Page 41 of Mad for Madison

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” I said. “No rush. No pressure. Just…one step at a time.”

Madison looked at me like I’d said something profound. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice barely a whisper.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t say anything. I just held on to his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I invited Austin and Luca over to see some of my new work,” Madison said.

“That sounds great,” I said. “Luca probably knows people who would gladly give you a shot if only you let them see your works.”

Madison scoffed lovingly. I was used to that sound by now. He didn’t take compliments easily. “Step by step,” he said.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “You have to start letting people in, Madison. They’ll surprise you.”

“You never lose hope,” Madison said as if wondering how that could be.

I shook my head. “Never.” I could read the question in his eyes. “I hoped for this,” I said before he needed to ask. “And here you are.”

The smile that touched his lips was happy and sad simultaneously.

The words hung between us, fragile and weighty all at once. Madison’s fingers tightened around mine, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke. Outside, the city hummed faintly, the distant sound of tires on wet pavement threading through the quiet studio.

Madison finally let out a soft laugh, a huff of breath that was almost self-conscious. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of miracle.”

“You are,” I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

He shook his head, his free hand running through his hair. “I don’t know if I’ll ever believe that.”

“You don’t have to believe it,” I replied. “I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before he looked away. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said.

“What am I doing to you?” I asked, entertained and a little turned on. The things I did to him…

“You’re making me nice. Hopeful, even,” he said. His eyes drifted to the painting of me on the wall—the one he’d poured weeks into, agonizing over every brushstroke. “I see you like this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but steady.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Madison said, nodding toward the painting. “Strong, steady, yet never sure of yourself. But also open. Believing in people.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Words felt inadequate, so I let the moment stretch between us, unbroken and whole.

“You scare me sometimes,” Madison admitted, breaking the silence.

“Scare you?” I asked, surprised.

He nodded. “Not in a bad way. Just…the way you make me want to try to do better. It’s terrifying to want something that much. I spent my life expecting way less than this.”

I reached up, brushing his hair away from his face. His eyes closed briefly at the touch, and when he opened them again, I could see the vulnerability he rarely let surface.

“You don’t have to do it all at once,” I said softly. “You don’t have to have everything figured out. I’m here, Madison. We’ll figure it out together.”

Madison’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that made my chest ache in the best way. “How do you always know what to say?”

“Because I know you,” I said simply. “And because I’ve been where you are. Maybe not the same way, but close enough to understand.” I’d been lost at the sea, too. I’d lived without ever expecting to be loved.

He exhaled, his breath shuddering just slightly. “You’re too good to me.”

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