44. Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Maddox
“Two Millers.” I lift my hand as I call out the order to Shorty.
Brady finally dragged me out for beers, but it’s hard to be relaxed when I haven’t seen Ivy since this morning. The news, along with everything happening between us has my nerves shot to shit. We take the two barstools at the end of the bar at the Mayson Jar. It’s quiet tonight. Sundays usually are and there’s only a few other people mingling around.
“Here you go boys.” Shorty drops the bottles down, before he’s wiping down the rest of the bar.
“So, how’s Ivy?” Brady asks before I even take my first drink.
“She’s ok,” I say before I take a gulp of the brew.
“I didn’t know she was staying with you,” he adds, and my instinct is to react with what the fuck does it matter to you?
But I just shrug. “With the big house gone, Coop didn’t have room. Her and Ryder are working on things so Cooper put her in Houston’s old room.”
He nods, taking his own drink. “I can’t believe someone did it intentionally.” He shakes his head. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah.” I use my thumb nail, peeling back the label as I try to figure out what to say.
We haven’t made small talk in years, and I never know how to navigate a conversation with him. In the past it always came back to dad, which then led to that night, which then led to yelling and punches thrown. So, I just wait for his que.
“Do you think Ivy would ever forgive me?” He asks.
The question startles me and gives me a feeling that has my chest tightening. "You’d have to ask her.”
He chuckles lightly. “I thought about it.” He takes a drink. “I know I fucked up. I know I wasn’t there for her.”
Yeah, I was.
“But she was there for me,” he continues. “When dad…” he trails off.
Dad and Ivy.
I would rather eat fresh cow shit than discuss either of these topics with him.
“I don’t know. I’m older now. Trying to get my life together. Ivy is the kind of woman that would make a good wife. She’d be loyal. Be a good mom."
I listen to him rattle off things about Ivy. Not a single one of those has to do with his feelings for her. It has to do with what she could be to him. Not once has he said that he missed her. Loved her. Longed for her.
“You think she’d give me another chance?” He questions next.
Considering she was climbing out of my bed this morning, probably not.
But I don’t say that. I don’t end the bullshit right now and tell him that I’m in love with her. That she’s mine. I don’t tell him not to ask her. Because at the end of the day, that’s Ivy’s choice.
“Don’t know brother. Again. You’d have to ask her.” I knock back a drink. “How’s the station?” I ask, changing the topic to something not so fucking heavy.
“Good. I’m glad I did it. It sucks sometimes. Some calls are hard, but all in all I’m actually happy.” He bumps his shoulder with mine. “How’s your semen factory?”
A laugh barks from my chest. “Fuck off.”
“Is that what you do all day? Jack off bulls?” He laughs.
Shaking my head I glance over at him and it’s the first time I can remember that both of us are laughing. Together.
“It’s an art really.” I shrug.
“Damn.” He finishes off his beer. “I’m glad you’re doing something you love.”
I nod, feeling that heavy weight again.
“I think dad would be proud,” he says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Maddox.” He pauses. “I’m…” he blows out a breath. “I’ve said some shitty things to you.”
I slap a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything, Brady. I understand.”
I can tell by the way his throat bobs he’s getting choked up. I’ve made it my mission to help him move on. To help him get through the grief. Even when he was cursing my name. I took it. When he would get drunk, break things, and make my mom cry from worry. I knew he needed someone to blame. And instead of telling him the truth about our father. I let him blame me.