Ballad of Love (Utah Lovin’ Book 1)

23. Braydon

Ifeel horrible asking Madison to watch Iris so last minute. I shouldn”t even be depending on her like this, but I didn”t know who else to call. I can”t make a habit of depending on her because then I will get attached.

“Brooks said they need some help finishing up a basement, so you and I are reinforcements,” Bryce says from the driver seat of the work truck. This doesn”t happen very often, so I don”t mind staying to help.

I tap my fingers nervously on the center console.

“What”s wrong?” I guess Bryce didn”t like the tapping.

“Nothing”s wrong. Sorry.” I clasp my hands and put them in my lap, so I don’t tap them.

“There is clearly something wrong. Is it because Madison is back in town?”

“No.”

“Well, that”s a lie. So, what is it?”

“Madison is watching Iris tonight.”

“Shouldn”t that be a good thing?”

“You would think, but I shouldn”t be depending on her like this.”

“Cause you are afraid she is going to leave again?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I might not be the best one to give advice on this subject, but I am going to do it anyway so you will stop moping like a sad puppy. If you really think the risk of letting her in is worth it, then go for it. Because, yeah, on one hand she could change her mind, and leave again, but on the other hand, you could have the life that you have always wanted. To me, the risk seems worth it.”

Bryce might actually be right. Am I going to tell him that out loud? Not in a million years. We drive the rest of the way in silence. Bryce is always quiet, but most of the time when he speaks you want to listen.

“Brooks and Beau are already in the basement. They just need us to help finish some last minute touches. It shouldn”t take us too long.”

“You know y’all really need to hire some more people?”

“Yeah, but we have trust issues so we would have to go back over all the work anyway.”

Bryce was right, it doesn”t take too long, and we are pulling into the ranch at eight-thirty. I shoot a quick text to Madison telling her that I am off and to send me her address. It feels weird driving to Madison”s house to pick up my daughter. Madison’s house is less than ten minutes away from mine, which is dangerous for me. I pull into the driveway of a quaint cottage. The door is a little lopsided and the porch could use a paint job, but it suits Madison. It definitely gives off a fairy garden aesthetic, which is probably what drew Madison to it in the first place. It has a white brick exterior with light pale blue shutters on the two front windows. There is a small garden around the base of the porch that could use some TLC, but come spring, Madison will have it blooming. I walk the porch steps, and they give a little under my weight. I add that to my mental list of things to fix for Madison. The front door”s paint is peeling, and I add that to my list too. I may just be using the list for reasons to be near Madison, but I am going to keep telling myself it is because I am genuinely trying to help out an old friend. It feels strange to knock on the front door, but I do it anyway.

“It”s open!” Madison”s voice yells from somewhere inside. I am going to have to tell her to be more careful about that. It”s a small town, but you still never know. I cautiously step over through the front door, and the smell of fresh baked cookies overwhelms my senses.

“Iris? Sweetie?”

“In here daddy!” Iris’s little voice yells from the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing in here?”

“Baking cookies,” Madison and Iris respond at the same time. This is a sight. Madison”s tiny kitchen is practically covered in a layer of flour. Three dozen cookies are cooling on the counter, and another layer of flour coats both of the girls. Iris is wearing her favorite pink pajamas with little red hearts on them, and her usually wild curls are pulled back into two french braids.

“I hope you don”t mind. I promise, I did give her a bath, but then she wanted cookies.”

“I don”t mind at all. Iris we should get going, though, sweetheart. Got to get you to bed.”

“I gotta go, Maddie,” Iris tells Madison with a serious look on her face.

“Ok, Iris. I had a lot of fun hanging out with you!”

“Can I come over again?”

“Anytime.” Iris gives Madison a quick hug before she jumps into my arms.

“Thank you again, Mads. I owe you big for this one.”

“No, Braydon, you don”t. I am happy to help. She is a really great kid.”

“We will see you on Saturday then.” Iris lays her head on my shoulder.

“Did you have fun, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Can I hang out with Maddie again?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” I buckle iris into her seat, and she is almost asleep by the time I get in and start my truck. She is out cold by the time I pull out of Madison”s driveway. The short drive home is silent, besides Iris’s faint snoring. Maybe someday I will be driving home to Madison, rather than driving away from her. Today is not that day though. I pull into my driveway and up to the life that I have built for Iris and I. I am proud of it, and I am damn proud of the daughter I have raised so far. There are days I wish my mom was still around to see it. I know that she would just adore Iris. In so many ways Iris reminds me a lot of her. So I hope she would be proud to. I gently scoop Iris out of her carseat and wrap her in a flannel I had in the backseat of my truck. Coming home to an empty house isn”t my favorite part of the day, but it is what it is I guess. Maybe I should get a dog or something. Iris keeps begging me for one. I push the thought to the back of my mind for now, so I can tuck Iris into bed and give her a kiss goodnight. I forego picking up the toys scattered across the living room floor and decide to take a shower instead. I settle into my bed after my warm shower, and it doesn”t take me long to fall asleep.

The rest of my week passes in a blur of pretty little dresses, helping extra with concrete, and lots of Taylor Swift dance parties in the kitchen. I stop by the only hardware store in town to pick up a can of pale blue paint for Madison”s front door.

Me: Are we still on for tonight?

I shouldn”t be this nervous, but I am. Maybe I am just scared she changed her mind.

Mads: yes!! I have been looking forward to it all week.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips.

“Daddy, are we going over to your friend”s house?” I pull Iris up off the floor and into my lap.

“Yes, sweetheart. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes. I like your friend. Her cat is really nice too.”

“She has a cat?”

“Her name is Layla. She is orange and white.”

“We should probably get you ready to go.”

“Can I wear my Taylor Swift shirt?”

“Sure.”

I walk with Iris upstairs to get her dressed. I pull out her “My Dad is a Swiftie” sweatshirt and some leggings. Adalynn bought her this sweatshirt at a small shop on a trip she went on. I don”t love it, but I love Iris so I let her wear it. Occasionally.

“Are there any toys you want to bring with us?”

Iris grabs her backpack and fills it with a wide array of toys off the floor in her room.

“All ready to go?”

“Yep! Let”s go!”

Iris skips down the stairs, and I follow closely behind. She grabs her blue Converse by the front door and slips them on. I bend down to tie them for her, then slip my cowboy boots on.

The drive to Madison’s is short and sweet. She is already waiting for us in the rocking chair on her front porch. I unbuckle Iris, and she runs up the front steps and jumps into Madison”s arms.

“Maddie, can I play with your kitty?”

“Of course. She is probably hiding somewhere inside.”

Iris runs inside and leaves Madison and I on her front porch.

“I like her shirt,” Madison says with a laugh.

“It was a gift from Adalynn.”

“I have probably a hundred cookies left over from the other night, and I can order pizza whenever y’all get hungry.”

“Thanks, Mads. I brought a little surprise for you.”

“You didn”t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“What is it?” Madison asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

I walk back to my truck and pull out the can of paint I bought at the hardware store yesterday.

“You brought a can of paint?”

“Don”t seem so disappointed. I noticed the other night the paint on your front door was peeling. I figured while I was working on it tonight, I could also paint it. It”s the same color as the shutters.”

“Oh my gosh, Braydon. That is so sweet. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

I look at Madison all cozy in her rocking chair, with a blanket and her book, and I once again have the urge to kiss her. I feel this pull, almost like an invisible string tying me to her. Madison clears her throat and breaks me out of my thoughts.

“I should go check on Iris and order our pizza.”

“I will get started on your door.”

Madison breezes past me, and my skin tingles from where she brushed me. This is stupid, I am a grown man. I can handle myself around Madison.

“You can do this,” I tell myself, retrieving my tool bag from the bed of my truck. It shouldn”t be this hard. Madison and I are both adults. We can coexist and be just friends.

But I don”t think I want to be just friends with Madison. I think I want to give us a second chance.