Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Madison
After the heat of Beckett’s skin and the roar of the shower, stillness presses in on me.
We’ve hardly left each other’s side for the last couple of days, and I’m feeling a strange hole in my gut without him here.
I look up at the ceiling where I’d usually hear his thudding, but it’s quiet tonight. Whatever frustration that was building in his body was worked out on me. He went to work an hour ago, but I’m still waiting for my heart to rest so I can sleep.
I’m standing in my kitchen barefoot, nursing a glass of water I don’t even want, staring at the flickering city lights. I’m trying to mentally untangle the collision of our two worlds, but it’s useless.
I’m nervous and honestly scared to death because I’m sinking into him. I’m terrified of losing myself so deep that I won’t find a way out.
Or maybe I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s how I’ve lived my life. Why would this be any different? I curse myself for it. Why can’t I just feel something and let it be?
I’m waiting for him to see something in me that doesn’t fit into his life.
No, Madison, you’re padding your heart for the break.
I throw my head back and groan.
For everyone else, I’m solid.
I’m the one who shows up with solutions and spreadsheets and emergency chocolate. I’m the calm voice in a crisis. The sister who handles it. The daughter who absorbs it. The woman who laughs too loudly and pretends she’s in control of every variable in the room.
But Beckett doesn’t just look at me.
Those brown eyes don’t skim the surface and move on.
They linger.
They see me.
And that is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.
What if he looks too closely? What if he searches past the sarcasm and the competence and the perfectly timed jokes and finds the mess underneath?
The girl who’s been bracing for impact her whole life.
The one who only feels useful when she’s needed.
The one who doesn’t actually know who she is when there’s nothing to fix.
So much for confident Madison.
Confident Madison doesn’t lie awake in the middle of the night wondering whether the man upstairs will realize she’s more fragile than she pretends to be.
Confident Madison doesn’t panic at the thought of someone caring for her without conditions.
But I’m not her. Not really.
I’m just very good at playing her.
Three hesitant taps on the door pull me from the spiral.
For one reckless second, I think it’s Beckett, coming back because we can’t do anything in moderation.
I check the peephole.
It’s Piper.
I open the door, and my little sister looks terrified. Her face is blotchy and swollen, her eyes rimmed in violent red. Her hands are shaking so badly she looks like she’s vibrating out of her skin.
“Madi?” Her voice fractures on my name.
Everything in me snaps into place.
I pull her inside before my hands settle on her shoulders, scanning her as if I’m triaging a patient. “Piper, what happened? Are you hurt?”
She’s clutching a small overnight bag.
“Can I stay?” she whispers. “Just for tonight?”
“Of course you can. God, Piper, you’re shaking.”
I guide her toward the sofa, but she won’t sit. She just stands in the middle of my living room, looking smaller than I’ve seen her since Mom threw a glass across the kitchen when she was twelve.
“Talk to me,” I say. “What’s going on?”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, making a broken, wet sound that splits straight through my ribcage.
“It was just an argument with Ezra,” she says too quickly. “It was silly.”
I look at the bag.
“It can’t be that silly if you’re here at two in the morning with your luggage.”
Her spine stiffens. I can practically see her building her defenses. I’ve never been Ezra’s biggest fan. There’s just something I can’t put my finger on about him, and Piper knows it.
“I knew this was a mistake.” She turns abruptly toward the door. “I should go. Rowan’s place isn’t that far.”
“Stop.” I’m in front of her. “I’m not judging you. I’m worried.”
“You don’t have to be,” she shoots back. “People argue with their fiancés. It’s normal.”
“Then let me help. I can call him, or we can talk it through, or—”
“You can’t.”
The air goes brittle.
“Piper, I’m trying to understand. Did he hurt you? Because if he so much as—”
“No!” she shouts, the sound ricocheting off my ceilings. “He didn’t hurt me. I just need somewhere to stay where I’m not being… handled.”
Handled?
I feel the instinct rise in me—the fixer. The manager. The one who smooths. Who negotiates. Who rearranges the emotional furniture until everyone can breathe again.
“I’m just trying to take care of things,” I tell her.
“That’s the problem, Madison!” she bursts. “You always think you have to fix everything. You take over. You manage us. I’m not Mom. You don’t need to fix me so you can feel better about yourself.”
Her hands fly over her mouth, but it’s too late. Her words hit like a slap.
The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me, but I swallow around it.
“Madi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed and—”
“You did mean it,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though my chest feels like it’s cracking open. “And you’re not wrong. I do try to fix things, but only because I’ve had to.”
“Nobody asked you to.”
“You were children,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You didn’t have to ask.”
“You were a child too. You’re two years older than me,” she whispers. “You never let us. You never asked for help.”
“It wasn’t your job, Piper!”
“And it’s yours?”
There it is.
The fracture line.
Piper and Rowan always had each other. Noah and I were the wall. We stood at the front door and absorbed whatever version of Mom showed up that day.
I knew Piper and Rowan were closer. I told myself it didn’t matter, but it still hurts
“Then why is it that everyone comes to me when everything is falling apart?” I ask, and this time my voice shakes. “Why am I only needed in a crisis? I’m the one you call at two in the morning. I handle the doctors and the messes. If I’m not fixing things, Piper, what exactly am I to this family?”
She breaks. The bag slips from her hand and hits the floor. She sinks down with it, folding in on herself as sobs rip from her.
And just like that, the anger leaves me.
I drop beside her and pull her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin like I’ve done a hundred times before.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m sorry, Piper. You don’t need this tonight.”
I hold her until the sobs dissolve into hiccups.
Then I do what I’ve done since I was twelve.
I go to the kitchen.
Two mugs. Hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows.
The ritual matters. It always has.
We sit on the couch with the steam rising between us.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask gently.
She stares into her mug. “It’s just wedding stress. It’s getting on top of me. Ezra has a huge consulting contract overseas. He wants me to go with him for six months after the honeymoon.”
Something in my gut twists.
There’s a piece of this story missing. I can feel it, but I don’t press.
“How’s rehearsal going?” I ask instead. “Big concert soon, right?”
Another tear slips down her cheek.
“Piper, please don’t tell me you backed out.”
“I had to,” she says, defensive but small. “It was too much. The wedding. Ezra’s travel. The practice schedule. I couldn’t commit.”
My heart sinks.
Piper is a prodigy. I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister. She’s incredibly talented, and people were noticing.
Piper didn’t speak until she was four years old, and even then, it wasn’t exactly speaking. Mom was listening to her music when Piper opened her mouth and sang every lyric.
She’s always been quiet, but she hummed constantly. Then she picked up the violin. Most people spend years training for something she could learn by ear.
I soon realized that my little sister speaks through those four strings, and if you listen closely, she’s got plenty to say.
This solo was supposed to be her leap. The moment she stepped fully into her own name.
“You dropped the biggest opportunity of your career for a consulting trip?” I manage to say, even though I can’t hide my disbelief.
“It’s just for now,” she says, eyes fixed on the mug.
“Piper… are you sure about the wedding?” I ask quietly, covering her hand with mine. “We can postpone it. No one would judge you.”
“No,” she says too fast. “Ezra would never agree. He’s already put down deposits on everything.”
“And what do you want?”
She nods, and I’m not sure whether she’s trying to convince me or her own reflection. “I want to get married, Madi. I do.”
I don’t believe her, but I don’t say that. Instead, I pull her closer and let her rest her head on my shoulder. I take the empty mug from her hands and set it down.
“Go to sleep,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”
She falls asleep, curled against me like she used to when thunderstorms rattled the windows.
I sit there long after she’s breathing evenly, watching the city lights flicker and realizing that some things are already cracking in ways I don’t know how to fix.