11. Maddox Creed #4
The therapist didn’t rush me or try to fill the silence. She just sat there patiently, waiting for me to find the words when I was ready.
I rubbed my jaw again before finally speaking.
“I think anything can be saved.” The words came slowly because I wanted to make sure I meant every one of them. “I think people survive worse shit than this every day.”
The therapist gave a slow nod before asking, “What makes this different?”
“Because this ain’t just one thing.”
I looked down at the floor for a second before lifting my eyes again.
“This ain’t one lie. It ain’t one argument or one mistake.” I shook my head slowly. “Every time I think I’ve wrapped my head around one part of it, another part comes out of nowhere and knocks me right back down.”
The words came easier now because they were the truth.
“I find out I got a daughter, then I find out my wife knew about her. I finally start trying to process that, then I find out my daughter was kept from me. Before I can even make sense of that, I find out paperwork was involved.”
I let out a slow breath and rubbed my hand across my jaw.
“Every time I feel like I’m getting my footing back, something else comes along and knocks me on my ass.”
The room grew quiet.
The therapist listened.
Luciana cried.
And I sat there feeling like somebody had taken the life I’d spent years building, cracked it wide open, and dumped every broken piece right in front of me.
“That sounds exhausting,” the therapist said gently.
“It is…”
The answer came without hesitation because there wasn’t any other way to describe it.
I was tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep could fix. Not the kind money could solve or success could distract me from.
I was tired in a way I’d never been before.
The therapist leaned back in her chair and studied me for a moment.
“Despite all of that… you’re still here.”
I looked at her, then let my eyes drift toward Luciana before looking away again.
“Yeah…”
“Why?”
I sat here for a few seconds, trying to come up with the right answer. Eventually, I stopped chasing the perfect response and gave her the only honest one I had.
“Because walking away would’ve been easier.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luciana’s head snap up.
“If I wanted to leave,” I continued, “I could’ve filed papers, moved out, and started over. Hell, that would’ve been a whole lot easier than sitting in this room talking about shit I don’t even like thinking about.”
The therapist nodded slowly.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
This time, I didn’t answer right away.
My eyes drifted toward the ceiling before falling to my hands. Eventually, they found Luciana.
The tears still hadn’t stopped.
Part of me hated seeing them.
The other part was too damn tired to know what to do about them.
“Because…” I let out a slow breath before finally finishing the thought. “Despite everything… I ain’t ready to quit.”
The words had barely left my mouth before Luciana broke.
A sob escaped her before she could stop it, and she immediately covered her mouth, embarrassed by the sound.
The therapist quietly reached for the tissue box and handed it to her. Luciana accepted it without looking up, dabbing at her eyes while the room settled into silence again.
For a while, nobody spoke. It wasn’t because anybody felt uncomfortable. We were all sitting there thinking about everything that had just been said and what it meant moving forward.
The therapist leaned back in her chair, giving us both the space to sit with it. Across from me, Luciana was still wiping tears from her face, doing her best to pull herself together.
I knew that look.
I’d seen it before.
Not recently.
Years ago, whenever she was trying to figure out how to say something she knew wasn’t going to be easy.
The problem was, I had a feeling whatever she was about to say wasn’t something I wanted to hear.
Eventually, the therapist turned her attention toward her.
“Luciana, when Maddox says he isn’t ready to quit, what does that mean to you?”
Fresh tears immediately filled her eyes.
Hope…
That was the first thing I saw—hope.
The kind a drowning person grabbed onto because it was the only thing keeping them afloat.
“It means he’s still here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It means he hasn’t completely given up on us.”
The therapist gave a small nod.
“And how does that make you feel?”
Luciana let out a quiet laugh through her tears.
“Relieved,” she admitted before letting out a shaky breath. “Terrified too.”
That got my attention. My eyes lifted to her, and judging by the look on the therapist’s face, it got hers too.
“What are you afraid of?”
Luciana lowered her eyes to the tissue twisted between her fingers. She sat there quietly for several seconds, almost like she was arguing with herself over whether she should say what was really on her mind.
The therapist leaned forward just enough to remind Luciana she wasn’t alone.
“Luciana.” Her voice stayed calm. “What are you afraid of?”
A shaky breath left Luciana’s lips, followed by another.
When she finally looked up, she didn’t look at the therapist.
She looked at me.
The knot in my stomach immediately tightened.
I didn’t know what she was about to say, but I knew something was coming. Something she’d been carrying around. Something she’d been trying to find the courage to tell me.
“I haven’t been completely honest.”
The words landed between us like a damn brick.
The therapist remained calm and asked, “What haven’t you been honest about?”
Luciana closed her eyes for a brief second before opening them again. I watched her swallow. Watched her fight to steady her breathing. Watched the fear spread across her face until it became impossible to ignore.
For the first time since we’d walked into this office, she looked more scared than guilty.
That bothered me.
Guilt, I understood.
Fear meant something else.
Fear meant she already had some idea of how I was going to react.
“Luciana,” the therapist said softly. “You don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”
The tears came harder after that.
Not the quiet tears she’d been trying to hide all afternoon.
These were different.
These were the kind that came when somebody had reached the end of what they could carry alone.
Nobody interrupted her.
Nobody rushed her.
The room stayed completely quiet while she fought to get herself together.
Eventually, she took one long, unsteady breath…
Then looked directly at me, and that’s when I knew, whatever came next was about to change everything.
“I stopped taking my birth control.”
For a second, my brain refused to process what she’d just said.
Everything around me seemed to disappear. The therapist. The office. The sound of the air conditioner humming in the background. All I could hear were those six words repeating themselves over and over in my head.
I stopped taking my birth control.
I stared at Luciana, honestly wondering if I’d heard her wrong. Maybe I’d misunderstood what she meant. Maybe there was another explanation.
“No…” I shook my head.
Across from me, Luciana broke down even harder, but I barely noticed. My pulse was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, and it took everything in me to keep my voice under control.
“What the fuck do you mean you stopped taking it?”
The question came out lower than normal—dangerously low.
The kind of voice that only showed up when I was fighting like hell to keep myself together.
Luciana’s hands trembled as she gripped the tissue.
“I wanted another baby.”
The confession poured gasoline on a fire that was already out of control.
A vicious laugh escaped my mouth.
“You wanted another baby?” I looked at her like I was seeing a complete stranger. “You wanted another baby, so you stopped taking birth control without telling me?”
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to meet my eyes.
“I wanted a daughter… You know that.”
I just stared at her, trying to make those words fit together in my head.
“What the fuck that got to do with you stopping your birth control?”
My voice stayed calm—too calm—the kind of calm that usually came right before I completely lost my shit.
“I know I should’ve told you.” She whispered through her tears. “I know I should’ve been honest… but I wasn’t.”
I laughed again.
Of course she wasn’t being fucking honest. That seemed to be the theme of our whole fucking marriage lately.
Make the decision first…
Tell me never…
Let me find out later…
The therapist shifted in her chair, but I didn’t look at her.
My eyes stayed on Luciana because I needed to see her face when she explained this shit.
I needed to know how my wife sat in another therapy session crying about losing me while still carrying around another decision she’d made behind my back.
“How the fuck you gon’ say, you know you should’ve told me, but you didn’t. That shit don’t even sound right.”
Luciana wiped at her face, but more tears replaced the ones she cleared.
“Listen, I know it was wrong…”
“Wrong?” I repeated, my voice low. “Luciana, you stopped taking birth control without telling your husband. That ain’t just wrong. That’s another decision you made for both of us.”
Her face crumbled.
“But I wanted another baby.”
“We already knew that,” I snapped. “You told me you wanted another baby. We talked about another baby. That wasn’t a secret.”
She flinched at my tone.
Good… Because I needed her to understand that this wasn’t about me not wanting the child she was carrying.
This wasn’t about me blaming an innocent baby for grown folks’ bullshit.
My issue was with her. With the pattern.
With the fact that every time something major happened in my life lately, Luciana’s fingerprints were somewhere on the decision before I even got a chance to know it existed.
I sat back against the couch and stared at her in disbelief.
“You knew where I stood…”
Her lips trembled.
“Maddox—”
“No.” My voice cut through hers before she could finish. “Don’t Maddox me. You knew exactly where the fuck I stood.”