But all the fight inside me dies the second a tall, dark-haired guy covered in tattoos slips out the front door. One that’s familiar enough to have my stomach roiling at the sight of him. “Madden?” He halts in his tracks, brows crashing together. “Hayes, right?” “Yeah,” I say slowly, stopping beside him. “Do you live here?” Madden glances back at the townhouse he’d just left, then back to me. I swear to God, if he says no, I might actually— “No, I was just…visiting someone.”
