Combative Trilogy

by McLean, Jay

  She rolls her eyes but agrees.

  She invites me to stay in her apartment so she has access to everything she needs just in case. Of course, I agree. But I don’t sleep. I spend the first couple of hours watching her like a hawk and, when I’m confident enough that she’s fine, I go to my apartment and get my laptop. I return to her bed and quietly press on the keys, researching everything I can about diabetes, specifically type two, and the medication and treatment needed. Turns out there are four different types of insulin. They all take different times to reach the blood stream and have different durations of effect. I don’t recall her telling me what types she uses, so I go to her bathroom to check the label on the bottle.

  There’s a label on there, but it isn’t her name on the prescription.

  Mr. Mark Wade.

  Who the fuck is Mark Wade?

  Chapter 24

  I call Jackson and tell him I want to take a few days off training to keep an eye on Madison. He says he understands, but I can hear in his voice that he isn’t happy about it. Then he asks me a question that I knew was coming. “Why didn’t she want an ambulance?”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I lie, moving around Madison’s kitchen to make her breakfast.

  “Bullshit, Ky. I know you. I saw your face when I got there. You were rocked.”

  I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Maybe she doesn’t have insurance and can’t afford it. Who knows?”

  “You didn’t question it?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  He stays silent.

  I sigh. “Just leave it alone, Jax. I don’t need this shit from you on top of everything else.”

  “Fine. Have you heard from DeLuca?”

  “Not since the club.”

  “And you think you’re ready?”

  “I will be.”

  The bedroom door opens and Madison steps out, her eyes roaming her apartment.

  “Babe,” I call out. She smiles when she sees me and makes her way over.

  “I like you in my kitchen,” she says, rising to her toes and kissing me quickly.

  “Give me a call if you hear anything,” Jackson says, hanging up before I have a chance to respond.

  I drop my phone on the counter and lift Madison onto the counter next to it. Palms flat on either side of her, I ask, “How are you feeling?”

  She rests her forearms on my shoulders. “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m still a little weak, but I’ll have my insulin and something to eat and we can go from there.” Even though I know she said it for my benefit, it’s the answer I need.

  “So…” I start apprehensively. “Who’s Mark Wade?”

  At first, she’s confused, then her eyes go wide with understanding. She sighs and pushes my arm away and hops off the counter to walk around me. “You went through my stuff?” she mumbles.

  “A: you willingly showed me your stuff and B: should we really be talking about who goes through whose stuff?”

  She starts to set the table and speaks to me with her back turned. “Do you know how hard it is to find a doctor when you’re homeless? Or how expensive medication is when you can’t even afford a meal?”

  “So it’s not legit?”

  “The medication is legit. How it’s obtained isn’t. I don’t know who Mark Wade is—but whoever he is, he helps me get cheap insulin.”

  “You need to—”

  She turns swiftly, her eyes already narrowed. “No, Ky. I don’t need to do anything! You promised! You said you wouldn’t push me until I was ready and I’m not!” Her eyes lose focus, and she gasps for breath. I get to her quickly, pulling out a chair that she practically collapses into.

  I squat in front of her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can you just—I know this is hard—I get that. And I’m sorry that you have to put up with me.”

  “Stop it.”

  “No, Ky. If this ever gets to be too much for you—my past, my secrets, and now your need to be overly protective—you know where the door is. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Don’t say that, Maddy; I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be… if I didn’t care about you. I’m just worried—”

  “I just feel like you’re interrogating me all the time now, and I don’t like it. I just want to go back to—”

  “Existing?” I cut in.

  “Yes.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  When I told Madison I was taking a few days off, she said I was overreacting, but she was happy she’d have me all to herself for a while. We take it easy, only leaving the apartment for a couple of hours at a time. We cook meals together instead of eating out every night, which I’m sure didn’t help with her diet.

  It was a give and take. A push and pull. I wanted to take care of her—she wanted the freedom to take care of herself. But the truth? I loved being the one to look after her and I think she knew that, which is why she seemed to take a lot more than she gave.

  “You take good care of me, Kyler,” she says, stroking my hair as I rest my head on her stomach.

  She’s watching TV. I’m discreetly on my phone, looking up how to obtain an ID for someone that has no prior proof of identity. It’s important she gets the right treatment—regardless of what she says. “I like taking care of you. It makes me feel important,” I mumble.

  “Is Christine like that? The nursing type?”

  “Yeah.” I wasn’t getting anywhere with my online search. I know I have the best resource at my fingertips, but Jackson’s my last resort. It’s bad enough I’m missing training—he doesn’t need to know how truly distracted I’ve become.

  “Do you miss her?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I answer, my mind elsewhere.

  * * *

  After a few minutes of silence and me reading the same websites over and over—I finally cave.

  Ky: Hey. I need a favor.

  Jackson: Anything.

  Madison: I need a favor.

  Jackson: Who is this?

  Madison: Madison.

  Jackson: What do you need?

  Chapter 25

  Dr. Aroma stares at me.

  I stare back.

  Her eyes narrow a little.

  I squirm under her gaze.

  “What?” she asks.

  I look around the room, wondering if she’s speaking to me, because I haven’t said a word. There’s no one else here. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you okay, Doc?”

  “I’m fine.” She pours a glass of water, then downs the entire thing in one swig, her eyes staying on mine.

  I wait until she’s set the glass back down and ask, “Do you think relationships can work if there are secrets involved?”

  “Ah ha!” she almost shouts, pointing her finger at me.

  I rear back in surprise and stupidly look around the room again.

  She clears her throat. “Carry on.”

  “Okay…” I eye her sideways before continuing. “I guess I’m just wondering how important it is to share absolutely everything. And if the feeling of suspicion will always linger because you know the person is holding back.”

  Dr. Aroma sits forward a little, her gaze penetrating mine even more. “I don’t know, Ky,” she says, her eyes thinning to slits. “Depends on what the secret is and if it involves the skanky whore that runs the impound lot at the police station.”

  I stifle my laugh and trap my lips between my teeth, watching her eyes widen with her sudden admission. “Time’s up,” she says.

  “I just sat down.”

  “You’re excused.”

  “No.” I shake my head and cross my arms, loving the switch in power. “I think I’m going to sit here and talk. You can stay silent if you want. Or you can talk.”

  She matches my stance. “Fine.”

  “So today I think I’m going take a page from your book and talk about all of my best friend’s crushes when he was in high school
. You may know him as Detective Davis…”

  I wake up the next morning in an empty bed.

  Quickly, I get up and search my apartment for Madison, but she isn’t there. Neither is her bag. I check my phone. There are no missed calls. No messages. My heart stops. I dial her number. She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, babe!”

  “Jesus Christ, Maddy, where the hell are you?”

  “Just went to see Debbie.”

  “You should have sent a text—”

  She laughs. “I left you a note.”

  “Who the hell leaves notes these days!”

  She laughs harder. “I’ll be back soon. You better have calmed down by then because I’m not putting up with grumpy Ky all day.”

  Just as I’m about to respond, there’s a knock on the door. Figuring it’s Madison, I open the door in my boxers—half-mast.

  “Dude!” Jackson yells, shielding his eyes from my dick. “Put that thing away.”

  “I’ll call you back,” I tell Madison, then hang up. I leave the door open for Jackson and go to the bedroom to put on some clothes. “What are you doing here?” I yell out.

  I hear the front door close and then the TV switch on. “I have no idea,” he shouts back.

  Once my pants are on and I’ve shrugged on a shirt, I join him on the couch. “What the hell do you mean you have no idea?”

  “Your girl messaged me—asked me to meet her here.” He looks around the apartment. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “Out.”

  He mutes the TV. “She’s not here?”

  “Nope.”

  He taps my chest with the back of his hand, and when I turn to him, he says, “So I have that info you asked for, but I don’t know how you’re going to react to it.”

  “Hit me.”

  “She doesn’t exist—Madison Haynes—at least not anyone that matches her description.”

  I rub my jaw and puff out a breath. “I kind of knew that already.”

  “You knew?”

  “Well yeah, that’s why I asked you. But I thought you’d be able to find a birth certificate… something.”

  “Ky, I searched. I can’t find shit about anyone with that name, and what the hell do you mean you knew?”

  “I can’t tell you,” I cut in. “It’s not my story to tell, Jax.”

  “Fine. But there’s more.”

  My attention peaks. “More?”

  “So I looked into the lease on her apartment…”

  “And?”

  “It was paid three months in advance… cash. And the name on the lease? Cash.”

  I shrug. “That’s not a big deal. I mean, maybe that’s all she could afford. It’s not like she has a credit history or social security.”

  He shakes his head. “What are you not telling me, Ky?”

  “Like I said, not my story.”

  “But it could be dangerous—”

  The front door opens and Madison steps in, grinning like the damn Cheshire cat when she sees both of us on the couch. “Good. You’re both here.”

  I would respond, if not for the fact that I can’t comprehend why the hell she’s holding a bouquet of white lilies.

  She stands in front of the TV, placing a plastic bag and the lilies on the coffee table. And then… nothing. She just stands there smiling at the both of us.

  I look over at Jax, but he’s focused on her. With a sigh, I stand up and take the steps to get to Madison. I grip her arm and turn my back on Jax so he can’t hear me whisper, “What the hell are the white lilies for? And why did you ask Jackson to come here?”

  She pulls back a little so she can look up at me. “Well…” she sings, “the white lilies go with this.” She reaches over to the bag on the table and pulls out a wooden picture frame, the word ‘MOM’ etched on the top. “Look,” she says, her grin still displayed. She points to the picture of an older woman with two young men standing on either side. “It could be you and Jax.”

  Jax chuckles.

  I glare at him, then give my attention back to Madison. “And what’s he here for?”

  “He’s my backup.”

  “Your backup?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yes, Ky, we’re going to visit Christine today—”

  “No, we’re not!”

  She flinches slightly. “And Jackson’s here to help me convince you.”

  I direct my gaze at Jackson. He holds his hands up in surrender, leans back into the couch, stretches his arms on the back of it, and kicks his feet up on the table. Then he shakes his head and waves a hand at us. “Carry on,” he states.

  I drag Madison by her arm into the bedroom and shut the door. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She sits on the edge of the bed, a perfect frown on her face. “It’s time, Ky.”

  “You don’t get to decide that, Maddy.”

  “Maybe not,” she says quietly, uncertainty in her eyes for the first time since she walked in. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” She hugs her waist. “I just know that I’d give anything to see my mother—or even have one that would want to see me.”

  My words catch in my throat while she just sits there, staring at me with pity in her eyes. Like I—out of the two of us—am deserving of pity. I sit next to her. “Are you doing this for me or you, Maddy?”

  “Neither,” she says. “I’m doing it for Christine and Jackson.”

  Her hand moves slowly down my arm, capturing my hand in hers. “We don’t have to go. I just thought…” she trails off.

  “You thought what?” I ask, turning back to her.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice, Ky? To be able to see her, for the three of you to be together again, mend some bridges or whatever. Christmas is coming up. We could spend it with them. You know… as a family.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re still going to want me in a few months when Christmas rolls around?”

  “I’m always going to want you, Kyler Parker.”

  I push Jackson’s feet off the coffee table. “You’re driving.”

  “Like I had a choice.”

  Chapter 26

  It takes us a half hour to drive to my childhood home.

  Jackson starts to slow when we pass my old house and then parks in front of Christine’s.

  By now, my thoughts are in overdrive; my palms have formed a sheen of sweat and my heart is racing. “It’ll be okay,” Madison assures me from the back seat.

  “There she is,” Jackson says, jerking his head out the window.

  And there she is—on her knees in the front yard, tending to the garden. It’s like time hasn’t changed her at all. I sniff the air—which seems stupid at the time, but doing so brings back all the memories I’ve tried hard to suppress.

  “Whenever you’re ready, man. We’re in no rush,” Jax says, and I nod, thankful that he understands my hesitation.

  “Here,” Madison says, grabbing my attention. I hold her gaze a moment while she offers the lilies to me, 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 needed.

  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, and after the third breath, I finally gain the courage. “Ma…”

  Her hands stop mid-movement, her head slowly lifting. She sets h
er 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.

  I’m 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 cheeks 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 doesn’t stop crying, but they aren’t tears of anger or disappointment like I’d thought. They’re tears of joy, maybe even a little relief.

  I help her to stand but keep her close.

  She offers me her cheek. “Give me a kiss!”

  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, her tone clipped. “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.