Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Three Years Ago
MADDOX
“Alright baby girl let’s get you buckled up, so we can go home and get you fed,” I whisper to my daughter as I cuddle her soft blonde curls. No matter how my day has gone, nothing feels better than holding her close. It’s as if all my worries melt away, and we’re wrapped in our own little world, just the two of us.
Livvy gives me a toothy little grin as we make our way into the cool night air. I didn’t plan on bringing her tonight, but I had no other choice. The guys were great, they all helped out in-between their own rounds of training to help me with Livvy. She naturally enjoyed all the attention. My ex-wife was dust in the wind, choosing drugs over her own daughter. So more often than not Liv was with me everywhere I went.
Tonight, I’m completely wiped out. I had my training session and then helped out a few of the guys. The extra cash is nice, so I can’t really complain. I’m stashing away that money to open my own boxing center. At thirty, I know I can’t box forever. My dream is to finally get The Boxing Den up and running and train my own fighters.
I buckle my daughter in her car seat and blow a raspberry on her round belly making her laugh.
“Da-Da!”
She just started talking and I want to fucking cry every time she said Da-Da. Nothing made me prouder than hearing her first word be Da-Da. I’m a scary man, but my daughter reduces me to a damn puddle. Livvy sticks her chubby little hand out and I hand her the battered stuffed lion that’s seen better days. She doesn’t go anywhere without the damn thing and Lord forbid you leave the damn thing somewhere.
I laugh shutting her door; she has the damn thing in the tightest hug known to man, if it was alive she’d already choked the damned thing out. I climb in and start the drive home.
I stop at the redlight and look in my rearview mirror to find her already passed out. She looked like a living cherub with her fat cheeks and blonde curls snoring peacefully. The light flicks to green, and I push the accelerator, propelling us forward. Out of nowhere, blinding headlights flood my vision from the right, barreling toward us at an alarming speed. A surge of panic rushes through me as I slam on the horn, hoping to warn the driver and veer us out of danger before it’s too late. Time seems to stretch as I brace for impact, and then I hear it—the horrifying crunch of metal twisting and shattering, the sound echoing in my ears as everything goes dark.
I come to on something hard, disoriented I feel around, trying to figure out where the hell I am. What happened? What was I doing? I open my eyes and realize I’m laid in the middle of the highway. My head is pounding, and I can feel something sticky on the side of my face. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
Oh my God. Livvy.
Where the fuck is my daughter .
I rise on unsteady legs, scanning the area for my truck. Then I see it—flipped upside down, about thirty yards to my left, nestled among the pine trees. Panic surges through me as I scream my daughter’s name, racing toward the wreckage where my truck lies overturned.
She’s okay, I tell myself. She’s probably scared, maybe a little banged up, but she’s okay. She has to be okay.
When I reach my truck, my heart sinks at the sight of the crushed cab. The only opening is a hole in the shattered windshield—my only way in. Desperation drives me as I crawl through, oblivious to the shards of glass slicing into my skin. All I can think about is getting to my baby.
I catch sight of her small body, slumped awkwardly, half hanging out of her car seat. She’s turned away from me, and my heart drops at the sight.
“It’s okay baby, Daddy’s here,” I tell her softly.
I gently unbuckle her chest straps and pull her tiny body to me.
I can't tell you how long I've been sitting outside, cradling her tiny body. The commotion of police, firefighters, and EMTs coming and going is a haze, their voices echo faintly in the background. I don’t remember who tried to talk to me or urged me to move. The only clarity in that moment is my mama suddenly sitting beside me on the cold, hard ground.
“Maddy,” my mama’s voice cracks.
“S-she’s gone,” I whisper to the one person in my world who understands the weight of what I’ve just lost.
Later, I learned that a semi-truck driver, three times over the legal alcohol limit, had T-boned us at over one hundred mph. In the aftermath, I realized with horror that I hadn’t properly adjusted Livvy’s chest straps; they had been pushed down, causing her little body to come out of her car seat causing her death.