Seeing Maddie in my apartment should feel strange, I realize as soon as she walks in. The fact that it doesn’t only fuels my suspicions that I’ve gone insane.
And calling her baby? That wasn’t my brightest moment.
“Oh my God,” she gasps as Shadow and Mist jump from the couch where they were napping and start toward her. She kneels and extends her hands for the two cats at her feet to sniff. “Aren’t you the cutest little things I’ve ever seen? What are their names?”
“The black one is Shadow. The gray one is Mist.”
“Shadow and Mist? Are you kidding me?”
When Shadow, the traitor, rubs against her legs, I almost lose it. “This is a first.” I didn’t mean for that to come out, but it does in such a low voice, I doubt she’s even heard me.
She did. “What do you mean?”
“They’re not very social cats.” I adopted them two years ago, and they are still reluctant to come close to some of my friends, probably because we rarely hang out at my place. The fact that they warmed up to her in an instant is making me so itchy all over, I don’t know where the amazement ends and the confusion starts.
She was my patient just this morning, and she’s still too young for me. Sure, she’s an adult woman, but an age difference of ten years can’t be ignored. I can’t ignore it.
“Wow,” she breathes out, breaking the fog in my brain.
When I look at her, her gaze is on the windows right across the room.
Norcastle is famous for its tall buildings and skyscrapers, but even I can admit this view is something else—and what sold me on this place.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the river in the near distance, and during the day, the apartment floods with light and poses a homey contrast to the dark wood of my furniture that tends to feel so masculine.
“This view is amazing.” The awe in her voice is captivating.
“You should see it during the day,” I add before I can stop myself.
She shouldn’t be here, damn it. And she definitely shouldn’t stay long enough to see the sunrise.
But does that fact stop me from offering her an old hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to change into? No. It should, but it doesn’t.
I don’t regret any of it. Not for one second. Even when I tell her she can stay in my guest bedroom if she doesn’t want to go back to an empty apartment, I don’t allow myself to think twice about the choices I am making tonight.
But that doesn’t prevent me from hiding away in my bedroom after taking a quick shower. Because, at the end of the day, I’m still a coward.
I left her on my couch nearly forty-five minutes ago with Mist on her lap. And I’m still mustering the courage to go out there and not hug her and never let her get out of my sight again.
If I felt protective of her before, now it’s tenfold.
When I found out the man who had been stalking her outside Monica’s Pub was her fucking father, I had never wanted to kill a man so damn badly.
How dare he show up after all these years and demand anything from her? Disrupt her life like this, for no reason but a selfish urge?
For a second, I thought she was going to pounce on him, and I held her back. I didn’t think that one through, apparently, because the feeling of her body against my chest still burns me from the inside out. And now is not the time.
Despite everything, I can’t help but feel a strong sense of pride. Maddie never once backed down. She told him loud and clear how much of a scumbag he was and how she wanted nothing to do with him. She stood up for her brother and for herself without wavering, and I’m proud of her.
Following her example, I take a deep breath, tug on my hoodie that suddenly seems to fit too tightly around my throat, and exit the safety of my bedroom.
Maddie is still on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs and Mist snoring peacefully on her lap. The sudden urge to snap a picture of them and hang it in every single room of my apartment is so intense, I force myself to count to ten and get a grip.
Her eyes, glued on the TV, slide toward me as soon as I walk into the room. The tight-lipped smile she gives me is so empty, it makes me want to find her father and beat the shit out of him for making her lose her light.
“How are you feeling?” I take a seat on the other end of the couch, putting a safe distance between us. She’s already in my clothes and in my apartment—I don’t trust myself to not cross any more boundaries.
Mist opens his eye to look at me and closes it a second later, snuggling on her lap again. Lucky cat.
Her next words take me aback. “Like shit.” She chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. “I think I’m in shock.”
“Let me get you something to drink. Hot chocolate?” I offer.
She gives me a funny look. “You drink hot chocolate?”
“Hell yes. But if you don’t want any, I could always keep it all to myself.”
“I want some,” she’s quick to say. “Please.”
I smirk. “On it.”
Once it’s ready, I ignore the jolt of electricity that rushes through my veins at the quick brush of our fingers as I give her the steaming cup and sit back down.
“Thank you,” she murmurs before taking a sip. “And I’m sorry for asking you to bring me here. Just tell me when you want to go to bed, and I’ll leave.”
“You didn’t ask—I offered,” I remind her. I seriously need to peel my eyes away from her lips as she wraps them around the edge of that stupid mug. “You don’t want to be alone right now, and I get it. I have a spare room with clean sheets and a small bathroom you can have all for yourself. You’re not bothering me at all.”
“Promise?” She sounds so unsure, it breaks my heart.
“I promise, Maddie.”
Silence stretches between us. The TV is the only sound filling the apartment, but it’s not uncomfortable. There’s only a dim light in the living room coming from a foot lamp I keep near the couch. The rest of my place swallowed by the shadows. I stare outside the window, at our city that never sleeps, and allow my mind to stay blank.
This Friday alone has felt like a whole lifetime.
It started out with our last session as doctor and patient, after which I accepted her invitation to have dinner together. In that moment, we were just two people getting to know each other on a more personal level without the promise of anything more.
And then, against my better judgement, I brought Maddie home. But I can’t bring myself to regret it.
She needs comfort right now, and I want to be the one to give it to her.
She shifts on the couch and pets Mist when he stirs up from his sleep. She’s so gentle with him, it’s difficult to look away.
“My dad left when I was four,” she mutters, shattering our silent bubble.
Her eyes stay glued on the screen as she speaks, but I know she isn’t watching the movie.
“He wasn’t a good father. I don’t remember him ever kissing me or hugging me or playing with me. He might have, but I don’t remember it. He was my mom’s boyfriend at the time, and she got pregnant unexpectedly.” She takes an uneven breath. “I was an accident. That explains a lot.”
“It doesn’t excuse a single thing your father did,” I tell her firmly, although I’m not too sure she believes me right now. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know why he stayed with us for so long.” She shrugs like she can’t fathom that someone would stay by her side willingly.
That fucker is lucky he’s still alive.
“My mom was too naïve to see how much damage he caused. I don’t remember this, but my brother once told me that he kept losing his jobs every few months. Our mom had to pay for everything, so I guess I do get why he stayed after all. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and my mom never pressed him about it.”
Growing up with parents who loved each other and their children, I can’t say I’m familiar with what she’s been through. But seeing Maddie broken and on the verge of tears feels like someone is ripping my chest apart and tearing out my heart.
I hate that she still suffers the consequences of a father who never deserved to be one.
I shift closer on the couch until my knee is brushing hers, just so she knows that I’m here and I’m listening. That I won’t leave.
She doesn’t pull away.
“Even when I was still living with my parents, Sammy took care of me the most,” she says, and I can’t help but feel respect for her brother. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. “He took me to school, to my ballet classes, played with me, paid for my clothes and sometimes even my mom’s bills. I feel like his daughter more than I do his sister.”
“And is that a bad thing?” I ask softly.
She shrugs and opens her mouth to say something but closes it again. I don’t press her. When she’s ready to talk, I’ll be here to listen.
A car explodes in the movie we’re not watching, and she says, “At first I was happy to be with him all the time. With his girlfriend too. I grew up with a great family, friends, and love, which is way more than I could’ve asked for, given my early childhood.”
“But,” I prompt.
“But.” She gives me a wavering smile and shakes her head. “I feel like such an ungrateful brat.”
“Hey.” I nudge her knee with mine. “You might be a brat sometimes, but not because of this. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Another few moments of silence, and then she says, “I feel like a leech.”
I frown. “How?”
She shakes her head again, so I nudge her knee once more.
When she finally lets it all out, she breaks me.
“I became my brother’s problem when I didn’t have to be. And I know what you’re going to say—that he loves me and I’m not his problem, blah, blah—and you’re right, but just hear me out. He was…” She lets out a deep breath before she continues. “My brother was dating Grace when all of this went down. When he had to get custody of me. They almost broke up because of that, because of me. He didn’t want to burden her with a child and all that came with it.”
“But Grace is his wife, right? They didn’t break up,” I wonder out loud, hoping I’m remembering correctly.
“No, they didn’t break up. Thank God, because I love Grace like a mother, but that didn’t make things easier,” she explains, her voice laced with sadness. “They couldn’t have a normal relationship because there was a child in the mix. They couldn’t just go on vacation or go to a party without a babysitter. I noticed those things, James. They said they didn’t care about all that and would rather be with me, but it didn’t make the guilt go away.”
I nod, the picture of Maddie’s past and present clearer in my head. “So you felt like a burden.”
“I did,” she confirms. “They wanted to have kids, you know? My brother and Grace.”
“But you said you have a niece.”
“Yes, Lila.” She smiles at the mention of her. “She’s awesome, and I love her more than anything. But they wanted children—plural—and they could only afford to have one because I was another kid they had to take care of.”
“Wait,” I stop her, protectiveness sinking its claws into my chest. “They didn’t tell you that you are the reason they didn’t have more children, did they?”
Silence stretches between us, and I lose my breath.
If she says yes, if she tells me her own family blamed her for the children they never had, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
“They didn’t tell me anything remotely close to that,” she says, and my shoulders immediately sag with relief. But her voice comes out as a whisper, weak and sad, and I don’t like it. “They never talked about having more kids after Lila was born, but I remember them saying children before they had her. I guess I just assumed they wanted a big family, and I was the reason they couldn’t have it.”
She shuts her eyes, but she can’t hide the pain in them. Not from me.
I move closer until my arm touches hers. “What is it?” I ask, giving her that push I suspect she needs.
Mist, sensing her discomfort, jumps off and disappears down the hall, as if to give her some privacy. When she presses her lips in a thin line, sealing them tightly, and a single tear falls from her eye, I shut down all the alarms blaring inside my head and follow my instincts.
“Maddie, look at me.” She opens her eyes but doesn’t look away from her lap. Her bottom lip trembles, and I press my thumb against the corner of her mouth for a fleeting moment. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, only that it feels right. “Talk to me. What’s making you so upset?”
“It’s not important,” she whispers, breaking my goddamn heart.
“It is if it’s making you cry,” I reassure her. “And if it’s making you cry, I want to know about it so we can fix it. And if it can’t be fixed, I could always break someone’s arm or leg.”
“James!” she hisses and slaps my arm away.
I chuckle, caught off guard, and that earns me a smile. Worth it.
“I’m serious, Maddie. Tell me what’s wrong.” If she thinks it’s weird that her ex-PT just threatened to hurt someone for her, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t say anything at all.
If she doesn’t want to talk right now, I won’t force her. Never.
I recognize her pain too well.
The feeling of wanting to open up, to tell someone what’s been infesting your heart for so long, but not being physically able to get the words out.
The helplessness that comes with that invisible string made of insecurities, forcing you to stay quiet, to make the pain stay locked until only darkness remains.
I swallow back the distant but still sour memories. Memories I haven’t acknowledged in years. Nightmares I haven’t been brave enough to relive until now.
Until Maddie.
So I allow the permanent wound in my chest to open, to bleed, to hurt, and I tell her of the time I went to hell and a very different man came crawling back.
“I was about to become a professional NFL player in college when a leg injury ended my career.”
She gasps, her eyes now filled with worry. “James…”
“I was told I could lose all mobility in my leg if I ever played football again,” I keep going, showing her I can be brave too. I can be vulnerable. “Football was my life. Nothing else mattered, and it ended just like that. I went to a very dark place, and I quit college shortly after that. I went back the following year to get my PT degree, but I lost friends. I lost…”
I won’t go there. I can’t.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
“I lost everything,” I opt for, which isn’t far from the truth.
“I’m so sorry, James.” She places her hand on my knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze before drawing back. I instantly miss her touch, and I hate myself for it. “I know how you’re feeling.”
“I know how you are feeling. I’ve known all along. That’s why, when you broke down that day in my office, I wanted to help you in whichever way I could. I know what that’s like, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. The pain, the frustration, the anger…” I shake my head, but the feeling of hatred I felt for myself all those years ago still lingers. Dormant, but it’s there. How I ruined everything, how my brother… “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”
We fall silent again until she asks in the softest voice, “Is that why you decided to become a PT? To help athletes recover from injuries when you couldn’t?”
“Spot on, Maddie.” I let out a long, tired sigh. “Spot on.”
She stays silent again, but this time not for long. When she speaks next, her voice carries a hint of that light I’ve missed so damn much.
“Well, you know what? I’m not happy that you went through such a life-altering injury, but I’m happy I had you as a PT.” Her hand lands on mine, barely covering it at all, and her smile feels like a hug. “You’re a good man, James. Whoever walked away from you because you couldn’t play football anymore never deserved you in the first place. Don’t forget that.”
She has no clue how badly I needed to hear that. All of it.
Before I can think too much about the consequences that don’t seem to matter much anymore, I lace my fingers through hers. “You’ll figure things out. I’m here if you need me, okay? And I’m not just talking about your ankle. Whenever you want to vent or just pet two really fluffy cats, I’m only a text away.”
Because I’m tired of not being there for her when that’s all my heart is begging me to do.
She rests her head on my shoulder, and it feels right. It feels so right, I never want the guilt to come back.
“Friends?” she asks.
There’s not a single doubt in my soul that this firecracker of a woman who makes all the wrongs feel a bit more right is supposed to be in my life, and I’m meant to be part of hers.
“Friends.”
