Chapter 15
Atlas
The damn cabinet door won’t shut right.
I shove it harder than necessary, the bang echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot.
The drawer handle rattles in protest. Grayce doesn’t seem to care.
She’s in her playpen babbling at the ceiling fan, plastic ring shoved in her mouth like its filet mignon.
But the sound pulls Maddie’s eyes off her laptop, and now she’s watching me with that sharp, assessing gaze that has me bracing.
“You okay over there?” she asks.
“Fine.” The word snaps out before I can temper it. I take a sip of coffee, scald my tongue, and mutter a curse.
The truth? I’m not fine. The downside to sweeping a round in four games is that we’re in wait mode until the next round starts.
The buzz of playoff adrenaline goes into hibernation, which is like slamming on the brakes of a runaway freight train.
My entire being is tuned for motion and competition, and instead I’m stuck in neutral.
It makes me restless, feeling out of place in my own skin.
“Fine,” Maddie repeats, arching a brow. “Did the toaster hurt your feelings too?”
I drag a hand down my face. Normally, I’d give her a smart-ass comeback, but today I just sigh. “Sorry. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“And why’s that?” she asks, pushing her laptop aside and fully turning my way.
I lift a shoulder. “Playoffs.”
“I need more than that.”
“It’s hard to explain, but the energy required, and even caused, by the playoffs is almost supernatural. When you’re in the thick of it, it’s a vibe that takes over your entire being. And now that we have to wait for the next round to start, it feels like a big letdown. Does that make sense?”
She nods. “It does. But I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position. What would you do in the past?”
It takes me no time to ponder. “Go hang out with friends, do some adventuring like a hike. Something fun.”
“So go do those things,” she says, and I listen carefully for the judgment I expect to hear in her tone. “Nothing is tying you here.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?” I grumble. “Because you just made it sound like a sin if I were to go do that.”
“I most certainly did not,” Maddie says, her chin lifted in the air. “I’m saying you are allowed to have a life outside of Grayce and you’re allowed to have it without guilt.”
That sounds genuine, but I’m having a hard time accepting it.
“Yeah, but I do feel guilty.” Her blue eyes stay steady on me, and she remains quiet, allowing me the time to work my way through this.
It doesn’t take long, and I let out a long-suffering sigh.
“And I know you don’t expect me to be here all the time.
I’m just trying to learn all of this as I go. ”
For a second, she looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether to argue or ignore me. Then, to my surprise, she shuts her laptop and stands. She scoops Grayce out of the playpen, kisses her head, then levels me with a look.
“Want to get out of here?”
I blink. “What?”
“Let’s head over to the park a few blocks over. She’d like the swings.” She bounces Grayce, who squeals in approval. Maddie’s mouth quirks. “And you clearly need to stop glaring at appliances.”
A laugh almost escapes me. I choke it down, but my mood shifts anyway.
We had a great time day before yesterday shopping for groceries.
Prior to that, we’d taken a nice walk through the neighborhood and chatted about simple stuff, and we avoided talking about Gray.
Not because we’re sidestepping the pain, but because it felt like a day to not wallow in grief.
“But you’re working. I know you’re trying to get your cases summarized for the other caseworkers.”
Maddie shakes her head. “I can take time for myself too, you know.”
I study her for a moment, and I know she’s doing this for me. I know she’d sit there and work if I weren’t so cagey. Maybe if I take her up on her offer, she’ll be forced to practice what she’s preaching.
“All right,” I say, suddenly feeling like this is a great idea and I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before. “Let’s do it.”
?
The air is cool and crisp, another day of brilliant blue skies and the sun darting in and out of white fluffy clouds. I push the stroller down the pristine sidewalk, Maddie walking beside me with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets.
Every few feet, Grayce chatters like the world is brand new. I point out a dog tugging its leash and her eyes widen with wonder.
“We should get Grayce a dog,” Maddie says.
“I was thinking that too.” I glance over at her. “Did you ever have one growing up?”
Maddie shakes her head. “Not really. One foster family I was with had a little dog that barked at everything. I wasn’t there long enough to form a bond with it though.”
I chew on that a moment. “Not there long enough. Is that how it always worked? You just kept moving?”
Her shoulders lift, then fall. “That’s the reality for a lot of kids in the system.
Sometimes placements don’t work out. Sometimes families only take kids for the stipend.
Sometimes they realize it’s harder than they thought, or they only want babies or only want one gender.
You bounce. New house, new rules, new school.
Over and over. And once you get old enough?
Families don’t usually want teenagers. Too much baggage, they think. ”
I frown. “So you’re just waiting? For someone to decide to keep you?”
“Pretty much,” she says quietly. “Some kids get lucky. Some don’t.
The older you get, the harder it is to find permanency.
That’s why so many age out still in the system.
” She exhales, eyes on Grayce. “You’ve obviously figured out that’s what drove me to social work.
I knew those kids needed someone who understood both sides of it. ”
I nod, but it still feels impossible to wrap my head around. “What was it really like? Day to day?”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then says, “Depends on the house. Some were fine. Some were… not. You learn to pack light, physically and emotionally. Don’t get attached, because you’ll be gone in a month. You get really good at reading moods. You don’t ask for anything. You make yourself small.”
My chest twists. “What’s the worst?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “I mean, what’s one thing that happened that’s stuck with you?”
Her face goes still, like she’s deciding whether to slam the door shut.
Then her voice comes low and even. “There was one family who would eat dinner right in front of me and not let me join. They’d say I already ate or that food was expensive.
I’d just go sit upstairs, listening to plates clink and smell it through the vents.
If I was lucky, they’d hand me a bowl of cereal after. ” She swallows hard. “I was ten.”
My hands tighten on the stroller bar. I want to go back in time and drag that family out of their house, make them see her. “Jesus, Maddie…”
She shrugs one shoulder, trying for casual, but her eyes give her away.
“That’s just one story. Everyone who’s been through the system has dozens.
Some worse than mine. I was lucky in that I was never physically abused.
Just severely neglected.” She hesitates a moment, before giving me a smile of solidarity.
“A lot like you. Except it was the same people doing it to you over and over again.”
I shake my head. “I had it good compared to you.”
Maddie stops and places her hand on my arm. “No, you didn’t. Indifference is traumatic no matter the setting.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Just the heavy realization that I’ll never fully understand, but I can damn well listen.
Maddie studies me, then asks quietly, “What about you? What was a typical day?”
I let out a slow breath. “Hmm… let’s see.
Dad was a car salesman—big on charm, not so big on follow-through.
He’d promise he’d make it to my games, pump me up before walking out of the house in the morning, then not show.
Mom worked at a bank. She was steady at her job, but when she came home, she was tired.
Stressed. Her way of encouraging me was telling me I was strong enough to handle things on my own.
Which sounds nice, except what it meant was I did handle it on my own.
She wasn’t very nurturing. There weren’t hugs and I love yous in our home.
No one checked my grades, no one made sure I had dinner.
It was just assumed I could do for myself, so I did. ”
Maddie’s brows pinch. “You basically raised yourself.”
“Yeah. Lugging my gear across snowy Buffalo streets because Dad ‘got caught up with a client’ or Mom was too drained to come pick me up. By high school, I had a job to pay for equipment and travel tournaments—wasn’t like we couldn’t afford it.
I just didn’t want to give them another chance to let me down. ”
Her lips press together, and her eyes glisten. “That sounds lonely. I wonder why they were like that?”
“No clue,” I admit. “Both sets of grandparents were gone when I was pretty young, so I’m guessing it’s how my parents were raised. I’ve never been close enough to either of them to ask.”
“And do you have a relationship with them now?” she asks.
“No. When I made it to the professionals, my dad tried to insinuate himself into my life, but he just liked the fame. I couldn’t stand to hear him brag about how he helped me be the man I was.
It was offensive. We don’t talk much. Maybe the occasional text or call around the holidays.
” I pause, throat tightening. “I haven’t even told them that Gray died or about Grayce, and I don’t feel compelled to. ”
“That says a lot,” Maddie murmurs.