17. Madeleine
MADELEINE
Campfire Night
Storm Front Coming
Supper: Meatball Subs · Homemade Potato Chips
Aknock on my cabin door came just as I’d gotten dressed and braided my freshly washed hair. I didn’t have it in me to blow it out or fuss with it like I normally did. I hurried to the door, hoping and scared that it was Knox in equal measure. It was Ivy, and she didn’t look happy.
“Come on in,” I said, backing up.
“How’s your headache?”
I’d almost forgotten that lie. “Um, much better.” I sat on the edge of my bed but Ivy remained standing.
“First migraine ever, huh?” Ivy crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine, I didn’t have one.”
“Why are you hiding in here?” Ivy asked.
“I’m not hiding.”
She didn’t say anything, just glared at me.
“All right, yes, I’m giving myself some space,” I said. “Some time alone.”
“Do you think I just fell off the turnip truck? I can see plain as day what’s going on here.
I’ve known it since the first time I saw you two together.
No one fights like that unless there’s passion between them.
You’ve been running from this for a long time, and I think it’s enough.
You need to put your big girl panties on and take care of what needs doing. ”
“Which is what exactly?” I crossed my arms over my chest, mirroring her.
“Admit to yourself that you’re in love with Knox Hartley and it’s time for you to put aside all these excuses and actually be happy. What is it? Do you think you don’t deserve love? Is that it? You’re punishing yourself?”
“No.” I glared right back at her.
“Then what?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try. I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t know how to do this. I’m freaking out and making a mess of it all but I’m … scared.”
“Oh, honey. That’s sad.”
“Don’t look at me like I’m a charity case,” I said. “I can’t stand pity.”
“That’s the whole problem, right there,” Ivy said.
“This isn’t pity. Pity is looking down at someone and, girl, I’m looking right at you.
You’re so focused on making sure you’re immune to pity that you push people away.
But you know what? I know who you are under all this.
” She waved her hand toward me. “Just like you know me. We’ve been friends since we were kids, basically.
I remember you before you were the great Madeleine Price.
I remember the young person who wanted so desperately to make a life for herself that she felt she had to reinvent who she was.
But you’re still the same person. Older, perhaps wiser, although that’s debatable at the moment.
Successful. Gorgeous. You’re still the same sweet girl you were when you called yourself Mindy.
You’re still you, even if you have a fancier car.
And that’s the person we all love. The one you try so hard to hide.
But we see her. And we love her. You don’t have to hold on so tight. ”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make it untrue.”
I didn’t respond. What was there to say, really?
Ivy crossed the room and hugged me. “You’re going to figure this out once and for all. I believe in you. And now I’m going to leave you here to think.”
And then she was gone, my little blonde tornado, leaving me to face Mindy Sue alone.
I sat for a moment after Ivy left, thinking about what she’d said.
She was my best friend, and I loved her to death, but there was a part of me that she could never understand.
Ivy had never warred with herself. She’d never had to kill a part of herself in order to find the life she’d dreamt of.
But she’d had support. Her family had been a backbone for her, the place she could go home to and feel safe, no matter what happened in the outside world.
But I was different. I was the one who had to look after my family.
I’d known even as a kid that it was up to me to make a better life for myself and my family.
I did whatever it took to get into college, then worked two jobs to pay for expenses that weren’t covered in my scholarship and financial aid.
During that time, when I’d systematically dismantled the parts of myself that would not support my mission, it had never occurred to me that soft, vulnerable Mindy Sue had served a purpose. She’d let me love myself and others.
Since I’d started out on my own, I’d not looked back.
I hardly ever thought about my childhood.
I’d erased most of it, including the dingy, rundown house my mother had worked herself into the ground to keep.
Once I’d made it, I’d moved her to a new house, one with a pool and a garden.
Now, I paid for all her monthly expenses and the mortgage on the house too, never begrudgingly either.
I loved being the one who could save my mom, who could spoil her with whatever she wanted.
Which, as it turned out, was extremely modest. Still, even when she could afford it, she never bought herself a new dress.
She still dyed her own hair instead of going to the salon.
My sister, too, seemed ever cognizant of what she owed me for putting her through school.
Which is how I started to distrust the word owe.
What did it really mean to owe someone? Did it mean you could never really love them as an equal because they saw the relationship as transactional?
I’d never stopped long enough to ask myself these questions.
I’d just pushed and plodded, always with a strategic goal in mind. Never go back to living in poverty.
People who had grown up without the constant worry about money—not just vacation money or frivolous spending—never got it.
I’m talking about looking for coins in the seat of the couch.
Running your car down to empty because payday was two days away and you had no money for gas.
Looking at price tags, wondering how it was possible to feed two girls and still keep the lights on.
This had been my mother’s way of life since she’d come into the world.
She’d figured she’d go out that way too.
But not me. I saw the problem and decided nothing would stop me until I fixed it.
A professor my first year of college had presented the idea during a lecture that high achievers often came from humble beginnings or even a tragedy that had helped form the people they later became.
I’d sat in that lecture hall, goosebumps prickling my arms, thinking, “Yes, this is me. Anything is possible. I just have to know what I want.” After that, no one could have dissuaded or shaken me from my path.
Not even Mindy Sue. Which is why she had to go.
But sitting here in the empty cabin, the faint scent of Ivy’s perfume mingling with fresh coffee, doubt crept in. Had I given up too much for success?
Could I ever have love if I continued on as I was? Being here, spending time with Knox, I knew something had to change. I just didn’t know how to do it. How could I trust myself to soften enough to love and be loved without losing everything I’d fought so hard to find?
But I’d trusted myself at eighteen years old when I’d decided to conquer the world.
Why not trust myself at thirty-six to let Knox love me?
To let myself love him. And suddenly, asking myself these questions, I knew one thing for sure.
I was acting like an idiot. Pushing away the man, who down deep I’d loved for a long time, was ludicrous.
My phone buzzed from the dresser. It was a reminder to take my vitamin, but I also noticed an unopened text from Knox. From last night, asking if I was all right. I hadn’t responded. In my defense, I hadn’t seen it, but still. I’d probably hurt him with my silence. I had to do better.
“All right, Mindy Sue,” I muttered under my breath. “Put your boots on and go get him.”
He opened the door to his cabin dressed in a flannel shirt half-buttoned, hair sticking up, coffee in one hand. Lord, he looked good like that. So good I wanted to put both hands on his chest and push him onto the bed.
“Morning,” he said in that slow drawl that made my heart flutter. “You good?”
“I saw your text. This morning. I fell asleep early last night. Thanks for checking on me.”
“No problem.”
“I wanted to say I was sorry too. About kind of disappearing.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not really,” I said.
“Come inside. It’s frigid. And your hair looks wet.”
“Yes, thanks.”
He backed up so I could walk through the door into his warm cabin. There was a fire going in the hearth. His bed had already been made.
He must have seen me notice because he smiled. “I always make my bed first thing in the morning.”
“Another rule?”
“Nah. Just helps me keep my head tidy.” He took my hand. “Come sit. Let me pour you some coffee. I have scones in the fridge too. I can warm them up for us.”
I nodded, not really interested in coffee or scones, but sat in one of the chairs. He poured me a cup of coffee, put two scones in the microwave, then joined me.
“How’s the head?” Knox asked, handing me the mug.
“Better.”
“I didn’t realize you got migraines.”
“Not often.” I looked down at the cup in my hands. “I didn’t have one. I just made it up. Because I needed a little space, I guess. I’m sorry.”
“I thought maybe that was the case. I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide from me. I pushed too hard.”
“Nothing that happened is your fault,” I said. “It’s me. I just don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?” Knox asked gently.
“Let myself have this. Let myself have you. I don’t remember how to be that kind to myself, if I ever knew in the first place. You don’t need anything from me. I don’t have anything to give you—to make sure you love me—because you already have it all.”
“I don’t need you,” he said, gruffly. “But I want you. There’s a big difference.
I don’t have everything either, by the way.
I don’t have you. It took Montana and slowing down to see that you’re my missing piece.
That said, I don’t know how to reach you.
I see glimpses and then you shutter everything back up again. ”
“I want to try, Knox,” I whispered. “I want you too.”
He smiled. “Too bad I made the bed already.”
I laughed. “Yes, that is unfortunate.”
The microwave beeped to remind us the scones were warm. However, neither of seemed to care about scones at that particular moment.
He set aside his coffee and took mine from me, then got up and offered me his hand. “Would you like me to pull back the sheets?”
I hesitated for only a second. Let him in, Mindy Sue whispered in my ear. “Yes.”
He led me over to the bed, and we perched on the edge, turned slightly toward each other.
“I’ve never seen your hair like this.” Knox lifted the end of my braid, tickling my neck with it. “Makes you look about sixteen years old.”
“Doubtful, but thank you. I did it too tightly. It’s starting to make my head ache. For real this time.”
Smiling, he held my gaze for another second, then slid the elastic from the end of the braid.
“Braids can come undone, just like beds can be unmade.” He slipped the ponytail holder free and slowly worked his way up the braid, loosening each woven section.
His fingers brushed the nape of my neck before traveling higher, gently unweaving the hair fitted close against my head.
When the last section came free at my crown, my hair spilled in rippled waves over his hands and down my back.
“A man could get addicted to the feel of your hair in his hands.”
His gaze moved over my face, lingering at my mouth before returning to my eyes. He lifted one hand and swept my hair back from my cheek. His thumb traced the edge of my cheekbone. “I forget everything else when I’m with you.”
I touched the scar near his temple, following its path with one finger. He closed his eyes for half a second, drawing in an unsteady breath. When he opened them, they glittered with unmistakable desire. “Do you want to help me mess up this bed?”
I curled my hand around the back of his neck. “More than anything.”
His mouth found mine with all the heat he’d been holding back, and I met him there, letting the force of it tip me toward him. His hand slid into my loosened hair, cradling the back of my head as the kiss deepened.
The edge of the mattress pressed against the backs of my knees. Knox drew away just far enough to look at me. “You sure?”
I nodded, but he waited.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His expression softened. He kissed me again, slower this time, until the urgency gave way to something more dangerous. Something torturously patient. His lips moved along my cheek and paused beneath my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
I held on to his shoulders, feeling the tension beneath his shirt.
This time his smile came slowly, intimate and a little wicked. Then he reached behind me, pulled back the covers, and the last of the distance between us disappeared.