Chapter Twenty-Nine
Life without Madison in it is…not good.
My black eye heals, but my heart doesn’t.
It stays fractured and broken.
I am broken.
I try to keep busy. I play lots of hockey, score more points, get in a few rounds of golf with the boys. You name it, I’m there trying to do it, all in an effort to keep my mind and body moving.
But none of that matters.
My life, my accomplishments, my pastimes, they mean nothing without the woman I love by my side.
I am lost without Madison.
“How did I ever get like this?” I ask Shane.
We’re on the fifteenth hole at our favorite golf club. There are clouds rolling in fast and furious. We’re hoping to get in this full round before it starts raining, as Phoenix storms can be fierce this time of year.
Easton couldn’t make it today, so it’s just me and Shane on the links.
It’s probably for the best.
Even though Easton hasn’t said one bad word to me about what happened with Madison and our subsequent breakup, I know he’s thinking somewhere inside that it was all predictable. Because I’m an asshole and a jerk who couldn’t just be honest from the start.
But I’m not a jerk!
I’m really not.
I was once, but no more.
I’ve changed so much.
And I owe it all to Madison.
That’s why I should’ve told her about my interview with Meredith.
Still, was that really so awful that she needs to cut me out of her life?
How can we be over when we’ve only just begun?
What happened here and how is my life such a mess?
I guess I blurt that last thought out loud, because Shane leans on his club—he just hit the ball from the tee—and replies, “Dude, what happened is that you fell in love. But don’t lose hope. I really think Madison will come around. You two are meant for each other. Everyone sees that.”
This guy—forever the optimist. For someone who strikes out so much in dating, he’s still able to look at things with positivity.
I wish I could be more like that.
I’m just doom and gloom these days.
Shane and I switch places, and I line up the ball that’s on the tee.
Swinging my club back, I say, “I hope you’re right.”
I then hit the ball with all my might, and it goes far.
It almost makes it to the green.
“Wow, great shot,” Shane remarks.
His ball isn’t too far from mine, so I say, “Thanks,” and add, “yours was damn good too.”
“Hey, thanks, man,” he says as we hop into the cart and jet off.
I’m driving, so I zoom out as fast as I can to the fairway to where our golf balls are. It’s not very busy today at the course—probably because of the impending rain—and I’m thankful for that. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of people right now.
I stop where Shane’s ball is located first.
He gets out of the cart and hits it easily up to the green.
I go next, my ball also making it onto the green.
Back into the cart we go, with Shane driving this time.
Even though I’m having a decent golf game, my mind is on Madison. It is all the time, more so now than when we were together.
That’s saying a lot.
“I’m sorry to keep bringing it up,” I say to Shane, “but do you think I should call or text Madison?”
He brings the cart to a stop at the green, but we don’t get out right away.
“I don’t know, Lennox,” he says, shaking his head. “Didn’t she tell you not to contact her in any way?”
“Yes, she did say that,” I admit. “But what if she thinks I don’t care? Maybe I should at least just send one text.”
Shane shrugs. “I don’t know, man.”
I think he’s had it with me.
I don’t blame him.
I’m sick of me too.
Taking out my phone, I say, “I’m going to send one text and that’s it. I just need her to know that I still care. If she hates me even more for doing this, then so be it. But I have to try.”
Sighing, Shane mumbles under his breath, “I guess it can’t get any worse.”
He’s actually right, so I type out my text and hit Send.
It reads:
I love you. I miss you. I’m here when you’re ready.