by Jay McLean
“Whenever you’re ready, man. We’re in no rush.”
I nod, thankful that Jackson understands my hesitation.
“Here,” Madison says, grabbing my attention. She offers the lilies to me. I hold her gaze a moment, hoping that somehow her confidence in the situation will rub off on me. My face presses firmer against her hand when she cups my cheek. Her eyes, glassy with tears, stay fixed on mine. And then she smiles. “All you have to do is exist,” she says.
My eyes drift shut. “Exist?”
I feel her lean forward, and the next second, her mouth lands gently on mine. “Just exist,” she whispers, pulling back.
I keep my eyes closed. “Another one,” I say.
She laughs once and gives me what I want—what I didn’t know I need.
***
I walk up the driveway, glancing back at Jackson and Madison, who are now watching from outside the car. Then I look at Christine—her back to me, her head down, humming something about bass and treble. Through my nerves, my anticipation, and my fear, I somehow manage to smile. I stop a few feet behind her and take one more look at Madison. “Breathe,” she mouths.
So I do.
After the third breath, I finally gain the courage. “Ma...”
She stops-mid movement; her head slowly lifting. She sets her tools to the side and sits back on her heels. Then her shoulders shake. Her hands cover her face, muffling the sound of her sobs.
“Ma,” I say again, my voice strained.
I stay in my spot, afraid of how she’ll react if I move closer—if I touch her. But what I really want to do is hug her. Tell her that I love her and that I miss the absolute shit out of her. And that I’m sorry.
So damn sorry.
She sobs again, slowly coming to a stand.
“Say it again,” she whimpers, her back still to me.
“Ma,” I say, louder this time.
She turns to me, her face wet from her tears. “Kyler!” She takes two steps forward before falling to her knees. And I’m right there with her, holding her, squeezing her tight.
“I love you, Ma. So much.”
She sobs harder.
“And I miss you.”
She won’t stop crying. But they aren’t tears of anger or disappointment like I’d thought. They’re tears of joy. Maybe even relief.
I help her to stand, but keep her close.
“Give me a kiss!” She laughs and offers me her cheek.
I kiss it.
“Another one,” she says, offering the other.
I kiss that one, too.
Then she pulls back, clasping her hands in front of her. She scans me from head to toe, then flicks my dog tags. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
“I’m sorry, Ma.” And as soon as the words leave my mouth—I feel lighter. Who’d have thought that two words—I’m sorry—could weigh so heavily on me?
“Shut up, Kyler,” she says, voice clipped. And I laugh. “Let’s go inside, son.” She flattens her palm on my back and leads me up the path to the front door. A loud whistle startles us both, and we turn around. Jackson’s leaning on his car—his arms crossed. “What about me?” he shouts.
“Jackson!” she squeals. “Get over here!”
He practically runs up the driveway and lifts her off her feet, spinning her in a slow circle. “You’re such a goof,” she laughs. “Put me down!”
She kisses his cheek when he set her back down.
“How are you, Mom?” Jax asks.
Christine glances at me. “I have my two boys,” she says. “Life’s damn near perfect!”
I hear Madison’s voice. Quiet. Timid. “Ky?”
I look back at the car, but she’s no longer there. She’s at the end of the driveway, hesitating to come closer. She presses her hand down her dress and shuffles on her feet—one hand carrying the frame, the other wiping her tears.
Christine squeezes between Jackson and I, taking Madison in for the first time. “Oh wow,” Christine says.
Yeah, I get it.
Madison—she’s kind of breathtaking.
Madison checks her hair, and then pushes her shoulders back, trying to appear confident.
But she looks so lost.
So unsure.
So imperfectly perfect.
She checks her hair again and I chuckle. “You look beautiful, babe,” I call, making my way over to her. I hear Christine whisper something to Jax and him agreeing with her.
Taking her hand, I lead her back to Christine. Madison’s hand slowly moves between the two of them. “It’s a p-pleasure to m-meet you, Mrs. D-Davis.”
Christine’s gaze flicks from Madison to me. And then a face-splitting grin appears.
Shit, I missed her.
Christine ignores Madison’s hand and pulls her in for a hug. An extremely long hug. What is it with members of my family not willing to let her go? Christine starts to release her, but changes her mind last second and squeezes her tighter.
Jackson laughs from behind them. “This is why I don’t bring girls home, Mom,” he teases.
Christine’s laugh bubbles out of her as she finally releases Madison. “Well, that last girl you brought home—”
Jackson quirks an eyebrow, cutting her off.
“You should’ve seen her, Ky. Nothing but tattoos and titties!”
Jackson laughs.
They carry on talking about the girl—the girl I’d never met—would probably never meet. They had inside jokes—ones that I’d never know. Christine smiles sadly at me, as if she somehow senses what I’m thinking.
But I’m not jealous.
I’m not even mad.
I’m just sorry.
“Are those for me?” Christine asks, nodding to the forgotten lilies in my hand.
I try to smile, but I can’t. “Yeah,” I say, handing them to her. It all seems so stupid now—sending her anonymous flowers once a month. It wasn’t enough. I had five years of catching up to do. Five years of inside jokes to make up for. And I swore it now—I’d start today.
She ignores the flowers and gives me a quick sideways hug. “I’ve missed you, Kyler.”
***
Christine takes a liking to Madison right away—of course, I knew she would. Madison—she’s kind of impossible not to like. But there’s something off with Christine.
She seems nervous and apprehensive. She starts to speak and then cuts herself off. She can barely hold my gaze. I give Jackson a questioning look, but he just shrugs.
***
Madison and Christine busy themselves in the kitchen while Jax and I sit at the counter. Christine shows her how to bake Jax and my favorite cookies from when we were kids. Madison pays attention to the details, even going as far as writing down the recipe. Jackson rolls his eyes at them. Madison fakes a glare his direction. “It’s important I know this stuff,” she tells him. “How else am I going to keep him?”
When the cookies are in the oven, Christine asks Madison if she’d like a tour of the house and Madison agrees.
MADISON
“How long have you known Ky?” Christine asks.
“Not long.” I sit on the bed and bite my lip, my hands clasped on my lap as I look around Ky’s old bedroom. Having Ky by my side was comforting, but now I’m alone, and if Christine’s anything like Ky says she is, I’m about to cop a ton of questions. Most likely ones about whether or not I was good enough for Ky.
I’m not.
And I know that.
Which makes me even more nervous.
“Did he tell you about me?” she asks.
“Yes,” I manage to say.
“What did he say?”
“That you were badass and that you remind him of me a little...”
She laughs; this all-consuming laugh that has me relaxing slightly. After a moment, she sighs and sits down on the bed next to me. “I’ve missed him,” she says, like it’s something she hasn’t been able to admit before.
“I bet,” I tell her. “I’d
miss him too if he were gone that long. Hell, I miss him when he’s not right next to me.”
She reaches over, taking my hand in hers and settling them between us. I almost flinch, not used to the comfort it gave me. Her touch was soft, warm; everything a mother’s should be.
My chest tightens—memories of my own mother trying to break free.
I don’t let it happen.
I can’t.
“I’m holding on to a lot of secrets,” she says. “And I don’t think that I’m ready to face them.”
“About Ky?” I ask, turning to her.
She wipes tears off her cheeks and nods, releasing a silent sob as she does.
“Secrets aren’t good...” Trust me, I want to say. I would know. “Especially with Ky. Whatever you’re keeping from him, he deserves to know.”
It should have felt weird, to be having this conversation about Ky with a complete stranger. But she was Ky’s mom and he cared about her, so that means that I do too. “He cares so much about you,” I add. “We wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”
Her smile reaches her eyes as she tilts her head to the side. “Young lady, I think he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about you.”
I stay silent.
“Do you care about him?” she asks.
More than I should.
I push down the sob and nod. “Yes,” I tell her, looking her right in the eyes. “Actually, I think I’m in love with him.”
KY
Once Mom and Madison leave us alone in the kitchen, I turn to Jackson. “What did Mom whisper to you when I went to get Madison?”
He laughs. “That Madison was smokin’ hot.”
“And you agreed?”
“Dude, have you seen Madison?”
“I’ve seen more of her than you ever will, asshole.”
“Yeah, but I can still get off imagining it,” he says through a chuckle.
I punch his arm.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“What do you press these days?” I ask, shaking out my hand to relieve the pain.
“What? Are you jealous?”
I shrug. “A little.”
“I’m not that kid anymore, Ky.”
“You’re just avoiding my question. Tell me.”
He shakes his head and changes the subject. “You need to speak to Mom.”
“Yeah, I know. Is she acting strange right now?” Or maybe I just don’t know her anymore, I think.
“She carries a lot of guilt, Ky, and you’re the only one that can fix that.”
“Guilt over what?”
“Talk to her.”
It’s silent a moment—my mind reeling with so many thoughts I can’t focus on one.
Jax clears his throat, bringing me back to reality. “So four days.”
I turn to him. “Huh?”
“The fight?”
“Yeah.” I sigh.
He glances around the room, making sure we’re still alone. “And you haven’t heard from DeLuca?”
“Nope. He said he’d be out of town, though.”
“He did?” he asks, surprise clear in his tone.
I eye him sideways. “Yeah...why?”
“My guys have been tailing him. He hasn’t gone anywhere.”
“What?”
“Why the hell would he lie to you?”
“I have no—”
Madison’s sniffle interrupts us. She walks into the room wiping her cheeks, Christine behind her. “You broke her, Ma,” I tease, pulling Madison to my side. “You okay? What happened?”
She kisses me quickly but stays silent.
“Kyler,” Christine says, her voice shaking. “Can we talk?”
***
We take the fresh cookies out onto the back patio. Jackson grabs two handfuls of them, lifts the bottom of his shirt, and uses it to store them. Then he grabs Madison’s hand and leads her away, giving Christine and I the alone time we both need. “Let me show you around the yard,” Jax jokes, pointing his finger at a bush. “This bush right here is called the Sophia. Named after the Sophia Bush. Latin name, the Jaxjerkoffagus.”
Madison’s head throws back with her laugh. “I have no idea who Sophia Bush is.”
Jackson glares at her, then at me, then back at her with a look of disgust. “I need to talk to Kylie about his choice of girls.” He shakes his head at her. “Sophia Bush is the hottest girl that’s ever existed.” He gives her a quick once over. “You actually look a lot like her.”
Madison grins from ear to ear. “You think I’m hot?”
His eyes widen. “Moving on,” he says loudly.
Christine and I settle on the patio furniture, watching them. Madison laughs again, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. He smiles down at her before walking to the next plant. “This one here,” he says, faking a posh British accent, “is the Tyra, a form of banksia. Named after Tyra Banks, of course. Latin name—”
“Let me guess,” Madison cuts in. “The Jaxbeatoffalot.”
He barks out a guffaw. “No, young Madison,” he says, patting the top of her head gently. “Nice try. It’s called the Jaxspankbanksimus.”
I turn to the sound of Christine laughing next to me. She’s watching them, but I need her to see me. “Ma?”
She tenses. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“You wanted to talk?”
She sighs, then pushes her shoulders back, gearing herself up for what she’s going to say next. I find myself copying her, choosing to ignore the thumping of my heart. Then she looks at me with those eyes that are so familiar and everything else fades away. “I’m sorry, Ky.”
Confusion blurs my mind. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one that left.”
She swallows, fighting back the tears threatening to fall. “I’m the one that let you.”
“Ma—”
“No. I’ve waited five years for this conversation, Kyler. I have it memorized, so please let me get it out.”
I nod—the lump in my throat refusing to let me speak.
“I was meant to be your mother. Your rock. But I failed you. When Jeff died—”
“Ma—”
She holds up her hand and continues. “When Jeff died—” she breaks off with a sigh. “I should have been there for you. I was so consumed by my own loss that I didn’t think about you boys. I didn’t see how much you were suffering, and then Steven...I should’ve paid better attention—should’ve taken better care of you, Ky. Do you hear me?”
Her gaze holds mine while I clear my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You were just a kid. You were hurt and lost and desperate. I shouldn’t have let you leave...and then when you did—”
“You didn’t know—”
“I knew where you were stationed, Ky. I knew when you deployed.”
“Then why didn’t you call me or something?”
“Because I was ashamed, Ky. I was guilt-stricken and I was ashamed. And when my friends would ask me how you were I told them you were great—that I sent you packages often. How insane is that? I was lying to everyone, and I was lying to myself.”
“Ma, you can’t blame yourself. You were going through the same thing. I chose to leave you behind. You and Jackson—you needed me, and I just left.”
“But you were suffering more than just the loss of Jeff and your brother. You were heartbroken...and I wasn’t there for you.”
“You knew?”
She shakes her head. “Not at first. Jackson found out at school and he told me—and even then I couldn’t bring myself to care about anyone but myself.”
“Come on, Ma,” I comfort..
She wipes her eyes. “Thank god for Jackson,” she says, looking over at them.
I follow her gaze. Jackson’s throwing handfuls of dirt from the garden toward my old house while spewing immature profanities. “You piece of shit on a stick!”
Madison’s holding her stomach from laughing so hard.
“Yeah,” I say, “thank god for Jackson.”
<
br /> He throws another handful. “You shit stinking whore face!”
Madison laughs harder.
“You try it,” Jax says, dropping dirt in her palms.
“Try what?”
“Just yell whatever you’ve always wanted to, and throw it.”
Madison looks at the dirt in her hands, then back up at Jax.
“Seriously,” he encourages. “It feels so good.”
Madison nods, a slow smirk developing. Then, as loud as she can, she yells, “You child-abusing, alcoholic, dick of a cunt!”
***
We leave soon after Madison dropped the C bomb. Christine pretty much declared her love for Madison right then and there. Jackson too. But to be honest, I passed that stage a long time ago.
We spend the car ride home feeding Madison stories from when we were kids. It feels good—better than good—to be able to sit back and laugh about the good times, instead of just remembering the bad. Because there actually wasn’t that much of it—bad, I mean.
And Madison—she’s living proof of that.
***
It took Madison coming into my life for me to let go of the past—of the guilt that I’ve carried with me since the day Jeff died. How can you thank someone for giving you that gift—the gift of being able to breathe again.
I’m quiet as we take the elevator up to our floor. I can see her watching me—waiting for me to say something. But I don’t, because I can’t.
We stay silent as we walk into my apartment. She steps in behind me—apprehensively closing the door behind her. “Ky,” she starts, then breaks off when I turn to her—my gaze pinning her in place. “If you’re mad at me for overstepping, get it out now. I’d rather you yell at me than not talk to me again.” She chews her lip—her gaze lowering.
Say something. “Madison.” It’s all I can say. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t do her justice. ‘I love you’—well, it’s close.
I take the few steps to get to her, and then lift her chin with my finger.
The tears in her eyes cloak the uncertainty behind them.
Her chest rises when mine falls
She exhales.
I inhale.
She takes.
I give.
She pushes out a breath.
I pull one in.
So here we are—taking each other’s breaths away.
My gaze drops to her mouth—her bottom lip quivers with each release.
