Chapter 9
Maddox
“You okay, bro?” Nathan asks me. For maybe the millionth time this evening.
“Yeah. I was okay an hour ago. I was okay twenty minutes ago. And guess what? I’m still fucking okay now.”
He holds up his hands. “Right. Chill out, Incredible Hulk. The fact that you’re so snappy tells me maybe you’re not as okay as you claim.”
“And the fact that you’re so fucking annoying tells me you’re not as perceptive as you think you are.”
We glare at each other, the room tense as Melanie walks in with baby Henry in her arms, and Luke wrapped around her legs. She senses the mood immediately and raises her eyebrows at us.
“Now now, boys, let’s behave like grown-ups shall we. And I’m not talking to Luke and Henry here.”
Nathan softens immediately and takes the baby from her.
Luke flies towards me, and I scoop him up in my arms, blowing raspberries onto his chubby belly.
He giggles away, cute as hell in his little dinosaur PJs.
All the kids—the two boys and Amelia and Drake’s baby girl, Evie—are staying at home with Ashley.
She says she’s looking forward to a night with her munchkins, and I know everyone feels a lot better leaving them with her than a sitter.
“Mel, you look beautiful,” I say, dropping a kiss on her head.
Nathan is staring at her with fire in his eyes, his gaze roaming her body. Guess he feels the same way. “And Nathan, I’m sorry I’ve been a… grump,” I finish, conscious of Luke. He’s quite the chatterbox these days, and I don’t want him going into kindergarten saying his Unca Mad used a bad word.
I give Luke a cuddle and chuck the baby under the chin. Gorgeous little chubmuffins. Their presence is enough to calm me right down.
Nathan nods at me and helps Melanie get the kids settled for bed. I stay in the kitchen, eying the open bottle of Champagne that sits on the counter.
Fuck. This will never be easy. My family seem to think I’m some kind of Buddhist monk, like I have an iron will. The truth is, every day is a battle—some more than others.
Today is tough. Today would have been Yasmin’s birthday, if she’d lived. I’ve already made my annual pilgrimage to visit her dad in prison, and that is never a fun time. But as shit as it is for me, he has it so much worse than I do.
There’s no reason for Nathan to know this. No reason for any of them to know. No reason for me to even remember her birthday, really. If we’d split up like a normal teenage couple, both alive and healthy, I probably wouldn’t. But after her death, everything about her became ingrained in me.
Yasmin took her own life after she was brutally raped at a football party I took her to. She was drunk and out of her depth. We had a huge fight, and she told me to leave. Because I was furious, I followed her advice.
But I still shouldn’t have left her there. I still shouldn’t have stormed off and abandoned her in a place where she was destroyed by predators.
I feel the familiar flow of regret and anger.
What if I hadn’t left her at that party?
What if she hadn’t been raped? What if the justice system wasn’t so rigged against a poor girl who looked like trouble, allowing the bastards to be acquitted?
What if she hadn’t been brutalized a second time on the stand during the trial?
So many what-ifs. Only one ending—her death.
And theirs, of course. The men who raped her. They were cocky, arrogant, laughing at what they got away with. Two of them were killed by Yasmin’s own father. The third…well, that’s another story. Same ending, though.
I take some deep breaths. Repeat my mantras.
Remind myself that I was a child too. That I must accept what I cannot change.
At that time in my life, I was already broken from losing my mom.
Even at seventeen I was constantly high, always looking for the next way to escape the pain inside me.
Yasmin was another addiction, but I loved her as much as I could love anyone back then.
When it all happened, I broke even more.
I snapped in two. I thought I was a monster, and I hated myself.
On days like this, a bottle of wine is still hard to resist.
By the time Nathan comes back in, one eyebrow raised, I’m calm. “It’s Yasmin’s birthday,” I tell him simply. Of all my brothers, Nathan knows the most about that time in my life.
A flicker of sadness crosses his face. “I’m sorry, Mad.”
I appreciate that he doesn’t go on about it. He just clasps me into his arms and gives me a bear hug. Then he holds me by the shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “I love you, bro. And I’m so fucking proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Yeah?” I ask, grinning. “So far I’ve accomplished fuck all, but thanks.”
“You’re here with us. You make a difference every single day. You’re one of the best human beings I know.”
I know he means it, but right now I don’t feel so positive. So I make light of it, pushing down the demons of my past. “Yeah, well, you hang round with the Irish mob, so... Shall we go?”
He shakes his head and glances at his watch. “Yep. Is it hard, being sober?”
I didn’t expect that question, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Nathan knows me well. He’s guessed I’m struggling beyond what I’d ever admit.
“Yes,” I say simply. “Not all the time. I spent years in a fuzz, so these days I appreciate the clarity. But yeah, not gonna lie, sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I’d like to take the edge off the way you guys can.
I’m not like you guys though, and I never will be.
That’s a straight-up fact and there’s no use crying like a baby about it. ”
“True. So wipe your eyes, little man, and let’s go put on a James brothers show. Or Amber will at best disembowel us, at worst look disappointed.”
I smile to myself as he leaves the kitchen. It sounds the wrong way ‘round, but I know what he means. He and Amber have a checkered history, but these days there’s genuine affection between them. None of us want to let her down.
Besides, I want to do this. I want to be around my family today.
God knows I need the distraction, and there’s a chance I’ll get to talk to Ellie.
She’s continued to politely blank me every time I see her, and it’s getting old.
Tonight, we’ll be in a social setting, away from the workplace. Maybe it’ll be easier to break through.
We had such a special connection back in Marrakech, the kind of spark I don’t think I’ve ever felt before or since.
And I know she felt it too. We shared things about our pasts that we both admitted we usually kept private.
She knows me better after one night than most people who have known me for years.
At the very least we could be friends, couldn’t we?
And for that reason I need to resolve whatever this tension is between us.
I raise my glass of sparkling apple juice in a toast to the girl who will remain forever young and always have a place in my heart. “Happy birthday, Yas. Wish me luck.”