Chapter 27
Mallorie Jade
My leg bounces up and down, rattling Hayes. He claps his hand over my knee, stopping it, and I don’t bother looking at him when I stick out my tongue. He lets out a dark chuckle, low and deep, and with his hand on my knee, it’s impossible to hide the shivers that pebble my skin.
We are just outside Benton Falls and, after that, five minutes from his house, according to him.
I don’t know why, but despite our verbal agreement to be friends and the whole day we spent together, this is the thing that makes it real.
I’m choosing to ignore the part where he declared that I will be his one day—too messy.
Squirming in my seat for the hundredth time, I watch trees pass by my window. Hayes’s hand tightens on my knee when we pass the Benton Falls welcome sign, and my heart rate ticks up to a mile a minute.
We pull onto a familiar street, and I whip my head toward him.
“This is where my house is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and the guilty look on his face makes me nervous. “What are you hiding, Hayes?”
He keeps his gaze on the road, his dark brows narrowing. “Just remember you wanted to see it.”
I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that, but then his truck stops in front of a house from my memories.
“What are we doing here, Hayes?”
His hand finds the back of his neck, rubbing. “This is—uh—my house.”
My mouth pops open. “Stop playing, no it isn’t.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not playing.”
I should close my mouth. Mom says it’s my worst look, but I can’t.
This house is everything I remember, and at the same time, it’s not. The porch is no longer falling apart, and the siding gleams with new white paint. Black rocking chairs sit on the porch, surrounded by pots of fresh flowers. The wooden shutters tie the picture together, making it warm and welcoming.
“Why?” I stutter, the word getting stuck on my tongue.
“Because even when you were gone—even after everything that happened—I wanted it to be you and me. I wanted to give you that family that laughed and loved— I wanted to be your family. So I bought the house because I was holding on to a future we both gave up.”
Pain, sharp and sudden slices through me. When I lost my brother, I didn’t just grieve him, but everything else I lost too, because I knew that life couldn’t carry on as normal for me.
I don’t know what to say.
What is there to say?
We can’t go back, and moving forward will always look different than it did before, so I keep quiet.
Movement on the front porch catches my attention, and I look over in time to see Hayes’s mom and dad walking out his front door.
Another punch to the gut. These people used to be the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family that cared, and I walked away, not looking back.
Shame burns through my veins.
“Did you know they were going to be here?” I’m not angry, just shocked.
“No, MJ. I wouldn’t have done that to you.” When I swallow, it feels like glass in my throat. “We can leave if you want to. I’ll take you home.”
But I’m not listening to him. Tears slide down my cheek, silent and painful and therapeutic. I’m not sure how I manage to open the truck door because I can’t see a thing through the tears, but somehow, I’m walking up the sidewalk leading to the porch’s front steps.
Hayes’s mom meets me there, her arms spread open, and I fall into them. The tears turn to sobs. “I’m sorry for never calling. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, baby. You’re okay. It’s okay.” Her hands are soft against my hair, caressing me as she holds me. My head is buried between her shoulder and neck. She smells like laundry soap and home.
Every other person in the town may judge me and gossip about my return to town, but not Madeline Miller. She’s like a warm ray of sun on a winter day.
It’s why I never called her after I left. I knew if I did, I would be tempted to come back—to let her be the mother I never had growing up—but if I did that, then I would have had to face what Hayes and I did. So I stayed away, but I always hoped I’d get the chance to hug her again.
We stay like that for a long time, her brushing my hair in soothing strokes and me clinging to her like if I let go, she’ll disappear. The rest of the world disappears as she holds me. I don’t know if Hayes is still in his truck or where Hayes’s dad disappeared to—all that exists in this space is the comfort of Madeline’s arms.
And when the sobs subside, I pull back, offering a small smile.
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all over you.”
Her hands are still on the edges of my hair, and she gives it a gentle tug. “Don’t you ever apologize for letting me comfort one of my kids. It’s what I live for.”
“But, Madeline, I’m not your kid.”
Letting go of my hair, she sways my shoulder. “It’s Mom to you, and don’t you ever let me hear you say that again. You are my kid, and so is your brother, no matter what has happened in the past.”
Hayes’s voice breaks through the tears that threaten to spill over again. “I’m glad I’m not the only one you whack around, Mom. I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”
“Oh, hush,” Madeline says, whacking Hayes in the back of the head. I don’t know when he slipped beside us, but he gives me a wink as if he had been there all along. “Now come on. I brought supper. There’s enough for everyone.”
She spins on her heel, sashaying her way inside without looking back to see if we will follow. For her cooking, she knows we will.
I take a step to follow, but Hayes’s hand falls on my shoulder, the presence of it warm and comforting. There’s concern written on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
And for the first time in a very long time, I don’t have to lie.
“Yeah, Hayes. I am.”
When he smiles back at me, I see the boy he used to be—the one who was always up for getting into mischief with me, or at least being there so I didn’t get myself into too much trouble.
He sticks his hand out and says, “Come on. I want to show you something.”
“Your momma will skin our hides if we don’t follow her.”
Cocking one eyebrow, his grin grows broader. “Are you scared?”
I slap my hand in his, the calluses scraping against my skin in the best way. “Not of you.”
The mischief is a light in his eyes, drawing me to whatever trouble we will find. “Good. Because I won’t let you get hurt this time.”
Then he’s tugging me behind him, his grip firm but gentle, and all I can do is follow.
“Where are we going?”
“Shh. Stop asking questions. You’ll see.”
I roll my eyes, and even though Hayes is facing away from me, he says, “Your eyes are going to get stuck that way.”
Scoffing, I squeeze his knuckles together. “I’m pretty sure I got in trouble a time or two for the surprises you and Langston had for me.”
His shoulders shake with laughter, the muscles in his broad back moving under his t-shirt. I take advantage of him facing away from me and gawk.
At the end of his house, we turn right toward his backyard. Hayes steers us toward a gate and stops in front of it.
“This surprise is different. I think you’ll like it.”
He stands there staring at me, not moving an inch, and my face begins to heat underneath his gaze.
“Are we going to stand here all day, or are you going to show me?”
Dropping my hand, he pinches my side, and I squeal, dancing away from him while he opens the gate.
But before I can say anything, a furry body comes running out of the gate, colliding with me and knocking me to the ground.
My breath whooshes out of me when I collide with the ground, and I stare at the sky, trying to gain my bearings. Hot breath blows across my face, and a tongue swipes across my cheek.
“Dang it, Kota, get off of her.”
Kota.
If I weren’t already struggling to breathe, that name would have knocked the breath out of me. Turning my head, I take in the dog that accosted me. One blue eye and one brown eye stare back at me. There’s no mistaking him.
Langston’s dog.
Hayes’s face appears over the top of me, a worried wrinkle in the creases of his forehead. “Are you mad?”
I shake my head back and forth, my hair collecting grass. I need to speak—to say something—but I can’t. Tears clog my throat, making it impossible.
His Adam’s apple bobs, the gray in his eyes appearing lighter than I’ve seen it in a long time.
“Are you going to lie on the ground all day, or would you like a hand up?”
“Help, please,” I say as innocently as I can, which to my ears doesn’t sound innocent at all, but Hayes doesn’t seem to notice. He sticks his hand out, and I reach out to take it.
He should know me better, though. When his hand is in mine, I yank down hard. I catch him off guard, and his center of balance is thrown forward. I should have thought this through better because he falls towards me. Squealing, I try to roll away, but he’s faster. He tucks his shoulder so he falls onto his side and grabs my waist, rolling me with him so instead of him falling on top of me, suddenly I’m on top of him.
Hayes is all hard muscle and dark chuckles, and it’s distracting.
His breath fans across my face, sending shivers down my spine, and his hand presses harder into my lower back.
“You’re a menace,” he says. His voice is low, like it’s a secret just for him and me. I hate to tell him—the whole world knows I’m a menace.
Winking, I smack his chest. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”
“You’re right. I’ll take you however you come as long as I get to keep you in my life.” He leans in, skimming his lips on my cheek where his words caressed.
I close my eyes, swallowing hard and getting lost in him—a place that I absolutely should not let myself be.
A bark vibrates in my ear, piercing the moment.
Hayes pulls back, one corner of his lips turned up. He’s trying to look innocent, but I know him better. He doesn’t feel guilty at all, and he’s far from innocent.
He pulls back so he’s no longer squishing me, and I lie to myself, trying to pretend I don’t miss the heat.
Standing, he grabs my wrists and pulls me up, not allowing me to trick him this time. His hands brush over my hair and clothes, shaking off the grass clippings while Kota stands beside us and watches, and all the grass is gone. Hayes’s hand lingers on my arm, brushing his fingertips over my skin. Kota rubs his head against my leg, and I let my hand fall against it.
“Why?” I clear my throat. “How?”
His hand doesn’t leave my arm, tracing from my shoulder to my elbow and back. He tracks the movement up and down, leaving a trail of fire along my skin.
“I lost you and Langston. I couldn’t lose him, too. I needed a reminder that both of you existed because sometimes, right after you left, I wondered if I imagined you. It was—life was hard after Langston died and you left.” I open my mouth to interrupt, but he stops the path of his fingers on my arm and looks up. “Your mom reached out to me about a month after you left. She was grieving your brother, and in a way, I think she was grieving you, too. She didn’t have time for a dog. Kota and I—well, we needed each other.”
Kota nestles his head into my head. Looking down, I pat his head before looking back to Hayes.
“I think Langston would have been happy that you two had each other.”
Hayes steps closer, each breath I take filling my lungs with him. It’s intoxicating—addicting in a way that’s becoming hard to escape.
“Maybe so, but I’m sorry you didn’t have someone, too.” The words poke in a place I’m not ready to share with him yet, causing me to tense, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “I don’t know what sent you back here, but when you’re ready to talk about it. I’ll be here. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Maybe he moved, or maybe I did, but there’s hardly any room between us. If I were to lean in just an inch, our lips would touch.
But once again, I’m a coward.
Disappointment flicks through Hayes’s eyes, there for a moment, then gone. He pulls away, letting his hand drop from my arm and putting space between us.
Clearing his throat, he says, “We better get inside before we get yelled at.”
He grabs Kota’s collar, leading him back inside the fence and leaving me to follow with a lifetime of regret.
______________________
“So, Mallorie Jade, I hear you went into nursing.” This comes from Evan, Hayes’s dad.
We are gathered around Hayes’s table in the dining room after Hayes gave me a tour of the rest of the house. Madeline joked that it was the first time it had ever been used, but from the embarrassment that heated Hayes’s cheeks, I would say she probably wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah. I did. I never thought it would be the direction I took, but here I am.”
I don’t look up at the people surrounding me when I answer. There are too many opportunities for questions. It’s not that I don’t want to tell them about my life since I’ve been gone, but my decision to become a nurse was complicated—and the decision that sent me running back here even more so. I don’t know how I feel about it anymore, and that isn’t easy to explain.
Under the table, Hayes squeezes my leg. He still doesn’t know why I came back, but he’s here—and that means everything.
Madeline clears her throat, spearing a potato and glaring at her husband.
“What?” he asks, oblivious.
Hayes and Madeline’s laughter fills a crack in my soul, healing it.
I smile, taking in the people around me. These people are the first family who accepted me for me. They never made me feel anything less than that.
Evan is used to the laughter because he smiles with them, taking in his family. When their laughter dies down, he turns to Hayes.
“How’s the football, son?”
Evan is more of an education guy than an athletics guy. He has been since the day I met him. Langston used to think it was the best thing to listen to Evan call it “the” football. Secretly, I think he enjoyed it because he knew that Evan was one person he never had to worry about pressuring him when it came to the sport.
Hayes sets down his fork and scrubs his hand over his face. “We haven’t won a game yet, and we are two weeks into the season. I benched my varsity team because they act like entitled monsters. Lily says she’s fielding a hundred phone calls from parents and community members, and if we don’t start winning, I won’t have the position next year.”
His dad whistles through his teeth, twirling his spaghetti squash with his fork. “That’s a lot, but let me ask you a question. Is winning what’s important?”
The contrast of this man to my own father is vast. This is who Langston needed growing up, and he had him in a way. But no one’s opinion mattered to Langston quite like our dad’s.
“No,” Hayes says, shaking his head. “But I know if we are winning, it means the kids are learning the other lessons I’m trying to teach them.”
Evan sets his fork down and looks at his son. “What lessons?”
“That integrity and worth are the most important parts of who they are. I want them to know a football game can’t take those things away from them.”
“Then maybe you should take them off the football field?”
I can’t help but butt in. “What do you mean? Hasn’t he already done that by pulling them from the games?”
When Evan looks at me, there’s a twinkle in his eye.
“Maybe, but I’d venture to say they are still practicing there. If you want them to learn that football isn’t everything, take them off the field. They need a new environment. You can’t teach new lessons while staying in the same place. So,” he says, twirling his hand as if the conclusion is obvious, “take them off the field.”
Hayes chews his food, contemplating what his dad said. “Maybe you’re right.
I laugh when Evan says, “I usually am right. You’ve just not learned to listen to me yet.” Then, he goes back to his food as if the conversation never happened.
Silence settles over the table, but not the heavy kind. It’s the kind that you revel in and remember years later because of the people who were with you in that silence.
We eat the rest of the meal that way, enjoying the food and the presence of the others around us, and when we are done, Madeline stands to clear the table. I stand with her to help.
“You cooked. I’ll help you clean.” Hayes moves to help, too, but I wave him away. “I’ll help your mom. I’d like some time with her if she doesn’t mind.”
Madeline beams. “Not at all, sweetheart.”
Evan pulls out a newspaper, snapping it open to read, and Hayes sits back down while I gather the rest of the dishes.
Madeline is already at the sink when I enter the kitchen. I place the dishes on the counter beside her and grab the drying towel.
We work in silence.
She’s waiting for me to start, letting me do it on my time. So, as I swipe the towel over the plate in my hand, I take a deep breath and say, “I know I already said this, but I need you to know I’m sorry.”
Her hands stay steady as she dips them into the water and pulls up another plate. “For what?”
Shame heats my cheeks, and I keep my attention on my hands. “You were—you were like a mom to me, and I just disappeared. I didn’t even tell you I was leaving. You didn’t deserve that. I was lost. It seems to be my thing—hurting people.”
She stops, and suds splash up when she drops the plate back in the water. Turning so her hip is propped against the sink, she remains quiet as she studies me. I try not to flinch under her gaze.
When I don’t turn to face her, she places her palms on each side of my face and gently turns it to face her.
My eyes burn, and my chest feels like it might crack open.
“I have so many regrets,” I whisper.
Her thumb strikes my cheek. I want to lean into her comfort, but I’m scared. I’ve been scared for a long time.
“No one escapes this life without a few regrets. I have many of my own. But I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you needed to do to heal. Your brother’s death hit us all hard, but I can imagine you more so than anyone. Evan and I, we don’t begrudge you’re healing.”
“But what if I didn’t heal?” A tear escapes, tracing the line of my cheek. Madeline’s thumb catches it, and she wipes it away.
“Why do you say that, sweetheart?”
“Because it still hurts. Every day, it still hurts.”
Her lips tilt up. They are a little wobbly, but still, she offers me a sad smile. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t healed. You came back to Benton Falls, didn’t you? I don’t think that could have happened if you hadn’t healed at least some.”
My eyes dart over her shoulder, avoiding her again. “There are a lot of reasons I came back home, and I can’t say any of them were good.”
“Maybe so, but nevertheless, you came back. You are so brave, Mallorie Jade. Braver than you realize. I don’t think I have to worry about you. You will find your way—now, my son, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about him.”
She drops her hands from my face and turns back to the sink.
I don’t turn from where I am, taking in her side profile. In all the years I’ve known Madeline, I’ve never seen her look like this. Gone is the woman who offered me comfort moments ago, and in her place stands a worried mother. There’s raw pain on her face as she brushes the back of her hands, still covered in suds, against her cheeks. I’m looking at the woman my mother should have been before Langston died, and I can’t help but wonder if Langston would be alive if either of my parents had bothered to care then as much as Madeline does for Hayes.
My chest hitches as the rest of me goes numb.
“Why are you worried about Hayes?”
She scrubs harder at the plate that’s already sparkling, and there’s a catch in her voice when she says, “Because he’s lost, and I don’t know how to lead him home.”
I lay my hand gently on her forearm, causing her to pause.
“What do you mean?”
Puffing, she blows her hair out of her face and then places the plate on the counter for me to dry. I take it as a hint that she needs to continue moving to have this conversation, so I pick it up and start drying again.
“Hayes has been different since Langston died and you left.” She stops, looking at me when I flinch. “Not that I’m blaming you for that. It’s like he thinks he needs to atone for something, and I can’t understand what. I can understand that grief comes differently for everyone, but Langston’s death was an accident. Nothing else.”
My blood freezes.
If only that were true.
Hayes and I both took Langston’s death on our shoulders. Maybe we weren’t driving the car, but we should have been—and that causes enough guilt to last a lifetime.
I keep still, though, not expressing that thought to Madeline because the truth lies between Hayes and me.
“Anyway,” she continues, “After he came home from college and quit football, he was lost. He jumped on into the position at the station, and at first, I’d hoped it was because he was starting to heal, but I quickly realized it was his way of assuaging that guilt on his shoulders. He does it because he gets to help people—people like Langston—but he’s also stuck in that moment, constantly reliving it. I don’t think he will ever let go of this guilt. Do you know how hard it is for a mother to watch her son believe that he isn’t even worthy of God’s love?”
I shake my head.
“No, ma’am, I don’t.” I try to hide the hitch in my voice because this grief is not mine to hold, not when I helped contribute to it. I shouldn’t have left. I should have made sure that Hayes wasn’t falling into the same pit that I was, but would I have been able to change it if I had stayed when I was barely surviving myself?
“It’s one of the hardest trials I’ve been through as a mother, but—” she pauses, turning her head to look at me, a gleam hiding behind the tears in her eyes, “maybe he’s starting to find his way home. I hope you both are.”
A knock on the kitchen wall interrupts us before I can ask her what she means by that because I am home, however reluctantly.
Evan pokes his head in the doorway, a grin on his face. “My lady, shall I take you home?”
Madeline drains the water left in the sink, drying her hands on the towel I’m holding, and kisses my cheek. “Sometimes home is not always what we expect.”
Then she’s walking toward Evan. He meets her halfway, taking her hand and spinning her in a circle before dipping her low to the floor.
Her laugh is such a sharp contrast to the tears she had just moments ago. There’s a pull in my chest that feels a lot like envy. I want someone like that—someone who can fill my gray with color—and when Hayes appears in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the wall with a backward ball cap on his head and a smile on his face, I fear I’ve already found him.