Chapter Twenty
Trenton
Dad’s house was alive with that wild, familiar Maddox energy, the kind that’s inevitable when we’re all crammed under one roof. It felt like someone had shaken up a can of chaos and popped the lid. Meanwhile, Abby was on high alert, doing her best impression of a zookeeper wrangling a pair of wild monkeys hopped up on the two pounds of sugar we’d all just consumed for dessert—the family favorite: Falyn’s famous Chocolate Lava Cake and ice cream. Travis was home with a fever, so she was relying on the rest of us to help her keep the twins—two tiny demolition experts in disguise—from laying waste to every fragile family relic in the room. Across from us, Taylor and Falyn were neck-deep in negotiations with Hadley and Hollis, who were locked in an intense game of Who Can Be Louder, which did not help the already ear-splitting noise levels.
And then there was Olive, our honorary Maddox, sandwiched between Camille and me, happily in her element. To her, this kind of domestic anarchy wasn’t just welcome; it was a refreshing contrast to a household ran by older parents hovering over an only child. Tyler and his wife, Ellison, were joining the madness from Colorado, their amused expressions pixelated on Hollis’s tablet, propped up at the head of the table like they were some kind of digital VIPs.
Dad was unfazed, more like beyond thrilled , his eyes twinkling as he took in the commotion. Family gatherings were his version of pure bliss, and that afternoon was about to be even better than he could’ve imagined. Camille gave my hand a quick squeeze, her eyes darting around the room. She looked a little nervous but was trying to hide it behind a smile. I gave her a reassuring brush with my thumb and cleared my throat to get everyone’s attention.
Hey,” I called out, my voice carrying over the cacophony, and heads turned my way, curiosity written across every face. The room didn’t go silent exactly—this was a Maddox family gathering, after all, so there was still a hum of whispers and the occasional thud of a shoe on a sibling’s shin under the table—but the noise settled enough for me to feel like I could finally speak without shouting.
I held up my hand, trying to keep things light. “I know you’re all wondering why we called this family meeting. Thank you to Thomas and Liis for flying in on short notice and before Team Taylor had to head back home to Colorado, but trust me, it’s worth both the effort and the suspense.”
“Hey,” Tyler’s voice cut in from the tablet speaker. “Sorry we couldn’t make it work. If I wasn’t running this training, we’d be there.”
“Travis is sorry he couldn’t be here, too,” Abby said, trading glances with Thomas and Liis.
“We’re excited to hear whatever it is, though. He had to wait on me so we could listen together. Before Gavin, I would’ve driven here like I was racing Dale Earnhardt, Jr.,” Ellison teased.
“Well, that didn’t work out for him, so maybe slow it down, sis,” Dad said.
“She used to drive ninety everywhere she went, Dad,” Tyler said. “Gavin is the only reason she drives the speed limit now.”
“I feel like a grandma. But at least I don’t drive slow in the passing lane,” Ellison grumbled. “There is a special place in Hell for those people. Those without five-year-old passengers are trying to break the law for real. I used to be one of them.”
Dad laughed, his belly bouncing as he lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes.
“No worries,” I said. “Just glad the training finished by lunch so you could be here… ish . So, listen. For everyone’s sake, and Mom’s breakables, let’s all remain calm, m’kay? No running, no tackling, and, for the love of everything sacred, no accidental fires. This is a day for big news, not the day we break Dad’s Hummel figurines or, God forbid, one of Mom’s Waterford crystals.” I shot a look at Jessica and James, who suddenly looked suspiciously innocent.
A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Tyler and Ellison’s virtual faces leaned in closer from the tablet, eyebrows raised. Olive, always my sidekick, whispered in my ear, “If there’s a fire, I’m getting the marshmallows.”
I grinned and gave her a quick wink. “Only if you share.” I looked to my wife, gesturing for her to go next. “Honey, you do the honors.”
Camille took a breath, fidgeting. “Well, I don’t really know how this goes, so I’m just going to say it. I’ll just, uh… just going to be direct and blurt it out, okay?” She paused, looking down at her hand in mine. “Okay.” She looked up at everyone. “It’s really early, but we wanted you to know, to celebrate with you now just in case… you know… it changes.”
“No, we don’t know,” Abby said, looking utterly confused. “You’re not moving, are you?”
“You’re moving?” Dad asked, his face suddenly pale.
Olive’s expression matched his.
Thomas and Liis traded glances. No one was expecting what Camille was about to say, and that made me even more eager for her to say it. “Tell ’em, baby doll.”
“So,” Camille said, taking another breath. “We’re having a baby.”
For a beat, silence. And then the room erupted.
Cheers, shouts, laughter—like someone had just lit a firework in the middle of the table. Abby squealed and practically launched herself at Camille, pulling her into a hug, while Falyn and Ellison—who was screaming through the screen—were already talking baby names and guessing nursery colors. The kids were a little stunned, but then Jessica and James started yelling “We’re getting a cousin!” at full volume as they bounced.
My brothers were up in an instant. Taylor pulled me in with a solid hug, his face breaking into a grin as he clapped me on the back. Thomas jumped in next, nearly lifting me off the floor, pulling us into a tight, solid huddle.
“Finally, man!” Taylor said, his usual deadpan replaced by a wide grin. “You’re gonna be a dad!”
“Can’t believe it,” Thomas added, his voice choked with laughter.
Dad had already moved to Camille’s side, hugging her gently, as if she were one of Mom’s crystals. “I told you, sis. I told you! I’m thrilled for you, sweetheart. You’re gonna be incredible,” he said, his eyes soft with pride.
Camille beamed up at him, making my throat feel tight as I choked back tears.
He turned to me, placing a steady hand on my shoulder, his gaze as solid as his grip. “Son,” he began, his voice carrying that calm, steady wisdom that seemed built into his bones, “sometimes life makes you wait for the things that matter most. But you’ve been patient, you’ve stayed positive while still taking time to grieve the tough days, and you never wavered. That’s exactly what being a good father is all about. On days you doubt yourself—because, son, we all do—know that you’ve already shown all the qualities that raising a child well requires.”
My eyes burned. “Thanks, Dad.”
Olive grinned, her entire body shivering with excitement, her eyes glossing over as she spoke, “You actually are? You’re pregnant?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.
Camille nodded, and Olive hugged her, burying her face in Camille’s neck, sobbing. The room got quiet then, watching them rock back and forth.
She turned to me then, getting my shirt wet with happy tears.
I kissed her hair and then hugged her tight. “You’re still my number one girl, Ew, you know that, right?”
Olive righted herself, nodding. Suddenly serious, she sniffed once. “I get dibs on babysitting, right?”
“Absolutely!” I ruffled her hair, which earned me a playful swat on the arm.
The moment felt perfect—one of those rare times when everything clicked into place. The energy in the room shifted from our usual family bedlam to a buzzing, celebratory frenzy, filled with happy and sometimes relieved voices chattering and laughter bouncing between hugs and high fives. We must’ve missed the first round of knocking because suddenly, it echoed from the entryway like someone was swinging a battering ram, a giant demanding to be let in.
Thomas stood to answer the door, exchanged a few low words with whoever was on the other side, and then a few moments later, Kostas stepped into view, wearing an expression that could only be interpreted one way: bad news incoming. He barely had to open his mouth for me to know that our little celebration bubble was about to pop. Kostas was good at a lot of things, but lately it seemed he’d being trying to win an award for showing up with exactly the kind of news nobody wanted to hear.
He shot me a nod, one that said we needed to talk. I glanced over at Camille, who continued the conversation, knowing without a word that the rest of the family needed to be distracted from whatever Kostas had to say.
“What do you think about the name Ralph for a boy?” she asked Jessica.
“Nooo! You can’t name my cousin after the sound of vomit!” she retorted, and the excited chatter picked up again.
Trying to keep my expression calm, I followed Kostas into the hallway, catching Thomas and Liis slipping away to join us. I did a double take, momentarily surprised that they were so invested, but it was clear they’d picked up on the change in atmosphere, too. Kostas looked between us but kept his line of sight low, checking that the kids had stayed in the other room. He crossed his arms and sighed.
Fuck , this was looking grim.
“Hate to chuck this at ya now, but it couldn’t wait,” he said, glancing between me and Thomas. “It’s about Madison.”
Madison. The name alone was enough to set my jaw tight. I knew any day we’d be hearing of her release, but this seemed to be something more nefarious.
“This was meant to be good news. The psych team recommended another three months of treatment,” he said, keeping his voice low. “But we found out early this morning she walked out AMA last night. Strolled straight out the front doors with a small group. We reckon they’re the same ones who’ve been ringing the facility, asking about visitor policies and her release date.”
Thomas’s face darkened, his jaw clenching as he listened. I expected him to ask who they were, but he didn’t, so I did.
Kostas sighed. “We’re not completely sure yet, mate. But they were pretty hostile about her leaving. The facility called her parents—they’re worried about her safety—but I reckon they mean to shield her for later use. They’re not friends or family. We’re looking into it, but these people have ties that go beyond your standard harassment cases.”
My fists clenched involuntarily, anger prickling under my skin. “This doesn’t make any sense. What would they have to do with Madison?”
“Dunno quite yet, but I’m on it.”
“So,” I began, feeling like my blood was boiling under my skin. “She’s just… out? With some group of strangers?”
Kostas’s expression wasn’t reassuring. “She’s done what the court ordered. Anything else’d be voluntary, and she’s over eighteen, so yeah. Looks like she’s got more dependable resources than we thought. You and Camille need to watch yourselves. Madison’s unpredictable, and the mob she’s with? Not the blokes you want sniffing around.”
“Well, that’s just fuckin’ great,” I fumed.
“Keep your voice down,” Thomas hissed, shifting behind me.
I turned to face him, but he was still watching Kostas, his eyes narrowing. They were having a silent conversation, as if something was eating at him. I caught his gaze, but he looked away, a shadow crossing his face.
“Tommy, what gives?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m just irritated. We were just celebrating news we’ve all been waiting for for years, and crazy just got crazier.”
I knew my brother. That wasn’t it, not even close. Whatever he was really thinking, he wasn’t ready to share it.
I looked back at Kostas. “What do we do now? Just wait for her to show up again?”
Kostas shook his head. “Joe and his team are keeping a close eye on this. I’ll make sure you lot are kept in the loop. She’s slipped off the radar for now, but his best digital trackers are on it. She won’t stay hidden for long. Just… keep your wits about ya.”
“Understood.” My instincts were firing up. I felt ready to go to war if needed. Madison’s games had gone on long enough, and now that Camille and I had a baby on the way, my tolerance was non-existent.
Thomas’s jaw relaxed slightly, and he met my eyes with a steady, confident nod. “We’ll be ready, Trent. Whatever it takes.” He gave my shoulder a firm squeeze, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not alone in this. Understand that.”
Kostas glanced at Thomas and Liis, and then back at me, a moment of sympathy breaking through his usual tough exterior. “Again, sorry to bring this up now. I know today’s meant to be a happy one, but I figured you’d wanna be ready.”
“Yeah, thanks, Kostas,” I replied, meaning it. I paused. “How did you know it was a happy day?”
He smiled and winked at me before pulling open the door.
I turned to Thomas, pointing to where Kostas just stood. “He’s creepy.” I pointed at my brother, adding, “And there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Thomas and Liis breathed out matching laughs, and Thomas placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’re on high alert, little brother. He’s just making sure you’re okay, and I think Liis will agree with me that we should stick around for a while.”
“What? You’re going to stay in town?”
Thomas peeked at Liis and then back at me, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah. It’s all hands on deck.”
My brows furrowed, surprised and confused by his answer. I cast a glance back toward the living room where Camille was still laughing with Dad and the others, oblivious to the storm on the horizon. Just the sight of her, surrounded by family, filled me with a renewed determination. Whatever Madison and her new fan club thought they were bringing our way, she was in for a rude fucking awakening.
When we returned to the dining table, Camille’s gaze flicked up, her smile fading as she noticed my expression. “Everything all right?” she asked, slowly stopping her playful game with Jessica.
I forced a smile, pulling her close. “Yeah, all good. Just Kostas dropping by on his way home from Travis and Abby’s. He checked on Trav. He’s snoring.”
She tilted her head, clearly suspicious, but thankfully, Jessica and James chose that moment to barrel over and tug at my arm. “Uncle Trent! Will the baby be here by summer break so we can teach her to swim?” Jessica asked, bouncing with excitement.
“Or him,” James said.
“Not for a while, sweetheart,” I said. “Definitely by Christmas. You’ve got plenty of time to practice changing diapers,” I teased.
“Ew! No way!” she said, cringing.
Camille’s hand slipped into mine. I looked down at her, and in that brief second, the noise around us faded to nothing. Whatever darkness lay ahead, I knew we’d hold our ground.
When we said our goodbyes and successfully retreated to the quiet comfort of our home, I thought Camille would feel more at-ease. And she did long enough to kick off her shoes and curl up under her favorite thickly knitted throw on the couch. Once she’d sat quietly in her element long enough, she looked at me with a mix of curiosity and mild panic that only comes when you find out someone you thought was being babysat had broken out of the playpen. Except, in this case, the playpen was a high-security psychiatric facility, and the escapee was Madison—a loose cannon wrapped in sorority sister-level theatrics and dipped twice in dubious, potentially criminal life choices.
“Did Kostas say anything else?” she asked, worry sneaking into her voice.
“Nope, just that she left with a group of people, but Kostas’s private investigator has his people all over it,” I said, plopping down beside her. “Apparently, no one knows who this new entourage is. Could be old friends, could be she’s joined a cult. Not exactly a lot of clarity there.”
Camille’s eyes narrowed. “A P.I.? How are we paying for that? We have to save every penny. You heard what Wes said last night. We have a mile-long list of things to buy.”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to buy original paintings and designer rocking chairs, love. It only has to be as expensive as we make it. And Kostas didn’t mention money, which means the guy owes him a favor. I mean, Kostas seems like the kind of guy who has a few IOUs tucked away, right? I’ll owe him the rest of my life for all his help on this.”
She relaxed a little, though I could see the wheels still turning. “Who would want to break her out?” she mused, folding her arms. “Think about it. Her own parents put her in there.”
I shook my head. “I wish I knew, baby doll. That’s exactly what the P.I. is working on.”
“Have we checked social media? What if she’s been working on a following? People love a lost cause. What if there’s this online army of sympathetic supporters out there who think Madison is some kind of misunderstood martyr? What if she hasn’t joined a cult? What if she’s started one?”
She had a point. We were living in strange days. Give the masses a sob story with some flair, and suddenly there’s a fanbase. “That’s a terrifying idea. I’ll pass it on to Kostas, get his people snooping around the Internet. Historically, a bunch of misguided college kids can become a real problem.”
A hint of relief softened her face, and I felt a surge of gratitude. Anyone who added stress for my wife over the next nine months was now public enemy number one. I watched her for a moment, feeling the urge to steer the conversation toward something that wouldn’t have her brows furrowed like she was piecing together a crime scene. “Speaking of little people who require supervision, let’s talk baby names.”
Her face lit up. “Okay, hit me,” she said, turning toward me and resting her head on my shoulder.
“All right. For a girl, how about… Esmerelda? Very Victorian circus performer vibe, right?”
She scrunched her nose. “That sounds like what you’d name a cat living behind a dumpster.”
I nodded, dead serious. “Exactly. Perfect for a kid who’ll throw epic tantrums. Now for a boy: Bartholomew.”
“Trent,” she said, pulling back to stare at me like I’d lost my mind. “Bartholomew? Really? That kid would be in therapy by kindergarten.”
“Fine, fine. What about something classic but unusual, like… Tallulah?” I suggested, trying to hold a straight face.
She laughed, rolling her eyes as she smacked my arm, the sound bright and warm. “Tallulah? Seriously? What about us screams let’s name our kid after a jazz singer with a feather boa and a tragic backstory ?”
Her eyes sparkled as she shook her head, still grinning, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Come on,” I said, pretending to beg. “ Tallulah could be sophisticated! She could rock a top hat and an old-fashioned martini glass by the time she’s three.”
Camille shook her head, still laughing, her cheeks flushed. “No way. Our kid would be the one to spill cold-pressed organic kale and ginger juice on her onesie from her miniature recycled glass jar. Then use her spaghetti noodles as a crown. Tallulah would be mortified.”
I laughed, but then my face twisted in mock disgust. “Look, we are not hipsters who serve our toddler drinks with bamboo straws.”
Camille smirked, leaning in. “Oh, and bonus points if the cup is labeled something minimalist and pretentious like ‘Raw Earth Elixir’—packed with spirulina, locally sourced, of course.”
“Stop,” I groaned, only half annoyed, but I couldn’t stop smiling. “We’re not that bad.”
She raised an eyebrow, giving me a playful nudge. “No, we’re not. Yet. But who knows? First-time parenting has a way of making even normal people go a little cuckoo. Just imagine us at three a.m. discussing organic diaper fabric or debating baby yoga classes.”
I winced, chuckling. “Okay, if I start saying shit like mindfulness , please slap me.”
Watching her with a look of pure amusement on her face, I allowed myself a short second of pride that my distraction attempt had succeeded, melting away all her earlier worries. It was a moment I wanted to keep, to tuck away somewhere safe, a reminder of why we were here, planning for the future, silly baby names and all.
We tossed names back and forth, everything from favorite book characters like Luna and Jasper to absurdities like Gertrude and Herbert. Somewhere between Ludwig and Petunia, Camille peeled off the throw, leaving it in a heap beside her as laughter smoothed away the last traces of tension in her face. She didn’t need the comfort of it anymore; the names, the banter—it was all the security she needed. I stood up, figuring that if we were going to keep our ridiculous game going, a warm cup of tea might just be the perfect touch to help her completely unwind. She looked a bit worn out from the whirlwind of family lunch and the big announcement. She needed to feel looked after and protected, to know I was there to catch her on even the happy days that felt a little too much—and the smallest gestures meant the most to her. If just noticing and making her some savory warm goodness could do the trick, I’d do it every time.
When I returned with her mug, she wrapped her hands around it, inhaling the steam. I slid onto the couch beside her, pulling her closer until her head rested against my shoulder again. “Movie?” I suggested.
She nodded. “ Spaceballs ?”
“You know it.” I flashed her a grin, lifting the remote with all the gravitas of a guy about to start a national anthem. I pressed the button, leaning back onto the couch, feeling the warmth of her shoulder under mine. The music of the opening credits kicked in, that goofy, glorious fanfare that made Spaceballs a Maddox family favorite.
Camille settled in closer, and for a second, all the chaos of the day melted away. There we were: a guy, his girl, and a truly questionable movie choice, exactly as it should be.
She nestled in, tucking her feet up under the throw and releasing a contented sigh. I pulled her closer as the absurdly dramatic opening crawl rolled up the screen. For a moment, we were kids again. It was just the two of us, the glow of the TV, and the ridiculous antics on screen—a little slice of normal.
She tilted her head up, catching my eye with a smile. “Thanks for this,” she whispered.
I gave her a squeeze, my thumb tracing gentle circles along her shoulder, and nodded.
“You said you upgraded the security system, right?” she asked. I could tell by her tone she didn’t want to interrupt our little peace inside the eye of the hurricane by asking.
“In all honesty, I’ve been downplaying it,” I said, watching her carefully as I ticked off each item in my head, knowing this would put her at ease. “I set up high-resolution cameras—four outside, one at each corner of the house, all with infrared for night vision. They’re hooked to motion detection, so they’ll automatically track any movement within fifty feet and send an alert straight to my phone. Plus, they record to cloud storage, so even if something happens to the equipment, we’ve got the footage.”
She nodded, her eyes showing a glimmer of relief, so I continued. “I swapped out the standard locks for Grade 1 deadbolts. Reinforced strike plates, too, in case someone thinks they can just kick their way in. Added double-cylinder locks on all the main doors, and all windows have new pin locks. And then there’s the new motion sensors—strategically placed. One in the entryway, another at the back door, and one near the garage. If anything moves where it shouldn’t, the system kicks in.”
I could see her starting to relax, but I wasn’t done. “And let’s not forget the floodlights. Those babies are on a 360-degree sensor, so anything bigger than a leaf? Whole yard lights up like the Fourth of July. I even put pressure sensors along the driveway and garden paths—they’ll alert us if someone’s creeping up.”
Camille’s fingers tapped lightly on my arm, her tension slowly easing. “And everything’s connected to your phone?”
“Yep, all of it. I upgraded to a military-grade app that handles remote monitoring. I get instant alerts, plus I can control everything from here. Added biometric access to our security panel, so only you, me, and the people we trust can disarm the system. And just in case, I’ve set it to automatically alert Travis and Abby if anything suspicious happens, so we’ve got back up close by. I’ll add Thomas and Liis, too, since they’re here.”
She looked up at me. “It makes sense now why you’ve been so busy in the evenings. You thought of everything.”
“Damn right I did. My baby’s having a baby,” I said, wrapping my arm around her. “We’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox.” And as the words sank in, I could see the final traces of worry slip away from her face. “If a squirrel so much as sneezes in our yard, we’ll know about it.”
“I knew you’d take care of it. I just needed to hear you say it.”
That was all I needed. I wrapped my arm around her a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She leaned into me, her hand resting over my heart, fingers spread, feeling my heartbeat beneath. The troubles, the unanswered questions—all of it slipped into the background, leaving just this moment, the quiet reassurance of her beside me, knowing she trusted me to keep her safe.
Halfway through the movie, I caught her stifling a yawn, her eyes starting to drift shut. I nudged her gently. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. I’ve got one last baby name suggestion.”
“Oh no,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Okay, hear me out. For a girl: Bathsheba. Imagine roll call at school. ‘Bathsheba, present!’”
She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Poor child would never forgive us.”
“And for a boy…” I paused dramatically, making her lift her head, waiting. “Craggy. Craggybones McGinty Maddox.”
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “You woke me up for that? He’s not a pirate.”
I shrugged, unable to keep a straight face. “Our son will definitely be a pirate.”
A sleepy laugh escaped, and a sense of ease filled the room, softening the rough edges left by the day. Once our laughter faded, a calm took over, and I felt the same exhaustion that had crept up on my wife. The worries—Madison, the mystery cult, the stream of absurd baby names—slipped to the back of my mind, fading like faint static on a far-off radio.