Page 142 of Maddox
Wow. Way harsh. I mean it's true but still…
Bowing my head, I bite back my sniffle, and he says, “Hey, hey, it’s not your fault.”
I know intellectually that it isn’t but that doesn’t stop the burn of hurt knowing I’m doing this to Maddox and his family.
After wiping my nose, I slip from the bed and grab my bag. “What should I do?”
“Go back to your mom,” he says. “She can protect you.”
“You can’t?” I ask and his shoulders bunch before he sighs.
“You ain’t one of us, sweetheart.”
“If I was…?”
“Then you’d have all the Saints at your back.”
It’s midnight when Romeo drops me at the edge of the corner lot where Peter and Mom live. Rather than wake them, I tap his shoulder and indicate he should stop here.
Once I’ve dismounted the bike, I touch his arm and say, “Thank you.”
His pretty eyes glitter as he smiles and pats my fingers, saying, “Don’t mention it.”
“Will you get in trouble?”
Cocking his head, he gazes over my shoulder, his jaw ticking before he shrugs. “Naw, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Go talk to your mom.”
With a nod, I start up the driveway, eyeing the front porch where Petey fell and chipped his first tooth.
It’s also the place where I met him for the first time after Peter and Mom brought him home from the hospital.
I wish I could go back to that day, although some part of me can never regret meeting Maddox, a horrible notion because it never would have happened if my brother hadn’t died.
At the door, I wave to Romeo but when I turn back, Mom is standing on the threshold.
The roar of Romeo’s bike sounds in the distance as we stare at each other. I want so badly to rush into her arms that a sob bubbles in my throat.
She looks good, clearer than the last time I saw her, but I know how easy it is for her to hide the signs she doesn’t want people to see.
Still, I don’t protest when she wraps me in a hug and says, “I’m glad you came home, sweetie.”
It’s awkward as fuck but warmth still blooms in my soul when she pulls me inside and shuts the front door.
I have so many other memories here, but they’re overshadowed and now it’s like walking into a mausoleum of my regrets.
After leading me to the couch, she sits beside me and takes my hands. There’s so much that has happened since I left that I don’t know where to start beyond the one burning question that I can’t get past.
“Who are you?” I blurt.
When her gaze slides away, I pull back and fold my hands in my lap, silently urging her to tell me the fucking truth.
To my relief, she sighs and looks to the ceiling as she says, “Well, that’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” I mumble, and she chuckles, but it ends in a weird sob before she shakes her head.
The old grandfather clock in the corner ticks away while she gathers her thoughts before she says, “When I was a child, I lived on a farm with Mom and my stepdad and my stepbrothers. The little shits were two years younger than me and twins. Although they weren’t identical, they might as well have been because they were inseparable.”
She picks up a stray piece of lint from her pajamas and drops it over the side of the table, her eyes taking on a faraway quality. “My mom was a simple woman. Good but serious. Everything changed when she met their father and Bobby and Joey didn’t care about rules, only experiences and as they got older, it was a constant source of frustration.
