Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 58

[Maddie’s POV]

I stare at the phone. Derek’s name glows on the screen like a warning sign, pulsing with each ring. My entire body goes cold, then hot, then cold again—like my internal temperature control just gave up and went on vacation without leaving a forwarding address.

“Put it on speaker,” Emily says immediately, already moving closer. Her hand reaches for her own phone. “Record it. Whatever he’s about to say, we need evidence.”

My hands shake as I swipe to answer, fumbling with the speaker button. Emily’s phone is already recording, pointed at mine like we’re documenting a crime scene. Which, given Derek’s track record, we probably are.

“Hello?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, which is a miracle considering my heart’s attempting to break the world record for most beats per minute.

“Congratulations on your victory today.” Derek’s voice cuts through the speaker—cold, bitter, sharp enough to draw blood. “Got my friends expelled.”

“Jenna and the others aren’t your friends,” I say, forcing steel into my tone even though I feel like I’m made of wet paper. “You’re on the hockey team. They’re not even on the skating team.”

“Jenna’s been a friend since freshman year.” His voice is tight, controlled fury barely contained. “She helped me with classes, introduced me to people when I transferred. And you got her kicked out. Destroyed her life.”

“Jenna got herself expelled by sabotaging equipment.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “She made her own choices.”

Derek laughs—a sound completely devoid of humor, like broken glass scraping concrete. “You know what the worst part is? You dumped me. Made me look like an idiot in front of everyone. And now people are whispering.”

My throat tightens. “What are people whispering?”

His voice hardens into something ugly, something dangerous. “That you might be into girls. That you were never really into me at all. That maybe dating me turned you gay or some shit. Do you know how that makes me look?”

My throat closes up completely. I have to force the words out past the panic. “That’s not how sexuality works.”

“I don’t care how it works,” Derek snaps. “I care that people are laughing at me behind my back. Saying Derek Owens’s girlfriend left him for a girl. That I wasn’t good enough, so you went and found yourself a girlfriend instead.”

Emily cuts in, her voice sharp as a blade. “This is about your ego?”

“This is about respect,” Derek says, and there’s something venomous in his tone now, something that makes my skin crawl. “Maddie humiliated me. Used me as a beard or whatever. And now I’m expelled, facing criminal charges for defending my friends, and she gets to walk away like she didn’t destroy multiple lives.”

“I didn’t use you,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I want. “We dated. Then we broke up. That’s how relationships work sometimes.”

“Bullshit.” The word hits like a slap. “Everyone sees how you look at Emily. How close you two are. I’ve been watching. I’ve seen things.”

My blood runs cold. Ice water straight through my veins, freezing everything solid. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve seen you two together when you thought no one was looking.” Derek’s voice drops lower, more threatening. “The parking lot after late practices. The way you touch each other. The way she held you when you were crying. That wasn’t just friendship, Maddie.”

There’s something beneath the words, something I can’t quite identify but know is there. Like she’s reading from a script someone else wrote.

“That sounds great,” I say, because what else can I say? “I’d love to see you both.”

After we hang up, I turn to Emily. “My parents are coming Saturday.”

Emily’s expression shifts immediately. “Do you think this is about the hearing?”

“Definitely.” The certainty settles in my stomach like a stone. “That lawyer’s questions. The rumors Derek’s probably spreading. They want answers.”

“Okay.” Emily sits up straighter, already shifting into strategy mode. “So we need to convince them the rumors are lies. We need to be consistent.”

We spend the next hour practicing—rehearsing what I’ll say, how I’ll deflect, which version of the truth I’ll tell. The version where Emily and I are just friends, just training partners, just two people who went through trauma together and came out closer on the other side.

The version that’s safe. The version that keeps everyone comfortable. The version that’s a complete lie.

By the time we finish, my head hurts and my chest feels tight. Saturday looms on the horizon—simultaneously too far away and too soon. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing you’ll eventually have to jump but desperately wishing you could stay on solid ground just a little bit longer.