23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
C hance
My hands twitch on the steering wheel. I look out over the newly mown lawn to the front door. A window by the door is lit up, as expected. It’s only eight p.m. She’s still awake.
I half hoped to find all the lights off. Anything to make me turn around and go home, give myself the excuse that she isn’t available.
But that lit-up window mocks me.
I need to talk to her.
Yet, my body won’t move. Oh, I know what to say—the truth. Would she take it though? Would it mean anything to her?
I take a peek in the side mirror. No one’s coming behind me, or coming up ahead. I’m the only one out tonight sitting in the shadows like a stalker, watching her villa.
Pushing out a breath, I let the steering wheel go. I grab the fresh flowers I bought up on my way over.
Dirt crunches beneath my feet as I make my way up the walkway, onto her porch and knock.
She might as well slam the door in my face as soon as she sees it’s me. I know I’ll deserve that. Heck, I’ll take that over talking.
The door opens.
My throat closes.
Maddie stands before me in an oversized t-shirt. Her hair is packed up and away from her face and a sheen of wetness covers her lower lip, like she was in the middle of dinner when I knocked.
“I got you flowers.” I extend the bouquet.
Her gaze drops to it. She doesn’t move for a long time. Then finally, she takes it. “Thanks.”
She’s still not looking at me.
My heart fists. I knew to expect that she wouldn’t accept me with open arms. It still hurts to know it for certain.
I glance at our surroundings, then back to her. “May I come in?”
Her gaze whips up to me. “Why?”
“Just to talk.” I swallow. “I want to tell you everything.”
Maddie bites her lip, contemplation in her gaze. A beat passes and then she steps to the side, still holding the door open.
It should be a relief that she gave me an audience at all, but my stomach twists.
I would have to admit things I’ve kept to myself all these years, but she deserves that much.
Remnants of her dinner sit on a plate on the coffee table. Once the door closes, Maddie skirts around me to pick up the plate.
“Make yourself at home.” She waves at the living room before leaving.
I take a seat on a too-fluffy cushion and wait.
She returns with neither flower nor plate and drops into the chair opposite me. Her legs fold beneath her and she crosses her arms. She looks serene, but only a complete idiot would miss the hurt heavy in her eyes and the defiant tilt of her chin.
“What’s everything you think I should know?” she says.
I fix my gaze on my palms, rubbing them together. They’d rather be planted on her skin, pulling her into my lap and smelling the soft, warm fragrance of her skin. But right now, a table separates us, as well as my secrets have.
“My mom—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “My mom was the sweetest soul. She had a way of making everyone and everything better just by being present. She loved Dad, supported him, and she was his life.”
The skin of my face tightens as moisture builds behind my eyes. I quickly shake my head.
“Her only weakness was her illness. Diabetes runs in her family. We all knew that growing up. There were times when she’d need days to a week to get herself back after falling ill.
Dad made sure she had all the medical care she needed, and we boys were prepped on what to do if any crisis arised. Heck, even Landon knew at just eight.”
Memories float through my head, tugging at me. I focus on only what Maddie needs to know.
“He loved her very much and protected her.”
I exhale the air trapped in my lungs, still looking down at my hands. I’m not sure what I’ll see if I meet Maddie’s eyes. This could all mean nonsense to her.
When it’s eating me alive.
“We did love her too,” my voice breaks.
I was the oldest. I got to experience her the most out of all my brothers. I got to feel her love and care and scolding, and all the other great things that made her special.
And I took that away from them, especially Landon.
“Until I failed everyone.” The words suck the breath out of me. I entwine my fingers together to keep my emotions under control.
“I came home for the holidays and Dad promptly assigned me tasks to keep me busy at the company. It was a nice challenge, but I also wanted a break. So I took it on that Saturday morning. The previous day, Dad had taken Baxter and Landon for a weekend-long trip off the island for a school competition. They were to return on Sunday. Saturday was the only break I had from Dad’s pestering.
So I tossed my phone and went to the beach.
Something didn’t sit right but I chucked it up to guilt that I wasn’t working. I should have known.”
I bury my face in my hands, willing the thoughts to recede. But they are a part of me. I’ve replayed them a thousand times over the past years.
How I failed Mom. How I failed Dad. How I failed everyone.
I’m a fucking failure.
“I saw the calls when we got back to the car. I rushed home as quickly as I could but—” Deep breath . “The ambulance was already there. She was laid out on a stretcher. They were zipping up her body.”
Agony knots deep in my heart and pain claws up my throat. I swallow my tears with rapid breaths.
“It was all my fault. If only I’d done what I was meant to do. If only I stayed where I was supposed to, then she’d still be here.”
“You don’t know that,” a whisper cuts into my monologue.
My eyes lift to meet Maddie’s.
Her face is wet and her lashes carry beads of liquid.
She is crying… for me?
My heart collapses into my stomach. I don’t want her tears or sympathy. I want her to tell me I was an idiot, that I was wrong and foolish and failed everyone. And I deserve nothing good.
“Yet, it happened. Here we are.”
Her lips turn down. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, Chance.”
“Then who’s to blame? I should have been there for her.”
“No.” Her brows wrinkle, eyes softening. “The stupid genes that allowed her to have diabetes are to blame. The lack of a permanent cure is to blame. Don’t take that burden on yourself.”
I huff a sound. The burden is the only thing that defines me now. It’s my motivation. I’d never fail anyone else, because I’ll do what I commit to do.
“I’ve poured myself into my work, Maddie. That’s all I can do now. It makes me—”
“Worthy?” she snaps back. “You think that’s what your family needs from you? You think that’s what absolves you?”
“I’m not looking to be absolved. I can never be. I only want to pay back.”
“You won’t bring her back, no matter what you do.”
Her words hit me where it hurts the most. “No.”
“Yes, that’s the truth, Chance.” She sits up and leans forward. “I’m sorry. It breaks my heart what you went through, but it feels worse knowing this is how you have dealt with her death.”
“I’ve made it work so far.”
“No, living half a life isn’t making it work. Working yourself to the bone isn’t making it work. Choosing not to be happy?” Her throat bobs and she looks away. “That isn’t making it work.”
I say nothing. She’s just like the rest of my family. For the first few years after Mom’s passing, they tried to tell me how to live. Tell me to slow down, go easy on myself.
But they don’t realize when you go easy, that’s when people you love die.
No, that’s no way to live. The way I do it, that’s the way.
“Look,” her voice coaxes my gaze up. “I can’t tell you how to live, but from the little I know, I don’t think your mom would want you to keep punishing yourself, Chance.”
I bow my head. What do I do then? Go on as if nothing happened?
“Please?” Her voice shakes. “You don’t have to live in the past. You can acknowledge that you weren’t available when she called. But you can also acknowledge that you need to live outside that guilt and pain.”
I wish I could, but I don’t know how.
“You need to get help,” she says.
I lift my head.
“Talk to someone? I don’t know. Something. Anything.” She exhales, moving her head from side to side. “Like this, you’re not good for yourself, and I doubt you’d be good for anyone else.”
My chest tightens. “Maddie…” Is she rejecting me? Just because I feel guilty that my mom died doesn’t mean I can’t feel other things. And I do, I fucking feel a lot for her.
“You need to heal, Chance.” She squeezes her eyes shut but a tear escapes and lines her cheek.
I want to wipe it off, kiss her and make it better.
“For someone else,” she says.
What? “No.” I gulp. “I can do better. I will.”
“I don’t think trauma this great can be fixed in a couple of days.” She bites her lip.
She’s referring to her departure.
I don’t argue against that. Right now, I’m not sure what I feel.
When I say nothing in return, she wipes her eyes and rises to her feet. “I need to go to bed for tomorrow.”
I’m out the door when I take a full breath. It’s cold and flower-scented. Head down, I take the stoned path to my car.
I glance out once I’m behind the wheel. The light in the window goes off.
The finality of it fills me with dread. I thought I’d lose her when she left, not now. Not because I’m not worthy.
I hit the gas and move. I can hardly make out the road before me, lost in my head as I am.
I thought holding my guilt over Mom’s death and working as a recompense would make me accepted. Just to get a rejection because of that.
A mirthless laugh cracks from my throat. But then I sober quickly.
My family told me. Dad stood by me when she was lowered into the ground. He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezed. Aunt Felicia held me and promised she was a shoulder to cry on. My brothers and my cousin stayed close to me, even as kids, they cared. They saw I was broken and tried to help.
I expected to be disowned. Not doubly loved and supported.
I broke down three nights after, crying before Dad. He hugged me and told me he didn’t blame me.
“These things happen,” he said as if it was nothing.
As if I didn’t rip the family apart.
Guilt dug its hold into my heart and never left.
I drive to a stop outside my home. Getting out of the car, I look up. The stars are out tonight, dotting the sky like a million diamonds. Mom used to say that.
I sigh and lean against the door, staring up. What would she want?
I can imagine Mom scolding, asking why I’m so grumpy.
Why are you punishing yourself, son?
I deserve it.
Do you?
My jaw trembles. I clench my teeth.
I’m tired. The weariness sits deep in my bones. I want a break from all of it—the pain, the shame, the guilt.
“I want something different.”
I suck in a breath, watching the sky. Mom would want it too. She’d forgive me. I know this.
I want to forgive myself too.
I have to.
Can’t go on this way.
I’ll forgive myself. For the sake of my family and for Maddie’s sake.