Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
IZZY
IZZY: Are you sure you’re OK to pick Mad up from school?
HOOPER: I said I would, didn’t I?
IZZY: Let your mom and dad know if you can’t, so they know to go!
HOOPER: I got this!
FLIC: How are you holding up?
IZZY: The same as when you asked me yesterday and the day before that.
IZZY: I’m OK, I promise!
FLIC: You wanna hang out at the bar while I clean the beer pumps?
IZZY: Tempting as that is, I can’t. I’m on a tour of the new school my parents want to send Madison to.
FLIC: What’s it like?
IZZY: Impressive.
FLIC: Is it right for Mad?
FLIC: You know I’ve got your back no matter what. But I need to say this before you fuck up your life completely… Making decisions your parents (or anyone else for that matter) don’t agree with doesn’t mean they’re mistakes! It means they’re the right choices for you.
The school grounds are immaculate. Neatly trimmed grass and pruned flower beds—not a weed in sight.
The buildings are three stories high and grand, like they’ve stood for a hundred years, except they also look brand new.
As we approach a courtyard, a class of children moves in a quiet, orderly line, their ironed blue uniforms pristine under the late afternoon sun.
Their teacher smiles politely at our tour group of prospective parents as they pass.
From beside me, Mom shoots me another of her See?
See how perfect this life will be for Madison?
looks. I barely contain my eye roll. She’s already annoyed I’m wearing my black sundress instead of the blouse and skirt of hers she’d laid on the bed for me.
I hide a smile as I think of her face if I’d worn the denim cutoffs that drive Dylan wild.
Drove, I correct with a slice of pain that comes from nowhere, ambushing me just as it has done countless times since I left Oakwood Ranch two weeks ago.
As we round a corner toward the tennis courts, Mom shoots a pointed look at my phone as Flic’s final message arrives.
I read it fast before shoving my phone into my bag and swallowing down the lump of anxiety that’s been lodged in my throat since I arrived at my parents’ house in the middle of the night after the call from Coach Allen. After my world fell apart.
For days afterward, I stared at my phone, willing Dylan to call and tell me he’d chosen the ranch. Beg me to come back. Tell me he was falling for me like I was him. The silence has stung almost as much as the knowledge that he knew about the coaching offer and didn’t tell me.
I think of Flic’s final message, wishing it was that easy. The right choice for me? Or for Mad? And are they one and the same? Because this school really is amazing. Routine. Stability. Exactly what Madison needs. I just wish it didn’t feel like I was struggling to breathe.
I try not to think about how hard the weekends have been for Madison. Her sadness when Grandpa Joe dropped her at my parents’ house instead of the ranch. The way she asked a hundred questions about Oakwood, about the horses, about Dylan—questions I couldn’t answer.
But why can’t we stay there?
Why can’t we go back?
What about Quicksilver?
When can we see Dylan?
I’d forced out words that felt all wrong. I know it’s hard, Mad. One day you’ll understand. Here, we can have a routine. A normal life. I hated how much I sounded like my mom.
We spent last week playing in the park, helping cook dinner, and coloring in Mad’s room while I flicked through the stack of college courses Mom had left so helpfully on my old desk.
I smiled for Mad, read her stories at bedtime, told her I loved her, and tried to ignore the suffocating feeling of being back in my parents’ house.
I hoped school starting and seeing her friends would help, but she’s still quiet.
Nothing like her usual bubbly self. I thought I was doing the right thing by agreeing to live with my parents, but now I’m not so sure.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m still failing her.
It’s one of the reasons I agreed to this school tour.
And for Hooper to collect Mad from school today.
Maybe some time with her dad will lift her spirits.
We round the corner and another class of children passes us.
They’re about Madison’s age, each clasping a basketball in their hands.
A ball slips and the little girl who dropped it starts to run, chasing it down, but the teacher is quick to stop her, reminding her to walk, not run.
The girl nods solemnly before continuing after her ball, slower now.
I try to remember a single moment in Madison’s life when she hasn’t skipped, jumped, or sprinted her way through the day.
I try to picture her in this place—standing in a neat line, silent and composed.
But the Mad who fills my thoughts is the one in the lake, her high-pitched squeal of delight when Dylan threw her into the air. Wild and free. Happy.
I think of the way her face lights up around the horses, the same way mine does, and a tightness grips my chest. Even before Hooper, trust never came easy to me.
I grew up feeling like the odd one out, like the decisions I wanted to make for my life were wrong.
It made me doubt myself, not trust my own feelings.
Like the feelings now telling me this school and this life aren’t right for Mad or me.
Flic’s right. I have to start trusting my instincts, and right now those instincts are screaming at me to get the hell out of here.
Madison doesn’t belong in a world of strictness and structure and being told not to run.
She doesn’t belong in a world closed in, away from the land she loves. And neither do I.
My feet slow, the tour group moving on without me. Mom stops too, nudging me forward. I take another step but then stop completely.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly. “But this place isn’t for Mad.”
Sadness flickers across Mom’s face. I feel bad for a moment. Then she purses her lips. “Madison will benefit immensely from a place like this. Your father and I—”
“I know,” I cut in. “And I’m grateful for the offer, really I am. But you and Dad think if you can squeeze Madison’s bubbly, curious, fun personality into the box this place is offering, she’ll magically become the kind of person who grows up to be a doctor.”
Mom shakes her head. “That’s not what this is, Isobel.”
“It is,” I reply. “And I know that because it’s exactly what you did to me as a child.
But I never fit and neither will Mad. This life you’re offering us…
I know it’s coming from a place of love.
But I can’t keep pretending I belong in a world that makes me feel like I’m failing just for being myself.
It isn’t for me. And it sure as hell isn’t for Mad. ”
Mom sighs, resignation in her expression.
“I told your father this would happen.” She must see the surprise on my face because she raises her brows.
“We may not be perfect parents for you, Isobel, but we’ve always wanted what’s best. We want you to have something stable. And we love you. And we love Madison.”
I reach out, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know. Thank you.”
The disappointment still lingers in the air. Maybe one day they’ll accept my choices, but I’m not sure they’ll ever be proud. And that stings. But it only makes me more certain that this isn’t the life for Madison. I will always support her choices, always be proud.
“You don’t have to move out,” Mom says then. “Whatever you choose to do, you and Mad can always stay with us.”
“Thank you,” I say, grateful she doesn’t try to stop me.
“What will you do?” she asks.
Oakwood Ranch flashes into my mind—sunlight spilling through the barn doors, Quicksilver’s whinny, the sound of hooves hitting the dirt.
The foothills rising from the land. The lush green of the spruce trees by the lake.
The dewy scent of the air first thing in the morning, like it’s rolled straight off the mountains.
I shake the image away. “I… I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out. ”
I turn and walk away, cutting across the lawn, grinning at the sign that tells me not to. I feel the wind in my hair, the giddy relief of making a choice that feels right.
HOOPER: Dropped Mad at the ranch. I’ll let you know the next time I’m in town.
I’m in the parking lot of the school when Hooper’s message lands. His words suck the air from the day. What the hell does he mean he dropped Madison at the ranch? He was supposed to take her to my parents’.
“Hooper,” I say as he answers with a drawling hello. “Where’s Madison?”
There’s a pause and I swear I can hear the lazy smile stretching across his lips. “Didn’t you see my message? I dropped her at your boyfriend’s ranch.”
I ignore the dig. I will not be dragged into a fight right now. “You were supposed to drop her off at my parents’. We’re—”
“Yeah, I know, but Mad told me it would be fine to leave her at the ranch. She said you were meeting her there.”
“And you believed an eight-year-old girl without checking with me?” My voice rises as the first streaks of panic pound through me. Why has Madison gone to Oakwood Ranch? She knows I’m not there.
“Was Dylan there?” I ask.
“I didn’t see him.”
“Mama?”
“Who?”
“Did you see anyone?” I ask.
“Er… no, but I was in a rush to catch my flight. Mad seemed fine when she got out.”
My heart pounds a rapid drum in my chest. My hands start to shake. I think of how sad Madison was this weekend. How many times she asked about the horses.
“Hooper.” His name comes out in a rush. “Turn around right now and get Madison. I’m not at the ranch.”
“What? Where are you?”
“I’m in the city. You have to go get her.”
“I can’t.” His tone turns whiny, bringing with it memories of our marriage. All the times I begged him to stay home with me when Madison was a screaming newborn and I was so tired, strung out, and scared. “I’m already at the airport and through security,” he says.
“What? How long ago did you drop her at the ranch?”
“About an hour or so.”
The scream rises up, barely contained. The next words I speak are fierce. “You abandon our daughter without bothering to check if there’s anyone to take care of her, and you don’t think to tell me for an hour? You’re a selfish prick, Hooper.”
I end the call. My heart continues to pound as reality sets in. This is all my fault. I shove away the anxiety and the guilt threatening to consume me. Neither will help me now. I’m on the east side of the city. Oakwood Ranch is west. I’m on the wrong side, and it’s the start of rush hour.
I’m hours away.
Madison needs me. She needs help. I need help.
I tap my phone screen, and as the ringing fills my ears, the truth hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. There is only one person I trust to help me—Dylan. I can’t pretend it’s not true. I trust him with everything. With my life. With Madison’s. I know he’ll help me.