.The coffee table is scattered with small, neatly wrapped gifts, a modest but thoughtful display of tradition.I settle onto the couch beside Asher, tucking my legs underneath me. The nerves from earlier still linger in my stomach like butterflies that have escaped their enclosure.Hannah claps her hands together. “All right, let’s get started, shall we?”“How does it work?” I ask.“We pull a name and that person gets the gift we picked out,” she explains.She reaches into the bowl of names, plucking out a slip of paper. Her eyes light up.“Oh! It’s Otto.” She smiles and hands him a small, carefully wrapped package.Otto opens it to reveal a small, antique compass. His expression softens. “I love it, darling,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Hannah’s cheek.I exhale slowly, shifting in my seat. The way they look at each other, so effortlessly in sync, makes something uncomfortable settle in my chest. I’ve never acted like that with anyone.Otto reaches for the next name. “Maddox.”Maddox leans back, expression unreadable as Otto hands him a thin, square box wrapped in brown paper. He peels it open, revealing a leather journal.He runs a thumb over the cover, but his face gives nothing away. “Thank you,” he says simply, looking up at Otto.Otto nods, a strained kind of pride flickering behind his eyes.Maddox sets the journal down beside him, then reaches into the bowl. His lips curve slightly as he reads the name.“Asher.”Asher stills beside me as Maddox hands him a small present wrapped in white paper. He tears the paper off, revealing a historical fiction book. Asher gives Maddox a tight smile before setting the book down, and I wince as I look at Maddox for his reaction, but Maddox just sits there stoically. I know they’re not on the best of terms, but Asher didn’t even look at the back of the book—he just discarded it like it meant nothing.“Thanks,” he says, his voice curt. Reaching into the bowl, he smiles when he shows me my name written on the piece of paper.I perk up as he hands me a small box wrapped in crisp white paper.My fingers work at the ribbon, untying it carefully, an inexplicable sense of anticipation curling in my chest.When I finally pull the lid off, my excitement dims.A key chain.It’s leather, simple, with a four-leaf clover branded onto one side. It’s… nice… in a practical sort of way.“Oh, thanks, Ash.”He leans over and kisses my temple. “Figured everyone could use a nice key chain.”I nod, reaching for the last strip of paper. “Hannah,” I say, setting the paper down and reaching for the gift I picked out.She gives me a warm smile as she opens it. “A plant,” she muses, tilting her head. My pulse quickens. I knew it wasn’t much. I should’ve gotten something else, something better, something— “Oh, Ari. I absolutely love snake plants,” she adds, and I physically sag with relief.“That’s good. I wasn’t sure— If I’d had more time⁠—”Maddox glances up, eyes locking on to mine. “It suits her. She has a greenhouse and everything.”Hannah reaches for the last gift on the table. “Oh! Looks like there’s one left.”She picks up the package—a slightly larger box, wrapped in deep blue paper. Maddox reaches out, his grip closing over the box first.His voice is calm, smooth. “That’s for Ari.”Silence.The air shifts, something tense settling into the room. Hannah glances at Otto, who watches the exchange carefully.Asher frowns. “Wait. You got Ari a gift?”Maddox’s grip clamps down slightly on the box. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t back down.“Nobody said I couldn’t.”A slow beats in my chest as my fingers tighten around the key chain in my lap.thud, thud, thudI glance between them—Asher, tense beside me; Maddox, unreadable across the room.Maddox’s eyes flick to mine, just for a second.And even though no one else knows what’s inside the box, I suddenly feel like he’s holding a secret between his fingers.One meant just for me.Maddox remains silent as I take the gift from him and tear into the wrapping, my pulse hammering. The paper gives way to a ball of bubble wrap, tightly secured, as if whatever’s inside is delicate, important.Unraveling it slowly, I barely catch the object before it tumbles from my hands.My breath snags.Oh my god.I feel Asher lean in closer, peering over my shoulder. “What is it?”But I can’t answer yet—my hands are shaking too much.I turn the package over, reading the label, checking, double-checking, because there’s no way⁠—But it is.It’s a vintage Polly Pocket. Not just any, but one of the rarest sets ever—the Jewel Secrets collection from Bluebird Toys.New in the package. Perfectly preserved.My holy grail.I don’t dare look at Maddox.How the fuck did he know?“A toy?” Asher asks, his voice bordering on incredulous. “You got my girlfriend a toy?”I blink, snapping out of my daze just long enough to turn my head toward him.“It’s not just a toy,” I whisper, my voice unsteady, my throat aching in a way I don’t expect. I press my lips together, trying to suppress the sudden, overwhelming weight of emotion pressing into my ribs.I don’t cry over things.But for a horrifying second, I think I might.I glance down again, running my fingers over the slightly discolored plastic, the delicate packaging that has somehow survived decades untouched.It’s perfect.It’s mine.And Maddox knew.Asher sighs. “So is it… worth a lot of money or something?”Maddox shifts in his chair. Calm. Unruffled. Entirely in control of this moment.His voice is smooth, but sharp enough to cut. “It’s not about money,” he says evenly.His eyes flick to mine, just for a second. Just long enough to send something electric through my veins.“Maybe if you paid attention, you’d know it’s at the top of your girlfriend’s public wish list,” Maddox continues, his tone cool, edged with quiet amusement.Asher stiffens beside me.I inhale sharply, dragging my gaze away from Maddox, willing my heart to slow.He’s right. I’ve had this on all of my saved lists for as long as I can remember. I never thought I’d actually own it. But Maddox—somehow, —got it for me.inexplicablyWhich makes no sense.How the hell did he know?We only just met. My wish lists aren’t exactly a secret, but they aren’t something people just stumble across either. Did he go looking? And if he did… why?I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It’s sentimental more than anything,” I say, running my fingers along the plastic once more.But that’s not quite true, is it?Because right now, in this moment, this means more than anything anyone has ever given me.I’d never tell Asher this, but I used to own the same set. I was maybe three or four when my grandma took me shopping. It’s one of my first memories—walking along the toy aisles, waiting to pick something out. My youngest sister had just been born, so my grandma took me back to her house—the same house I currently live in.I spent all day playing with the Jewel Secrets set. I loved it more than anything I’d ever loved before.And when my dad came to pick me up, he made me throw it away.I can’t even remember the reason, but as I got older, I realized it was because he prioritized discipline, practicality, and “usefulness” over anything he perceived as superficial. He viewed all feminine, princess-y things as pointless—indulgent, even. Later, as a teenager, he would emphasize obedience in everything I did.It was never about the toy.It was about control. About shaping me into someone who didn’t question authority, who didn’t make selfish choices, who didn’t waste time on things that brought joy instead of function.And I was the eldest daughter. I had to be strong. Had to be responsible. Had to be perfect. There was no space for softness. No room for mistakes. No time to be a little girl who just wanted to keep her favorite toy.As an adult, I indulge in the frivolous things like vintage purses, nostalgic toy sets, and eight-dollar iced coffees. I make good money at my job, and I fought back against the hardened childhood I experienced whenever I could.Because if I don’t?If I stop proving to myself that I can have beautiful, unnecessary things just because I want them, then maybe I never really escaped at all.Hannah claps her hands together, breaking the tension. “Well, I think that was a lovely exchange, don’t you?”Asher mutters something under his breath, but Hannah either doesn’t hear him or chooses to ignore it.“Lunch should be ready in about thirty minutes,” she continues, rising from her seat. “I made some open-faced sandwiches and that cucumber salad you liked last time, Ari.”I force a small smile, still reeling from the last few minutes. “That sounds great.”Otto follows his wife toward the kitchen, Maddox leaves the room without a second glance, and Asher lingers only long enough to look down at his phone before sighing.“I have a call in a few minutes. Work stuff. You’ll be okay without me?”I blink at him, then glance around the cozy, sunlit room. “…Yeah, Ash. I think I’ll survive.”He doesn’t even notice my sarcasm. Instead, he nods absently, already distracted, already somewhere else. And just like that, he’s gone.I let out a slow, measured breath. The house suddenly feels too warm, too tight. I need air.I wander aimlessly for a while, tracing my fingers along the edge of the windowsill, peeking into the tidy kitchen, the too perfect sitting room. Everything is charming, carefully curated.Everything except me.Why did Asher even bring me here? To watch him work? The realization stings more than I want to admit. I rub my arms, trying to shake the feeling, but it sticks.I need air. I need to think.Leaving the unopened Polly Pocket on the table, I slip through the patio doors, letting the ocean breeze cool the heat rising beneath my skin.The backyard is quiet, the sound of the waves a slow, steady rhythm against the cliffs. I exhale, trying to center myself, but before I can fully settle⁠—I catch the faint scent of something sharp, earthy, unmistakable.Weed.I follow the scent, stepping around the edge of the house, where the property slopes slightly before leveling out near the cliffs.Maddox is there, leaning against the railing, the ocean stretching wide behind him.A joint dangles between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the summer air.He doesn’t look at me right away, just lifts it to his lips, inhales slow and deep, holds it—then exhales, the tendrils of smoke blurring the sharpness of his features.He looks entirely at ease.Like he belongs here.Like he’s always belonged.I fold my arms across my chest. “Didn’t take you for the type.”Maddox hums, still not looking at me. “And what type is that?” His voice has the echo of someone who’s not surprised to find me out here with him.“The kind to… I don’t know. Get high in the middle of the day on a family vacation?”That earns me a slow smirk over his shoulder, and the sight has my breath stuttering. “You’re assuming this is just for fun.”I shift on my feet, watching the way his fingers roll the joint, the ease with which he holds it.“You’re saying it’s medicinal?” I tease, lifting a brow.Maddox turns around and leans against the railing, finally looking at me then— looking at me.reallyI squirm under his scrutiny. There’s something about him that makes me feel like he knows more about me than he’s letting on—the gift he just got me notwithstanding. It’s like he’s already spent time inside my mind. The feeling is almost suffocating, pressing into every inch of me, searching for something I don’t know how to name.“I’m saying it makes it easier.”Something about the way he says it unsettles me.Instead, I shift my weight, glancing toward the house. “If Asher knew you were doing this out here…”Maddox laughs under his breath, low and unimpressed.“If Asher knew half the shit you were really thinking, he’d lose his mind.”I freeze.My pulse skips, then quickens, then skips again. “Excuse me?”Maddox tilts his head slightly, considering me, his gaze unhurried. Even though his expression remains neutral, there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach knot.He lifts the joint between two fingers, rolling it lazily, studying the ember like it holds an answer. Pushing off the railing, he walks closer to me until he’s standing right in front of me. The dark blue of the ocean behind him brings out the icy blue of his eyes. eyes.Asher’s “You and me.” His voice is slow, measured. “We’re not like them.”I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms. “Them?”He smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “You know who I mean. People like Asher. People who fit into neat little boxes, who never think too much about why they do what they do. People who follow the rules.”I shift my weight, resisting the impulse to fidget under his stare. “And you think you know me well enough to put me in a different category?”His lips twitch. “I don’t think. I .”knowI let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Oh, yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?”Maddox holds my gaze for a beat, then exhales a slow stream of smoke, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip.“You act like you’re content. Like you’ve got it all figured out. The steady job, the loyal boyfriend, the safe little life. But deep down?” He leans in, eyes flashing. “You’re fucking starving. For more. For someone to see you. For someone to take you seriously when you stop pretending you want this kind of life.”I tense, but I don’t look away.“You’ve been taught to accept less,” he murmurs. “To settle for whatever scraps people give you and call it love. But you don’t want scraps, do you, Ari? You never did. You just never thought you could ask for more.”I frown. “I’m not⁠—”“You do. Maybe it was your upbringing, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve always had to be strong for your sisters. They’re younger than you, right?” I rear my head back in surprise that he remembers that. “You pretend you’re fine with it—pretend it’s easier that way—but deep down?”His voice a low rasp beneath the crash of the waves, and he sets the joint down on the metal railing. He crosses his arms, watching me with the same unreadable expression.Was this guy doing pull-ups all day in prison? Because his biceps could probably throw boulders over this railing.“You’re restless. You’re waiting for someone to give you permission to live the life you’ve always wanted. wanted. Not the life you’re supposed to have… but the one you want more than your next breath.”Truly Damn.The words land too close to home. Way too fucking close.I inhale sharply, crossing my arms to hide the way my fingers twitch. “That’s a big assumption.”Maddox just shrugs, casual, dismissive. “Not an assumption.”I shake my head, irritated. “Why do you act like you know me?”His eyes flick over me once, assessing, before he lifts the joint again.“It was my job to read people.” His voice is light, but there’s something dark curling at the edges of it. “Back in the Marine Corps.”I blink. That catches me off guard. I had no idea he was in the Marine Corps.“What, like interrogations?”He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes.”A pause. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.Maddox holds the joint out toward me, his voice low, smooth. “Go on, then.”I stare at him.Then at the burning tip, the slow curl of smoke.Every rational part of me tells me to walk away. To say no, to go back inside and sit with Hannah and Otto and pretend I belong in a world like this. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don’t. And Maddox knows it.So I reach forward, fingers brushing against his as I take the joint from his hand.I don’t get high. Drunk? Sure. I’ve been known to kill a bottle or two of wine after a long day. But drugs? I don’t do things like this. My father would’ve disowned me if he knew I smoked weed.But…I think about Asher, tied to his calls, his endless meetings, his perfectly structured world.I think about how I bend and shape myself to fit into it—how I am, yet attempting to make my dad happy by settling down.bored I think about the Polly Pocket, the way it felt to be truly seen for the first time in years.And how Maddox has never asked me to do anything other than be myself. How he just things about me, like what kind of clothing will look good on me, and what all my hidden truths are.knows Even ones I’d never told Asher.I should be perturbed by his observations and assumptions, but I’m not. It’s kind of… It feels like, around Maddox, I can almost let go of the responsibility I’ve clung to my entire life.nice. And then⁠—I take the joint from his fingers, lift it to my lips, and inhale.Maddox watches the whole time.The smoke burns, but not as much as the question rising in my throat. I exhale slowly, turning toward him. “How did you know?” My voice is quieter than I mean it to be. “About the wish list.”He studies me for a beat, then shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “They’re not hard to find, for people who want to see them.” His voice is even, casual, but something about the way he says it makes my chest constrict.His gaze lingers on me, steady and unreadable. “Most people don’t pay attention. Not really. They hear what they want, see what’s convenient. But if you know where to look, what to listen for…” He trails off, his meaning clear.I swallow. “And you do?”His lips twitch. “For the things that matter, absolutely.”The words settle between us, heavy with something I can’t name.It should unnerve me—the way he sees things no one else does, the way he sees me. But instead, it feels… nice. Thoughtful in a way I hadn’t realized I craved.Because with Maddox, I don’t have to play the part. I don’t have to soften my edges or shrink myself down to fit into someone else’s picture of me. He doesn’t expect me to smile and nod and carry the weight without complaint.He doesn’t expect me to be easy.He just wants me to be real.And against all logic, I’m starting to like being around him.