As Hannah stared at Maddox's face, she finally understood. She understood why he saw himself the way he did. She also understood, for the first time, the side of him that he had kept trying to explain to her. Her heart bled at the words Beth had written to him. She'd felt his pain while he read them, and she'd felt the way he raised his barriers, shutting down his emotions.
How could he possibly believe in himself after that?
And, how could she possibly believe in him after that? Could she?
She did. She still did. Why?
Silently, she took his hand, and turned it over. There were scars on his knuckles, the kind of scars that came from punching things. His dad? The criminals he tracked down? A tree? She thought of the scars on the hands of the man who'd killed her sister. On the hands of the boyfriends who had hit her mother. Men with scars on their knuckles had always made her want to run, to hide, to protect herself. Why wasn't she afraid of Maddox? Was she stupid? Desperate for love? Or able to see a truth that only she could see?
She looked up at Maddox, searching his face, trying to see the truth in there.
She saw his pain. She saw his anguish, years and years of anguish. But she also saw the violence, beat into him by a childhood of hell. She thought of how he had showered her and Ava with kindness, genuine kindness, affection, and warmth. He made them safe. Was he right that his darkness would win? Or would his goodness and beautiful heart triumph? She was afraid of men. She didn't trust them. One bad experience would destroy her forever.
But as she looked into Maddox's haunted eyes, she knew that he was wrong. He would never break her or Ava. Ever. She knew it all the way to the depths of her soul, through all the broken pieces of her heart that lay scattered around her. "I believe in you," she whispered.
Pain flashed across his face. "No, Hannah, don't—"
She laid her hands on either side of his face. "Ava and I have both seen darkness. We've seen the worst kind of men that walk this earth. I see the scars on your hands, and I see the scars in your heart. I know what you have done. I know what you are."
He went still, watching her, like a cat poised to spring away.
"But I'm not afraid, and neither is Ava."
He closed his eyes, and tipped his head back, as if fighting off a surge of emotion that was too strong for him to cope with. Then suddenly, he opened his eyes, slid his hand behind the back of her neck, pulled her against him, and kissed her.
It wasn't a sweet, tender kiss. It was a kiss of desperation, the kiss of a man drowning in hell, fighting for breath, for air, for salvation. Hannah flung her hands around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him back just as fiercely. She accepted all of his turmoil, taking it into her, and giving him all the peace and love she had to offer. She rode the tide of his frenzied kiss, of the desperation eating away at him, of the need raking through him with such agonizing ferocity.
He angled his head, deepening the kiss, taking, taking, taking. Except she knew that it was more than that. He was offering her his pain. He was surrendering his fear and his self-hate to her. He was trying to find his way through the darkness to the light that she was offering him.
So she held him tight, allowing him to pin her against his body with such strength that he almost took her breath away. His legs were strong, braced on either side of hers, a fierce warrior made of both the hardest steel, and the most tender, fragile threads of hope.
It was hope she felt in his kiss. The hope that maybe the words on that folded sheet of paper that he'd lived by for so long weren't actually the end of his story. God, she needed hope, too. She had left Boston to escape from the memories and the oppressive hopelessness and fear that had been crushing both her and Ava. In a few short days, Maddox had changed all that for her. He had shined sunlight onto them, beautiful, nourishing sunlight, and then he'd enabled them to feel it.
His darkness was worse than hers, in some ways. More personal. More internal. She was afraid of the world. He was afraid of himself. She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to be able to speak, her lips still against his. "I love you, Maddox. So does Ava."
He sucked in his breath, his arms tightened around her, and he froze. She could feel his heart thundering against her chest, a frenzied, almost out-of-control rhythm. He whispered her name, a low, guttural groan of anguish, and then he swept her up in another kiss, this one a thousand times more desperate and agonized than the one before.
His kiss was frantic and deep, so deep, as if he was trying to lose all he was in their connection. His arms were so tight around her, and she could feel his chest trembling against her. Tears filled her eyes at the realization that the strong, capable, modern-day cowboy was actually trembling because she had told him that she loved him. Because it meant something to him, and because it terrified him.
She held him tight, accepting the desperation of his kiss, his frantic need, his shields, meeting each kiss with her own, of equal strength, equal passion, equal need. "I need you, too, Maddox," she whispered.
He broke the kiss and stared at her, searching her face. "Hannah—"
There was a loud knock on the front door, making them both jump.
Neither of them moved. They just kept staring at each other. Hannah's heart was pounding, and her cheeks were flushed with heat. Why had she just told him she loved him? Did she really need to have her heart completely broken right now?
Maddox ran his finger along her cheek, as he had done so many times in the past few days. "I will treasure you forever, Hannah. You and Ava have given me something so beautiful that I didn't even know existed."
"You're still leaving?" She didn't need to ask. As soon as he'd started reading the letter from Beth, she'd known he was going to leave. Beth's accusations had become embedded on his soul, and she knew the resulting scars would never leave, no matter how much she offered of herself, and no matter how much she loved him. And yet a part of her had hoped that he would step into the sliver of sunlight she was offering him.
He nodded. "I'll stay for the snowball fight, and then I have to hit the road." He sighed, searching her face.
She nodded. "I know." She did know. And she also knew that as much as she loved Maddox, and she did, that she needed him to love her right back, and so did Ava. Simply staying there, but not loving them, wouldn't be enough. Maddox had taught her about love. She wasn't afraid anymore, but at the same time, he'd awakened a longing in her for love, real love, the kind of love that would battle through any obstacle, no matter what.
Maddox couldn't go there...or rather, he wouldn't. He could. Anyone could. But he wouldn't. And she needed that from him, and so did Ava.
Which meant he wasn't right for them...but if that was so, why did everything feel so good when he was with her?
Chapter 19
Maddox loved his family, but he had never wanted them to disappear more than he did right then. He wasn't finished with Hannah. He had more to say. He wanted her to say more. He just didn't know what it was that he was searching for, what words he wanted to hear, what words he wanted to say. It was so close, almost accessible to him, but he couldn't quite find it.
And no one was giving him time to find out.
A cheerful knock sounded on the door again, Lissa's voice echoed through the door. "Hey, guys! I have food!"
Maddox's irritation faded immediately. Lissa was bringing them food. Damn, she was thoughtful.
Hannah glanced toward the door, and Maddox saw the surprise on her face at Lissa's comment. "Food? Why did she bring food?"
Maddox smiled, his heart softening at the confused expression on Hannah's face. "Because you have been officially inducted into the Stockton circle of protection. That includes food, especially pies." The fact that Lissa had brought Hannah food struck deep inside Maddox. When he left, his family would make sure she was taken care of. He didn't need to do it. She didn't need him.
Hannah didn't need him anymore.
That truth sat like a weight on his chest.
&
nbsp; They'd needed him for the last few days, but now? His family would take care of them. They weren't alone. They were safe and protected.
He had no excuse to stay.
Hannah glanced toward the door, a look of stark, vulnerable longing on her face. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. You've got your posse now, sweetheart." He stepped back, forcing himself to release her. "Go let her in. She's got to be freezing out there."
Hannah didn't move for a moment. She just looked at him. Maddox managed a grin. "We can talk again before I leave. Go ahead." He kissed her quickly. "Go!"
A grin flashed across her face, a heart-melting grin of pure joy, and then she ran across the room and opened the door. Maddox stepped back into the shadows, watching as Lissa bound into the room, sweeping Hannah up in a bear hug worthy of long-lost sisters. To his surprise, his throat tightened as he watched Lissa unload several casseroles into Hannah's arms, and then grab some pie boxes that she'd set on the floor.
Hannah was smiling. Lissa looked happy. It was a perfect moment...the kind of moment he'd once dreamed of being a part of. The kind of moment he had to keep himself far away from.
Why was he the way he was? Why the hell couldn't he walk into that life, like Chase and his other brothers had? Why wasn't there a path for him into that life?
Chase appeared in the doorway, and his gaze went straight to Maddox, somehow finding him, even in the shadows. He whistled low under his breath. "You got it bad, bro, don't you?"
Maddox looked at his brother, the one who had lived through the same hell that he had. Chase had actually been the one to kill their father, but he'd done it to save the life of their youngest brother, Travis. It had been self-defense, not an assassination. "How do you do it?" he asked, as the women headed into the kitchen with the food. "How do you not let the monster inside you win?"
Chase stomped the snow off his boots, and then walked in. "There's no monster inside any of us, Maddox. That's just noise, shadows from Dad. Let the old stories go."
"No monster? I wish." God, he wished. He realized that he really did wish that. For years, he'd convinced himself that he didn't care. That it didn't matter. That it was fine that his job was to haul assholes back to jail, not to sit around at family dinners. But now, it was a lie. He wished like hell that he was someone else.
Chase hung his jacket up by the door, and walked across the small living room, coming to a stop in front of Maddox. "Listen to me, bro. Dad was a bastard. He's dead. When he died, he took all of himself with him. All that's left is who we are. The shadows inside you are just shadows. They're not him."
Maddox silently handed him the letter from Beth. Before today, he'd never shared it with anyone, ever. He'd been too ashamed of what he was. Now, he needed them to know.
Chase frowned, but he took the creased paper without question. He unfolded it and silently read it. Maddox waited, his muscles taut as he watched Chase read. His brother read to the end, and then swore under his breath. He looked at Maddox. "This is how you define yourself? Because of her?"
"Did I really kick him?" Maddox had never asked what had happened that day, even though Chase had been there and pulled him off.
"Come on, Maddox. Dad had just punched the woman you loved in the face. The fact you attacked him made you a hero, not a monster."
He wanted to know. "Did I kick him after he was already down? After he couldn't hurt her anymore?" He had to know. "Did I scream like a crazed fucker?"
Chase sighed and crumpled the letter in a ball. He tossed it on the coffee table, then faced Maddox. "I was the one who killed him. You remember that, right? I killed him."
"You killed him in defense of Travis. A fight that got out of control. You didn't stab him in cold blood after he was already unconscious." As he spoke, Maddox's gut sank. Chase's avoidance of the question was enough of an answer. He had kicked his dad when the old man was down. He had beat the hell out of him when he was already down. He had screamed like a fucking lunatic.
He suddenly felt exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Like he needed to sit down before he collapsed. His head started to pound, and he felt sick to his stomach as the truth settled onto him. "As long as I never showed you that letter, there was a chance Beth was exaggerating. There was a chance she wasn't telling the truth. There was a chance I wasn't that bad." He looked at his brother. "But seeing your face as you read it...it all happened like she said, didn't it?"
Chase swore again. "Tell me, Maddox. Do you think I'm a monster for killing him?"
"No." Maddox didn't hesitate. "It was the only way to stop him from killing Travis. But I'd already stopped him when I attacked him, so it's not the same."
"Fuck that, Maddox! It is the same!"
Maddox had no idea how Chase could believe that. "How? How the hell is it the same?"
"Both you and I faced a situation where he attacked someone we loved, who was defenseless. We both carried scars from his abuse, and we both knew exactly what he was likely to do if we didn't stop him and protect Travis and Beth. We both knew the truth, Maddox. The fucking truth. We weren't making this shit up, bro. We lived it. So, hell yeah, we took him down. It's our job and our duty to protect those who can't protect themselves."
Maddox stared numbly at his brother, still reeling from the truth that he was exactly what Beth had described. "If I was a hero, why did Beth call me a monster? Why didn't she throw herself in my arms, thanking me for saving her life, and calling me her hero? Because she didn't."
"Hey!" Chase interrupted him, an edge to his voice. "Fuck Beth."
Maddox stiffened. "Shut the hell up—"
"No, I'm not going to shut up." Chase glared at him. "Who cares if she couldn't handle you? That's her problem, not yours. Yeah, none of us are well-adjusted choirboys. Who the hell cares? We're loyal, we work our asses off, and we stand by those we care about, no matter what. I'm proud to be a Stockton, and I'm proud to be your brother." He held up his hand as Maddox started to argue. "Yeah, we don't fit in mainstream society. Yeah, you're not a fit for a minister's daughter who wants to believe the world revolves around church potlucks and swear jars. Who the hell cares? The world already has plenty of uptight pretty boys who don't know how to throw themselves into life and live, for real. We don't need to be that."
Maddox stared at him. "I'm not saying I want to be a choirboy—"
"Yes, you are. If you're letting Beth's opinion define you, then that's exactly what you're saying. The truth is, bro, we're fucked up, yeah, but all it takes is the right woman to love the hell out of us despite all the crap, and then all that bullshit we're saddled with just fades away." Chase's face softened, as it always did when he talked about his wife. "Find the woman who loves you exactly as you are, bro. And from the way you were looking at Hannah, it looks like you found her."
Hannah. Just hearing her name made Maddox's gut clench. He shook his head. "I don't want to be who I am. I don't need a woman to love me as I am, because who I am will eventually destroy her. I want to get rid of the curse of who I am. That's what I want."
Chase swore. "Come on, Maddox, you aren't cursed—"
"How do I get rid of it, Chase?" He searched his brother's face. He'd seen Chase with his wife and infant son. His brother had become soft in a way that Maddox had always believed he could be...until that night with Beth. But Chase had found a way. "You don't worry about killing anyone now. How do you get rid of it?"
Chase sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Love, I guess."
Maddox frowned. "Love? Love is what made me go after Dad in the first place. Love is what gave him the power to destroy my mom. Love makes it worse."
"Not the right kind of love."
Maddox sighed. "Talking with you is like chasing my own tail. Forget it." He grabbed the wadded ball off the table. "I have to go have a snowball fight. I'll see you later."
He didn't wait for Chase's reply. He had to get out of there. He had to get out of the living room, and the entire house.
Because whe
n Chase had said that maybe Hannah was the one he'd been looking for, something deep inside his soul had agreed.
Chapter 20
The day was magical.
Hannah had never felt as happy as she felt in this moment, stomping the snow off her frozen feet, laughing at the sight of Maddox dancing around the living room, trying to get the snow out from the back of his shirt that Ava had slipped in there when he'd sat down to take off his boots.
At one point, Hannah had never thought that she would hear Ava laugh again, and yet now the little girl was laughing so hard she had fallen down onto the floor and rolled onto her side clutching her stomach. It was the kind of heartfelt, uncontrolled, belly-deep laughter that only a child could do, the child that Ava had once been.
She felt a trickle on her cheek, and absently wiped her fingers across it, surprised when she found that she was crying. Not from sadness, but from absolute contentment and joy. The snowball fight with Maddox and Ava had been more fun than she had had in forever, pure laugh-out-loud hilarity. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like that, and Maddox's laugh had been so warm and engaging that her heart had melted just a little bit more.
Chase and Lissa had left several hours ago, and the sun was beginning to set. The day was almost over, and her heart couldn't stop remembering that Maddox was planning to leave at the end of the day.
She sighed as she watched Maddox begin to build a fire in the wood stove, explaining what he was doing to Ava, even as he made her stand far back out of range. Hannah took a deep breath and watched him. She really, really watched him, trying to see the man beneath the tenderness and the humor.
Was there really someone in there that she was supposed to be afraid of? Was she a fool not to believe him? Because she knew that if he ever showed any kind of violence, even anger, against her or Ava, neither of them would ever recover. They were both so fragile when it came to men, the kind of fragile that would shatter with a touch lighter than a butterfly's wings.
A Real Cowboy Loves Forever (Wyoming Rebels Book 5) Page 15
