by Xavier Neal
“Madden.”
In a hushed tone, I reply, “What?”
“I asked you a question.” Refusing to comment only forces Knox to push, “Madden.”
The shakiness in my tone is prevalent, “I heard you.”
“Then answer me.”
I don't wanna answer her. I don't wanna explain the biggest fucking mistake I've ever made in my entire life. I can't. I...physically can't. Don't ask either. If I don't wanna tell the woman I fucking love what on earth would make you think I would be inclined to tell you?
Shaking my head I quietly beg, “Please don't.”
“Madden,” her voice hardens. “Tell me.”
I croak, “Knoxie-”
“You promised no secrets,” the whispered reminder has me shutting my eyes as I rock in place. There's a very brief pause. “Tell me about this accident.”
With my eyes closed, I'm transported back in time. “It was so fucking stupid...” Picturing myself behind the wheel of my Mustang I was reckless with from the day I got it, I can damn near feel it shaking in my grip as I floor it. “I knew better. I knew better than to fucking race on the highway. I knew better than to do that kind of shit. That's how you get caught. That's how you go to jail. That's how....accidents happen.”
Her footsteps sound like they're each a thousand pounds.
“I-I-I-I-I-I thought I could make it. I didn't think I'd hit that car. It was barely a tap from me.” My throat clogs with emotions I'm not sure how to process. “But that's all it took. That car crashed and I kept driving.” Unsure how to lift my head I simply continue to shake. “Like a coward. I kept driving. I left a woman for dead. I didn't call the cops. I...” There's a dip in the mattress beside me. “I drove straight home and told my father everything. Without hesitation he told me, he would get the situation handled.”
“So he went to The Devil?” Knox's question fills my ears.
I nod. “He struck a deal to get all the evidence lost, covered up, and any proof that I was anywhere near it, gone. In exchange, he owned my father. There was no job he could pass on. There was nothing he could say no to.” Lifting my head to face her I bite, “Do you have any idea what it's like to live most of your life knowing that if you hadn't made one stupid, tiny mistake, your father might still be alive? That your brothers would? Do you know what it's like to wonder how very different all this shit would've played out had I just taken responsibility for it? Had I just gone to jail for it?” She drops her mouth to answer, but I prevent it. “Every bad thing that has happened to this family is my fault. I got Dad thrown in prison. It was a job for The Devil that got him caught. A job he took because of me. Rightfully so, I got stuck keeping up the end of the debt. I've gotten my brothers, my father, my cousins killed. I don't deserve any of the air in my lungs.”
All of sudden, Knoxie leans over and brushes the tears off my cheeks. “You have to forgive yourself-”
“I don't deserve that either.”
“Maybe not,” she responds. “But you killing yourself over it every day, doesn't help or change the fact that it happened. And truth of the matter is, you all had choices you made that lead you to where we are now. If you would've went to prison, your father would've still went to The Devil to do everything in his power to help you get out. No matter the way you wanna write the story of the McCoys and The Devil, your paths would've eventually collided, and while the results may have varied, they may not have. Or better yet, they could've ended up with even more dead bodies. You have to face the simple reality that what has happened, has happened. You have to eventually forgive yourself and move forward using the life you have left to make a difference in this world. A good difference. Killing The Devil was a start, but don't let that be enough. Stop looking behind you at the ghosts you're waiting to end you and start building towards the future they'd want you to have.” More tears fall and she wipes them away again. “And you should know, it runs in your blood. There's no way any of this would have ended without a McCoy falling on a sword to protect another one. Whether that was your father for that accident or you for something else later, protecting each other is what makes a McCoy a McCoy.”
I whimper, “She didn't deserve to die...”
Shaking her head Knoxie sighs, “She didn't. But that doesn't mean you never deserve to be forgiven.”
With no more words, she pulls me into her arms and for the first time in my entire life I let go of every death, every crime, every painful plaguing affliction that I've ever carried in a rush of uncontrollable tears.
Judge me for the wrong I've done. Judge me for the hurt I've caused. Just don't judge me for crying.
Knoxie
Stretching my arm further across Madden's bare chest, I nuzzle deeper under the sheets. His hand suddenly strokes the skin between my shoulder blades. Enthralled with the simple gesture, it causes my nails to curl into him.
I'm like a fucking cat being petted. What the hell is that about?
“Morning baby,” his scratchy voice greets me.
“That's Mrs. McCoy to you,” I correct him.
“So you don't regret that?” Madden's question lifts my head to a propping position on his chest. “Now that you know?”
“Of course not,” my snip causes him to tense. “Nothing could ever make me regret that.”
Last night, he cried in my arms. Every guard he's ever had up was non-existent. The weight of his sobs eventually became so heavy that tears came crashing out of me as well. For a little while we balled together, but eventually, we held each other until exhaustion took over. And yes, I stand by someone who made a mistake when they were younger. We all make mistakes. Maybe you don't believe in forgiveness, but I do. I also meant what I said. He's always protected me, now I'm gonna protect him. I am his ride or die through everything.
“You've got a good heart, Madden.” The compliment receives a faint smile. “It's almost as good as your cock.” This time he smiles wide. Crawling onto his lap I state, “However, I'm convinced your cock is bigger.”
His slightly stiff shaft twitches against the lips between my hips. As it hardens his hands find their way up my thighs. “Is that what, Mrs. McCoy wants? Cock for breakfast?”
“Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Dessert,” I list until the pad of his thumb pushes against my clit. Instantly I moan at the welcomed touch. Through a pleased sigh I say, “I want you any time of the day I can fucking have you.”
Madden's dick nudges its way inside, slowly coating itself in the warmth, which is accommodating. “Feeling is mutual, Mrs. McCoy.”
His declaration elicits another moan. Gently I rock back and forth, the usual pace stimulating.
What? We can do it slow sometimes....
The motion continues only for a few moments longer. Slipping him out causes him to hiss in criticism.
With a smirk I fuss, “Oh, relax. It'll be worth it.”
“It fucking better be,” he grumbles as he bends his legs so his feet are flat on the bed. Once he's there, I move to a squatting position using his chest to help brace myself. Upon his cock's return to my dripping pussy, Madden roars, “Fuck yeah...”
“Told ya,” I whisper.
Raising myself back up, I repeat the lowering action a little faster than I did the first time. Elated by the way it seems to make me wetter than I've ever been before, I begin pumping myself on him faster. I shut my eyes and bounce carelessly, swept away in the pleasure of his cock throbbing against my walls. The rigid muscle is clearly restraining itself from coming undone. Hints of my orgasm whisper with each wild buck of my hips. Instead of using that as a sign to slow down, I push myself to fuck him faster. Harder. Before I realize it I'm drowning in an ocean of euphoria and fervor that just may be the death of me.
Dying from massive orgasm is like number one best way to go.
“Take whatever you need from me,” Madden encourages, which causes my pussy to clench. “You can have it. You can have anything from me.”
Those words cut the fin
al string that had me hanging on. Breathlessly I plummet into a pit of passion with howls of his name the only thing to cradle me on the way down. Without warning, he follows my plunge, my name spoken like a soft prayer to whoever is willing to listen. His heat over powers mine and I find myself shuddering through an additional small orgasm.
Well fuck me....I need a shower now. You too?
After a long slow breath he informs, “I love you, Knoxie Elizabeth McCoy. Always have. Always will.”
On a small hum, I slip him out, and collapse into his arms. “I love you too. So so much...”
**
Grandma Maggie offers Madden a cookie. “They're oatmeal raisin. Your favorite.”
Puzzled by her words I question, “How do you know those are his favorite? I don't even know that.”
Grandma Maggie adjusts herself in her seat. “I was baking cookies for him when you were still using your easy bake.”
Mouthy old woman.
“Besides, over the past couple months he seems to devour the oatmeal raisin ones faster than the others,” she hums while Madden simply shoves another cookie in his mouth.
I know that Alzheimer's can do a number on the mind, but I wasn't aware it created false memories. It hasn't been that bad lately, which makes me thankful, but now I'm concerned.
“Grandma Maggie.” I extend my legs out in front of me. “This is the first time Madden's been here.”
“No it's not,” she denies quickly and then looks at him with a stern look. “She has no idea, does she?”
Madden's chewing slows down. He shakes his head.
Cautiously I question, “I have no idea that what?”
“Madden,” my grandmother's voice fusses. “You tell her or no more cookies.”
“Damn it,” he grumbles and dusts his crumbs off his hands.
“You better explain or no more of the other kind of cookies either.”
Hey! My threat has way more merit than hers.
“You Thompson women are terrorists,” he complains. Madden angles his face towards me from the chair he's sitting in. “I've known Grandma Maggie was here from week one.”
“What?” My shriek causes him to scrunch his face.
“Take it down before you break my hearing aid,” Grandma Maggie giggles, making him smile until I give him a glare.
Don't you dare laugh with them.
“First of all, you don't have a hearing aid.” I point a stern finger at her. “Second of all, how could you have possibly known that?” When he doesn't respond, I scoot to the edge of her bed and demand, “Madden Mathew McCoy.”
He surrenders his hands, “Fuck! Fine. I've been visiting Grandma Maggie once a week-”
“At a minimum,” she inserts.
After tossing her a sarcastic look, he turns his attention back to me. “At a minimum since you've been living at the apartment-”
“That's been years!”
“Yeah.”
“Madden!” I shout. “How could you not tell me?”
With a shrug he says, “I didn't think you needed to know?”
“You didn't think I needed to know?” Mockingly I repeat, “You didn't think I needed to know? You didn't think-”
“There's really no need to keep repeating it,” Grandma Maggie sighs and extends the container of cookies back to Madden.
“Don't give him cookies!”
“Well you're not gonna,” Madden playfully comments having another bite.
“This is funny to you?”
A long hard look comes from him before he says, “I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know. I made a promise to Grandma Maggie that I have spent years fulfilling. All she wanted was for me to visit and reassure that I was doing everything possible to keep you safe. Look, I'm not sorry I didn't tell you. If she wanted you to know or thought you needed to she would've told you or told me to tell you. Grandma Maggie may not be my blood, but she's been family from day one too. I honored her wishes, the same as I honor yours.”
So....basically he's being sweet? What do you mean then why am I yelling? Because that's fucking rude not to let me in on their little Gossip Girl club. Oh shut up. I'm not wrong.
Before I snap about that, something else hits me like a sucker punch. “Are you the anonymous donor that's been paying for her to be here?”
He nods.
“Son of a bitch!” I squeak. “What happened to no more secrets?”
“He just told you, so technically that's not a secret sweetheart.”
“Whose side are you on old woman?” my snip causes her to giggle.
“You are in a mood this afternoon,” she comes back. “For a newlywed you're very cranky. Madden are you not doing your part to prevent that?”
Yup. She really just said that.
“I have been putting in work like a brand new job since she said 'I do' and she's still crabby,” Madden joins the teasing.
“Oh you just wait...” I scold him.
“Knoxie,” Grandma Maggie grabs my attention. “Eat a cookie and relax.”
Snatching one I mumble, “I don't wanna eat a cookie.”
“Yeah but you need one,” she encourages. After watching me take a couple bites she says, “It was a beautiful wedding.” The change of subject slightly wears down the wall of building anger. “Grandpa Jack and your parents would've loved every minute of it just like I did.”
Solemnly I sigh, “I'm sorry you couldn't be there in person. I'm sorry we couldn't wait. I-”
“Madden explained,” she insists, which causes me to lift my eyebrows. “It's okay. Sometimes bigger things are at play than what an old woman like me needs to see. While I am sad I couldn't physically be there, you two had already waited long enough...” I extend my hand to grasp hers. “Especially Madden.”
I snap, “Really?”
Madden chuckles from his seat.
“I told you you were the only one she ever mentioned.”
He smiles again.
Not sure what that comment means, but positive I don't like it I criticize, “Why are you all over his side of everything?”
“You're my granddaughter. I know you are the definition of stubborn.” She joins his laughter and I simply shake my head.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I should count the win that we're all together and she loves him as much as I do, but I am not a bigger picture kind of person. Ugh. Fine. At this moment I'm not one. They are the worst tag team duo ever.
Knoxie
Tuesday morning, the shop is busier than predicted.
When we closed Friday we expected a little back up, but from my understanding, they got crazy slammed Saturday and since the shop is closed Sundays to everyone except Madden, the build-up on our return yesterday was insane. Not to mention the scheduled appointments, shipments, and unexpected drop-ins. Let's just say my first couple of days back to work as Mrs. McCoy have been filled with endless hours under the hood. And not the sexual kind.
Destin comes out of the office with one ear pressed against his phone and his tablet extended out for Madden to sign. “I need your signature.”
“Knox can sign,” he pawns it off to me in a mumble.
I snatch the pen from Destin's grip. “Oh so this is how marriage is gonna work? You don't wanna do something so you just toss it to me like scraps I should be thankful for?”
Madden snaps as he carefully adjusts the carburetor, “My hands are kind of busy.”
“And mine weren't?”
“Obviously not if you could sign that form without hesitation.”
“No that's not what I ordered!” Destin shouts loudly over us, storming back towards the office with the tablet back in his grip.
“So....there's no honeymoon stage for you two?” Wrench jokes backing away from the Lambo whose tail light he just fixed. “Like none whatsoever?”
“This is the honeymoon phase,” Drew jokes as he reaches for his bottle of water. “Trust me.”
“Ha-ha.” I return to trying to clean my hands with t
he rag. “Why is it every time I look up the two of you have your thumbs up your asses instead of being productive?”
“Technically a thumb up the ass can be productive,” Wrench argues. “I mean, it all depends on the chick and what she's into. Sometimes a thumb is that extra boost you need to get that baby's engine started.”
Madden grunts, “Unless you want Knoxie to get started on your job dismissal paperwork, I suggest you shut your mouth, move that Lambo and get another job started.”
