Chapter 6 Coffee and Pancakes
COFFEE AND PANCAKES
MADISON
The sweet aroma of coffee pulls me from sleep, warm and rich.
I roll over—too far—and my body thuds against the floor, half cushioned, half hardwood.
My heart falls right with me. Groaning, I rub at my eyes before cracking one open.
Sunlight filters through the windows in soft golden ribbons, and the sound of birds chirping drifts in on the morning air.
Slowly, I sit up, wincing at the pounding in my head.
Too many wine slushies. My stomach muscles feel tight, the ache a reminder of just how hard we laughed last night.
Collapsing in a heap, unable to breathe, tears streaming down my face at Tessa’s tragic karaoke.
Sarah’s dramatic reenactments of every bad pick-up line a man has ever tried on us.
I push myself to my feet, tugging down the hem of my oversized shirt until it hangs just above my knees.
I’m missing a fuzzy sock, so I yank off the other, tossing it aside.
I spot a lone claw clip abandoned on the table and pick it up, twisting my hair back to clip it away from my face.
The smell of coffee tugs me forward as I shuffle toward the kitchen.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mom greets me, cracking eggs into a bowl.
“How are you even awake?” I grimace, sliding onto the stool at the counter.
She smiles softly, pushing a mug of hot coffee toward me.
My brain does this little happy dance as I lift the mug like a lifeline.
I inhale the scent before taking a cautious sip, not wanting to burn my taste buds off.
A small moan slips from me when I get that first taste, and my shoulders drop with relief.
“I didn’t want to miss breakfast with you,” she tells me, dropping a cup of flour into the bowl.
“So you haven’t slept?” I narrow my eyes in worry.
“I got a few hours in. I can nap later. No need to worry about me, sweetheart.”
She’s right, I shouldn’t worry. Mom’s been doing this my whole life; she knows when to push and when to stop. Still, the older I get, the more I worry about her. I can’t help it.
“Fine,” I say, reaching for my mug again. “But if I check in later and you still haven’t slept, I’ll be mad.”
She laughs, sliding the bowl toward me and pressing a whisk into my hand. “Promise. Now tell me how your girls’ night went.”
I finish off my coffee, glancing around.
Only just noticing the girls are nowhere in sight.
A flicker of guilt passes through me. I should probably find my phone, check in on them, and thank them for last night.
Even with the pounding in my head and the slight roll in my stomach.
I feel so much lighter. Having my girls in my corner makes me believe I can get back to being the loud, fun version of myself I’ve been missing.
Lowering the whisk into the bowl, I start combining the ingredients. “Speaking of the girls. Were they gone when you woke?”
“Tessa was,” Mom says, reaching for the notepad she always keeps on the counter. She holds it up with a smile. “She wrote, Thanks for all the laughs, but some of us have to work.”
I rub at my temple, the dull throb of my wine headache pulsing under my fingers. “I need her superpowers. The way that girl can drink and still get up at dawn to open Sunlit Espresso is inspiring.”
Mom chuckles, pouring herself more coffee. “You two have always been opposites when it comes to mornings and nights.”
“What about Halle and Sarah?” I ask, setting the bowl and whisk back down.
Mom turns the stove on, dropping butter into the pan.
The smell of it melting instantly makes my stomach growl.
“They were on their way out when I started the coffee. You just missed them. Halle said she’ll catch up with you later, and Sarah was very grateful for the night off.
” She pauses, lifting her mug for a sip. “She seems nice.”
“She reminds me of you, actually,” I say, handing her the bowl of batter. “Her energy is very warm, and she’s a single mom doing it all on her own. I don’t know her story, but I do know us girls will be here for her.”
A smile blooms across her face, her eyes softening in the way that makes my chest ache. “You’re one in a million, my beautiful girl. Please never lose that kind heart of yours.”
“Love you, Mom,” I whisper, standing to wrap my arms around her for a quick hug. “Thank you for letting me have a girls’ night here.”
“You’re always welcome,” she says firmly, squeezing me once before turning back to the stove. “This is your home as much as it is mine, even if you don’t live here anymore. Now go shower quickly, and I’ll finish these pancakes.”
I wander back to the living room, gathering the blankets and pillows we’d left across the floor. Carrying them to my room, I try not to stumble over the ends of them.
“Lemon or strawberries?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
“Surprise me,” I call back, smiling to myself as I push open the bathroom door.
Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom feeling like I could take on the world.
Amazing what a hot shower, a strong cup of coffee, and clean teeth can do for a girl with a hangover.
I find my phone on the dresser in my room, buzzing with a heap of notifications.
The girls’ chat has been renamed to WINE NOT.
I can’t help but laugh and tap the thread, seeing that Halle added Sarah to the chat.
Tessa: GOOD MORNING Sunshines.
Halle: HOW? How are you so peppy after last night? I feel like I got hit by a truck!
Tessa: I’m a creature of my own.
Sarah: I haven’t had a hangover since before Remi. Someone tell me how I’m supposed to parent today?
Halle: Put on Bluey and pray?
Halle: Also, Asher wants to know if we’re still on for swims down at Falls Creek today? I told him to go away.
Sarah: The only way I’m moving off this couch today is to feed my child.
Tessa: Oh come on. Don’t be lightweights. Sunshine and fresh air are basically a hangover cure.
Halle: We can’t all have your talents… or your questionable liver.
Sarah: Has anyone heard from Madison yet?
Tessa: We won’t hear from her until she’s well caffeinated and fed.
I grin at my reflection in the dresser mirror, shaking my head. Well caffeinated and fed—aw, they really do know me.
A soft knock pulls me from my phone, and I glance over to see Mom standing in the doorway.
“Pancakes are ready,” she announces, the smell of butter and lemons drifting in from behind her.
My mouth waters at the thought of a homemade stack. I need something to soak up all the wine still lingering in the pit of my stomach. Following Mom to the kitchen, I quickly let the girls know I’m alive.
Me: Why did we drink so much wine?
Tessa: Wine not?
Halle: I see what you did there.
I snicker, shaking my head before firing back.
Me: Ha. Ha. Very funny. I’m alive, I’m eating pancakes, and I am absolutely not swimming today.
Tessa: Boo you guys.
The zesty pancakes hit the spot—fluffy, tangy, and sweet enough to erase the dull headache. I lean back in my chair, letting out a happy sigh, feeling content in a way I haven’t in weeks.
“Girls’ night good?” Mom asks around a mouthful.
“So good!” I smile widely. “It was exactly what I needed. A night to let loose, not think, and just have fun with my girls.”
Mom beams at me, but the dark lines under her eyes betray how little rest she’s gotten.
My stomach tightens a little as I glance at my phone, silently cursing the time.
I can’t hide out here forever. Picking up our dirty dishes, I get started on cleaning.
It’s the bare minimum I can do after last night.
“How was your shift?” I ask, stacking the dishwasher. “Did the little girl love your pink scrubs?
“It was a long night.” Her smile falters. “Millie loved my pink scrubs. She asked if I could wear them again.” There’s a quiet defeat in her tone, and I can’t help but wonder how long Millie has been in the hospital… and how much time she has left.
Mom never talks about her patients in detail or shares their diagnoses.
That’s what makes her one of the most trusted, loyal nurses in town.
She always says, It’s not my story to tell.
To her, respecting their privacy is the least she can do when they’re vulnerable, when they’re still holding on to hope.
“I’m sorry. I know those long nights weigh heavy on you.”
“It comes with the job, sweetheart.” She smiles softly, then lifts a brow. “Speaking of, we haven’t seen you come in for a while to read to the kids.”
I finish wiping down the counter, my shoulders slumping under the weight pressing down on me.
Guilt settles in my chest as I think back to the last time I went to the hospital.
It’s been months. The kids always look forward to my visits once a month without fail.
I’d make my way around to each room, read them stories, play dress-ups, or break out a board game.
I loved those moments—seeing them smile, helping them forget the heaviness of why they’re there, even just for a little while.
I’ve dropped the ball these past few months, and I hate to think of how disappointed they must feel.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Don’t be. You’ve had a lot going on, too.”
“I’ll stop in soon, I promise. I miss the kids. How’s Charlie?” I ask about my favorite girl, who insists on dressing up as Elsa every time I see her.
“She’s doing amazing. We’re hopeful for a discharge soon. The nurses want to throw her a going-home party.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, my smile brightening at the news. “I can plan it. And I’ll start my monthly visits again this month. I miss volunteering. I miss the kids.”
“Okay, I’ll let the other nurses know to expect you. Everyone will be happy to see you around again.”
“I’d better get going, and you need to go back to bed.” I wrap my arms around her, holding on a little tighter than usual, breathing in the comfort only she can give.
“Off you go then,” she murmurs in my ear before pulling away.
I quickly shove the coffee table back into place and put the couch back together before grabbing my things.
“Hey, Mom?” I call as I open the front door.
She pauses mid-step, glancing back at me. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say.
Sliding into the front seat, I jam the key into the ignition. The hum of the engine fills the quiet, and my phone buzzes in the cup holder. I’m half expecting to find the girls’ chat to light up, but it’s not them.
Connor: Hey Madi so uhm, Hunter’s coming into work tonight. Tuesdays are usually dead so Ash and I wanted to check in and see if you wanted the night off or if you’re okay coming in with Hunt here?
My grip tightens around the phone. Of course, he’ll be in tonight.
Whiskey Cove, after all, is his bar. I can’t blame him for wanting to get back into the swing of things.
My stomach dips like I’ve hit the first drop of a roller coaster at the thought of seeing him.
My thumb hovers, hesitation burning in my chest. Am I ready to be in the same room with him?
I don’t know, but I can’t keep avoiding him.
I love working there, and the sooner we face each other, the sooner we can all stop walking on eggshells.
Me: Love you guys for looking out for me but no, I have to face him at some point. May as well get it over with.
The dots appear instantly, and Connor’s reply comes through before I can overthink.
Connor: Thatta girl. We have your back.
I throw my phone back into the cup holder, feeling the heavy weight lifting off my chest. Air rushes into my lungs, fuller, easier.
It’s like I can finally breathe again after all these months.
My hands find the steering wheel, and a shaky laugh slips out before I can stop it.
I don’t have all the answers, but I refuse to let Hunter and my screw-ups tear apart the family we have here.
This is home. These people are my home.