Dare To Love - Lylah James Page 0,163

up and around the waistband of my jeans. We cuddled for what felt like hours and hours. I listened to his breathing and watched his chest rise and fall with every breath.

“Are you ready for your driving test tomorrow?” Maddox finally broke the silence.

My chest squeezed, and it felt like the flesh around my scars had tightened. There was a dull, uncomfortable ache around them – the pain, a ghostly echo. I rubbed a hand over my chest, but my skin was on fire.

I took in a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure about this, Lila?” Maddox asked softly. I knew he was worried, but he was also the same person who stood by me as I struggled to get into the driver’s seat for the last six months.

He was relentlessly patient with me, as I suffered panic attack after panic attack. It took me a month to finally get myself in the driver’s seat and then another three months for Maddox to teach me how to drive.

I told myself I could do it. as long as he was beside me.

I wanted to conquer my fears, wanted to leave my past behind. Truly and fully move on…

My scars throbbed harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

His hands smoothed up and down my back, ever so supportive and gentle. “Yeah, I’m ready. I’m going to pass this test.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, little dragon.”

Little dragon…

Only Maddox could handle my fire... my scars... my pain... He was the mirror to my soul.

My lips twitched with a smile, and the fire burning in my chest slowly dissipated.

Maddox

I never understood why they invited me for dinner when it was going to be like this. Icy cold silence… and they didn’t even acknowledge their son was sitting right there.

Father Dearest sat at the head of the table, while Mommy Dearest and I sat across from each other. She could barely meet my eyes, her focus on her plate, as she very primly cut her steak into little bites.

Brad, my father, didn’t even breathe in my direction. The only sound echoing around the frigid walls of the dining room was our cutlery against our fancy as fuck plates.

My throat closed, and it felt…suffocating.

The difference between my Thanksgiving dinner with Lila’s family and tonight with my own was vast.

I didn’t know why I still fucking tried. I hated this place. Loathed the idea of our ‘perfect family’ to the outside world, while it was anything but. I long gave up on the idea of us being even slightly happy.

My parents’ marriage was probably anything but happy, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out they weren’t even sleeping in the same room.

With a mansion as big as this one, the distance between us grew even bigger. When I used to live here, I was an outsider and a burden.

Now that I had left for Harvard, I was still an outsider. To my parents, I barely existed… except, I was their heir and their legacy to the Coulter’s name and empire. That was probably the only reason why Brad hadn’t disowned me yet.

Yeah, fuck them.

I shoveled my food in my mouth, barely chewing. Swallowing it down with water, I finished my plate, before they were even halfway through theirs.

I pushed my chair out and stood up without a word. My mother’s head snapped up, and her eyes flared in surprise. “You’re leaving?” she stuttered, looking warily between my father and I.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, where was her goddamn backbone?

“Maddox,” she started, but then trailed off. She was looking at me like a sad, lost puppy.

My jaw hardened, and I clenched my teeth. “What?”

“Why don’t you stay for a little while longer? Your father and I–”

I cut in. “Don’t waste your breath, Mother.”

She opened her mouth, but was cut off, when my father started coughing. Her eyes widened, and there was a flash of fear in them, as she jumped to her feet and rushed to his side. He brought his pristine, white handkerchief to his mouth and continued coughing, his chest rattling with the harsh sounds.

“Brad,” Savannah breathed quietly, looking slightly pained.

My fists clenched at my sides, and I fought the urge to run, to walk out of these iron gates and never come back. This place smelled nothing like comfort or joy – it was a death trap.

His coughing fit ceased, and he straightened his back. “Maddox, I want to speak with you. Come to my office,” he said, in

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