Chapter 28 #2
The kitchen is empty, just a single mug on the counter next to the coffee pot, half full. Thomas reaches for a second mug from the cabinet and pours without asking. He slides it toward me before grabbing his own cup and leaning back against the counter.
I mirror his positions, letting the warmth from my mug seep into my fingers.
Silence settles between us, and I let Thomas study me over the rim of his mug. He takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine, and I get the sense he’s deciding something. How much to say. How much to trust the man standing in his kitchen.
I wait, taking a page out of Aiden’s playbook. Years of green rooms and sound checks have taught me how to wait.
“Aiden called this morning.” Thomas sets his mug down on the counter, his thumb tracing the rim. “Him and Wyatt both. Early. Before I really got out of bed.”
I’m not sure I’m surprised by the words. I’m still getting to know Aiden and Wyatt, but everything I’ve seen of them tells me that’s exactly the kind of brothers they are. No one hurts their little sister—not even their parents.
Thomas pauses, and I see him choosing his words. Not the way you choose words when you don’t know what to say, but the way you choose them when you know exactly what to say and you’re trying to make it land right.
“I love my daughter, Beckett. I need you to know that.” His voice is quiet by firm, the kind that comes from somewhere deeper than volume.
“I’ve loved her since the day we found out about her.
I loved her when she was a little girl who used to sit on my lap and tell me about her day.
I loved her when she came home from college and told me she wanted to rebuild that house.
I loved her when she broke up with Mark and I didn’t know what to say.
I have loved that girl every single day of her life. ”
He stops, takes a breath, and lets it out slowly.
“But last night, I sat at that table and I didn’t say a word.
Ruby got up and left, and I just sat there.
I can make all the excuses in the world.
I was caught off guard. I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t want to say the wrong thing…every single one of those excuses is true and every single one of them is worthless because my daughter was sitting at that table with tears in her eyes, and I didn’t open my mouth. ”
His jaw works as he picks up the mug, taking a sip and setting it back down again. I don’t think he needs to drink, just something to do with his hands.
“Ruby’s not a bad mother.” The words come out strong, almost defensive, and I understand why.
She’s his wife, he loves her. “She’s not.
In forty-one years of marriage, I’ve watched that woman love our kids in ways that would put most people to shame.
She was at every game, every recital, every doctor’s appointment.
She made birthday cakes from scratch and kissed every scraped knee.
She kept this family together in ways I sometimes think she doesn’t get credit for. ”
He pauses, his jaw working like he’s chewing on something he doesn’t want to swallow.
“But this is how she’s always been. When something doesn’t fit the picture she has in her head, she can’t sit with it.
She has to go somewhere else until she can figure out how to make it fit.
I know that’s not an excuse. I know that,” he repeats.
“It’s just how she’s been for as long as I’ve known her. ”
I nod slowly. I believe him. I’ve only been in Stonebridge Hollow for a short time, but I’ve seen enough of the Hawthorne family to know they love each other.
I’ve heard Madison talk about her parents.
Seen the way Thomas looks at his kids. I’ve watched Aiden and Wyatt circle around Madison like she’s one of the most important people to them.
This family loves each other, it’s impossible to miss.
But last night, sitting at that table, love was the furthest thing from that room.
The silence was so thick I could feel it pressing against my chest. Last night, their daughter dried her tears, cleared the table, and went home like nothing happened because that’s what she learned to do a long time ago.
I know they love her. I’ve seen it. I’ve heard it. But their actions last night don’t match it, and I don’t know how to say that to a man standing in his kitchen telling me he loves his daughter while his eyes are red at the edges.
“I know you love her,” I start. “I’ve seen it. I’ve heard her talk about this family. She doesn’t talk about any of you the way someone talks about parents who don’t care. She talks about you like you are people she always thought would be there.”
Thomas’s expression shifts. Something held tight loosens just slightly, like a fist unclenching a fraction.
“But last night…” I continue, keeping my voice steady because I’m not the kind of person to kick a man while he’s down.
“Last night, she told you something scary. Something that took everything she had to say out loud, and the two people in this world who were supposed to tell her everything was going to be okay didn’t say a word. ”
Thomas doesn’t look away. He takes it, standing there with both hands on the counter, he takes it. And my respect for him grows.
“I know,” he says, his voice rough. “I’ve been sitting here since I got off the phone with Aiden going over it in my head.”
The house is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and two men standing in a kitchen trying to figure out how to talk about something neither of them have words for.
“Aiden said the same thing,” Thomas says after a moment. “Not those words, but the same thing. That Madison didn’t need anything more than to hear that we love her.”
He picks up the mug again, looks into it like the coffee might have an answer.
“I called her this morning,” he says. “Madison. She didn’t pick up.”
That lands somewhere in my chest. I think about Madison this morning, her phone ringing, her father’s name on the screen, and her not picking up. Not because she doesn’t love him or because she’s angry, but because she’s hurt and needs a little more time.
“She will,” I say. “She’ll pick up. When she’s ready.”
Thomas looks at me, something in it searching, wanting to believe me but not sure. “You think so?”
“Madison loves you both more than I think you realize. Right now she’s hurt, and she needs you and Ruby to prove that love isn’t misplaced.”
Thomas nods slowly, the same measured nod I’ve seen Aiden give.
The same way Wyatt looked last night when Madison said she was going to clean up.
This family has a tell. When they hear something they don’t want to accept but know is true, they nod—slow and deliberate, like they’re filing it away for later.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and my daughter, Beckett.
” He holds a hand up, stopping me before I can interrupt.
“That’s her business, and I’ll respect it.
But I saw you last night. You didn’t say anything or offer her platitudes.
You supported her and offered her a shoulder to lean on. ”
“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” I say. “I was just there.”
“Exactly. That’s what she needed, someone who was there.
” Thomas straightens. He looks older than he did last night, or maybe I wasn’t looking closely enough.
There’s gray at his temples I hadn’t noticed and lines around his eyes that deepen when he’s tired.
He looks like a man who’s been sitting in the kitchen since before dawn going over every second of a dinner he can’t redo.
“Thanks for coming by,” he says. “You didn’t have to, but you did.
” He picks up his mug, rinses it in the sink, and sets it on the counter.
Simple automatic motions, the kind of thing a man does when his body knows the routine even when his mind is somewhere else.
“That tells me a lot about the man you are. About what my daughter means to you.”
I don’t respond, still not sure what to label us.
Thomas walks me to the door, and when we step outside, the cold hits again, the same sharp January air from last night, but it’s cleaner now. Brighter. The sun is higher, casting long shadows on the porch.
“We’ll see you Sunday for dinner?” Thomas asks, his eyes hopeful.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Maybe I’ll see you sooner. Around the cottage?” I suggest, hoping he’ll take the hint.
He nods, almost absentmindedly before giving my shoulder a quick squeeze.
I stand on the porch for a moment after Thomas returns inside—the coffee warm in my stomach and something warm in my chest.