Chapter 53
Fifty-Three
Beckett
Two days later, I’m back at the Callahan house. Hudson opens the front door before I can knock. He’s been checking in regularly.
“Donna’s sleeping,” he says, stepping onto the porch with me.
I nod. “Good. Thanks for this.”
He studies me for a beat. “You’re not here just as backup.”
“No.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Didn’t think so.” He lowers his voice. “She’s stabilizing. It’ll be a few weeks before we know whether this medication adjustment holds. Mania that escalated that fast doesn’t unwind overnight.”
I glance toward the upstairs window. I don’t see Madison, but I feel her somewhere inside the house like a live wire.
Hudson follows my line of sight.
“You know the littlest Callahan?” he asks.
“Which one?”
“The one who stares at you like she’s assessing your weaknesses.”
A laugh escapes me. “Rowan?”
“That’s the one.” He adjusts his glasses. “I think she bites.”
“She does.”
Hudson smirks. “Good. Someone should.” He claps my shoulder once. “Madison is lucky she has you.”
When he leaves, and I step inside, the house feels quieter than it did a couple of nights ago.
Arthur greets me in the hallway. “She’s resting. Your friend… he’s very good.”
“He is.”
Arthur’s shoulders sag. “Thank you for coming.”
I nod once. “Where’s Madison?”
“In the kitchen. Maybe you’ll convince her to sleep.”
He looks every inch the worried father when he steps away.
Madison is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter. She’s staring out the window, a million miles away.
I lean against the doorway rather than walking up behind her. “Hi, neighbor.”
“Hi, Doc,” she whispers.
“How is she?”
“Better.” She takes a deep breath. “For now.”
She dries her hands on a towel. I don’t think they’re wet. I just think she needs something to do with them.
When she finally turns, I see the distance. There’s exhaustion and worry there, in her posture and in the way she crosses her arms. I see how she’s trying to get as far away as she can.
“You look tired,” I say.
“I am.”
“Are you sleeping?”
“Enough.”
That’s a lie.
I take a step closer.
She steps back.
“Madison.”
“I’m fine, Beckett.”
Fine.
The most dangerous word in the English language when it comes from her.
We stand there for a moment, the air thick with everything she isn’t saying.
“Hudson thinks the meds will hold,” I offer. “It’ll take time.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to carry this alone.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Her eyes flash. “I asked Piper and Rowan to help. Noah is upstairs.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Silence.
She smooths down the front of her sweater. It’s a nervous habit, one I’ve rarely seen from her because Madison doesn’t get nervous.
“I appreciate what you did, calling Hudson and staying. But you don’t need to keep checking in.”
“I want to.”
She looks away.
I move closer before she can retreat again. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t, so I reach up and hook my fingers under her chin. Reluctantly, her eyes meet mine. They’re guarded now, like she’s rebuilding the walls brick by brick.
“Don’t disappear on me.”
Her breath catches. “I’m not disappearing.”
“You are.”
Her throat works as she swallows, but she doesn’t answer because she knows I’m right.
I brush my thumb along her jaw, then lean in and kiss her.
It’s brief, but her lips soften for half a second.
This isn’t the moment to fight her. She has enough on her plate, so I step outside before I push.
She needs space.
I’m halfway to my car when I hear my name. “Beckett.”
I turn and see Piper following me.
She looks like Madison in structure. They have the same cheekbones, but Piper’s hair is almost black compared to Madison’s copper, and her eyes are softer.
“Is everything alright?”
She tucks her hands into her sleeves. “Don’t tell her I spoke with you.”
My brow lifts. “That depends.”
“She’ll try and shut you out,” Piper says quietly. “She does that when things get bad. When she feels like she’s the weak one. She doesn’t let people see this part. Not really.”
I think about the way Madison stepped between her mother and the world that night. The way she cracked only when she thought no one was watching.
Piper swallows. “She thinks that if you see too much, you’ll leave.”
I hold her gaze. “I’m not leaving.”
Piper searches my face, measuring it. “She won’t believe you.”
“She doesn’t need to believe me yet.”
A flicker of something like hope crosses her expression. “She’s been the strong one since we were kids. She doesn’t know how to not be.”
“I’m not asking her to stop being strong.”
“Then what are you asking?”
I glance back at the house. “For her to let someone else be strong too.”
Piper nods. “Please don’t let her push you away. We need her, but she needs someone too.”
I give her a small smile. “I’m not that easy to scare.”
A faint, relieved smile curves her lips. “Good.”
I know this isn’t about winning Madison. It’s about standing still long enough that she realizes I’m not moving.