Page 23 of Mistletoe Misses
“I come every week,” she says, her little arms circling my neck before I realize how much I needed the generous gift.
“You do? With your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“Where is she? I’d love to meet her.”
“Be right back,” she yells already halfway across the room, her mission clear.
I feel Mom watching me from the couch with concern, and I have no idea why. This is the best I’ve felt since our conversation, and I have one little girl to thank for—
Sadie re-enters the room, pulling Carmen by the hand toward me, and I swear my heart stops. The room noise blurs as my body refuses to pump blood and oxygen to vital organs.
Carmen is Sadie’s mother? The same Carmen who didn’t want children. The one who left me for the single life in L.A. Who’s Sadie’s father? A vision of Carmen in another man’s arms sends a shockwave through my tattered soul, and I can’t decide which hurts more—knowing Carmen started a family with someone else or that she didn’t want one with me.
Someone calling my name nearby echoes in my head like a baseball bat hitting a metal pipe. Each syllable bangs and ricochets off my skull until the pain it creates is all I feel. My body revolts, sending both chills and fire down my spine.
Self-preservation instincts take over my body because I can’t think. The only thing populating is that staying here isn’t an option. I can’t stand before her and everyone and pretend herpresence isn’t a knife in the back, another scar on my heart, or acid on my soul.
The living room recliner, kitchen counter, and last doorframe before my escape, support my weight until I stumble outside. The cold air slaps against my face, feeling closer to a spa facial in comparison to what the news I learned inside did to me.
“Maddox.”
“Not now, Mom.” With my hands on my thighs, propping me up, I gulp for something to fill me—air for my empty lungs, sanity, the bravery I once possessed.
“Maddox, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.” Her hand falls onto my back, and I shake it off like a sullen teenager.
“Why didn’t you? Why didn’tanyonein our family give me the slightest heads up?” This is not inconsequential news, yet I received no warning text or call and not oneheyMaddox, that girl who ruined your life has some shocking news…conversation. In their defense, I had adamantly refused to listen anytime her name came up. I’d cut off and shut out anyone who brought her up, and after a while, they stopped. Still, they knew hearing about Sadie would kill me and should have tried harder.
That has my system rebooting into status quo mode—downright pissed—and I put some distance between us. It’s safer for her that way. Fury is the only emotion I can process in the storm Carmen’s surprise created.
“I never expected you would meet Sadie before Carmen could tell you herself. Nana didn’t know you two had met either. Either way, it’s not our place to tell you.”
“I disagree.” Glancing over the yard, now covered in a fresh layer of snow, my breath materializes between large, floating flakes, but I don’t feel the cold. As if my body is shutting down from shock, I don’t feel anything at all. “I guess this means she moved back.”
“She did.”
“When?”
Ice crunches under her shoes as she steps closer. “Maddox …”
“When, Mom?”
“About four years ago.”
“I need to go.” I stalk off in the direction I’m facing with no plan, no coat, and no patience left.
“Where are you going?”
Ignoring her, I continue through the neighbor’s yard to the adjacent street with only my rage to keep me warm. When the road dead-ends, I collapse to the curb and grip my pounding head with both hands. There’s not enough hair to take my frustrations out on, so I snatch up a piece of gravel and sail it down the street.
Scar tissue from a season-ending pitching injury my senior year rips in my elbow, providing something else to focus on. The physical pain feels better than the misery and disappointment I had walking here like a zombie. Snatching up a handful of pellets, I shoot to my feet. One after another, I pitch to no target, each rock representing something I can’t control, until I’m sweating and breathless.
When the last rock disappears into the snowflakes, I collapse onto the curb, my forearms perched on top of my knees while I initiate the calming techniques I learned in yoga class. The Patrol Unit liked to grumble about Captain Emory requiring us take up yoga, forcing us to attend class regularly, but the breathing techniques came in handy during emergent situations. But this is nothing like a car chase, barricaded suspect, or robbery in progress. It’s my worst nightmare coming true, and neither my beloved baseball nor yoga can stop the—
“Maddox?”
My gaze cuts to Carmen standing a safe distance away, her arms folded across her body against the cold. How long had she been watching?
