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26
MADDIE
I drawmy fingers against the side of my thigh, concentrating on each press of my fingertip against the silky fabric of my dress.
I’m hyperfocusing. I know that but I can't stop. Because if I stop focusing on one small thing, then everything is going to rush in. All those big, messy uncomfortable feelings are going to flood me. They're going to overtake me like a tidal wave, catch me up in the riptide, and pull me out to sea.
They’ll gladly smile and wave and watch as I drown, gulping for air, flailing frantically and screaming for a life raft. But these feelings, they don't care that I don't want to experience them. They demand their penance. They've been locked up for too long, and these types of feelings don't go quietly into the night.
They rage and they ruin and they burn down everything around them.
It's a necessary process, feeling your emotions. The only way to move on in life is to move through it. Intellectually, I know that—hell, even emotionally I know that, but like most things, it takes time. It's not a snap of the fingers and instant gratification.
It’s a long and messy book, and I'm on the very first page.
The sands of time slip through my fingers, and we’re in front of the door back at the Barry Hotel. Matteo pushes the door open, and Dante sweeps in while the three of us wait out in the hall. “All clear,” he calls from somewhere inside.
I don't waste another second. I scoot around Matteo and beeline for the balcony. Jamming my finger against the button on the wall, I impatiently wait for the window to open. I slide through the gap before it's even fully retracted, and I march over near the edge but not too close.
I’m pleasantly surprised that my fear of heights is enough to pierce this mental volcano I'm standing on. Curling my hands around the back of the lounger, I tip my head back toward the sky and I scream.
I pour my pain from my mother, my dad, and my biological father into the stars and the sky. All of them deserve my wrath for this betrayal.
I don't know if I'll ever get over this, but I know one thing is for sure: I will never forget.
They decided to play god that day and they changed everyone's fate. And for what?
What's that saying? All the roads to hell are paved with good intentions. What about the ones paved with bad intentions? Do those go to a different layer in hell?
I take a deep, heaving breath and keep my eyes screwed up tight as I let myself feel the betrayal, the lies, and the anger. There’s so much anger. It feels like an endless vat of liquefied rage. It bubbles and spits, churning and churning inside my gut.
I'm almost afraid to let it loose. There's a small part of me that thinks I should let it loose on Sloane and Vito. I can’t bring myself to call her Mom, and I’ll never call him Dad. They're just two people who happen to share my DNA. They're not my parents.
I've never even met Vito until today. And while my mother might have been around physically on occasion, she was never really there mentally.
My head spins. A sharp pain throbs in my temple as I try to reframe my entire life. How can one thing shape who you are? It’s almost insane how one small lie affects the construct of my very foundation.
My dad—my real dad, Collin Walsh—was the one who took me to dance classes, had action movie marathons with me, and snuck ice cream after bedtime. This feels like treachery to him.
That cliche adage he'll always be my dad to me crosses my mind, and while it's too true, it doesn't feel like it's enough.
I lick my lips and I yell once more. A quick, anguished sort of sound as I give my emotions to the moon and the stars. I hope Hades himself can hear my plea.
“Daughter—his daughter. Ha!” I scoff.
How can I be the daughter of a man I just met? A man who's in charge of the Las Vegas mob. A man who hates my men because of their father. What kind of relationship is even possible for two people like that? From where I'm sitting, there is no possibility.
I hear movement behind me, a soft shuffling of feet, but I keep my eyes closed and my face tipped towards the heavens. In an ironic twist of fate, I find myself once again, seeking solace from the stars. Something my dad once taught me.
I choke a little on the word dad. It's stupid, I know. He raised me, and he was a father in every sense of the word. I scrunch my face up, trying to wade through my messy nest of emotions. My eyes well behind closed lids, and a tear trails down my cheek.
I don't move to wipe it away. It feels wrong somehow. I'm not ashamed of my emotions. And my mother isn’t here to shove me in a corner and tell me to look pretty and be quiet. I exhale a breath, feeling a little more centered.
“Do you think he knew? My dad, I mean.” My whispered words get swept up by the warm breeze. I'm kind of surprised it's still so warm out. I always thought the desert was supposed to get cold at night.
“I don't know.” Leo's voice is low and soothing. “But even if he did, he loved you.”
It brings a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. They roll down my cheeks, fall off the edge of my chin, and splash onto my chest. Somehow I knew it would be Leo to come for me. We have a different connection, him and I. Truthfully, I have a unique connection with all four of them. One that I hope to strengthen over time.
