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CHAPTER15
Ispent the rest of my day torturing myself, shut away in my room, going through the publications Jane had left. There were times I almost snapped, but I held my shit together. I had a two-year-old nephew running around; that shit would probably scare him to death if he saw his uncle acting like a caveman. Some of that shit I couldn't even look at.
I took a break to go play with Rex; he seemed to be holding his own pretty good since I was here, we didn't let him sleep with us at home, but he was so damn lost that at night I was sneaking him into my room. Poor lil tyke missed his mama, the bitch. There was some shit in the rags about us fighting over Rex, like that shit would happen; let's face shit if I can't trust you anymore, why the fuck would I trust you with my kid?
Okay, Rex was a dog, but he was still my responsibility. He couldn't fend for himself, and I'm sure when I signed those papers to take him home, those people expected me to take care of him. If people can't use better judgment, they shouldn't be trusted; enough said. I could give a fuck who agreed with me; that's my stand fuck off.
When I was through driving myself crazy with this fuckery I joined my family downstairs. Jonathan was running the show, as usual, getting into shit.
"Hey, son, you're looking better." My dad gave me one of his smug looks.
"Yeah, dad, I'm cool." The rest of them checked me out like I was a mental patient fresh off the meds. The fuck?
"Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," Mom called from the kitchen. I wasn't sure I could swallow anything, but if I wanted to keep the women in this house off my ass, I was gonna have to make an effort. We made small talk until dinner was ready. My nephew was pulling the fuck out of my hair and laughing. At least he kept the rest of them distracted from my fuckery; I was jittery as fuck, not knowing what the hell to do with myself.
I wanted to know what the fuck was going on with Suzette, but I didn't want to talk to her brother again; he obviously had a missing link. The only thing I could think of was putting a shadow on her, but that didn't feel right to me; I didn't want any other motherfucker near her, plus this was private, fuck if I knew what to do. I played it cool with the family, bullshitting with them around the dinner table; I guess my acting lessons were paying off because not even mom picked up on my shit, and she was worse than a hound on a fox hunt.
It's two o'clock in the morning, and I can't sleep for shit; I'm restless and twitchy. I've pretty much been in the same state since receiving that phone call. It's a bitch analyzing yourself when you're all alone in the middle of the night without alcohol to cloud your mind. Who am I right now? I don't know who the fuck I've been since this fuckery started; it's like I left my body or something and was just going on fumes. I don't think I really stopped to think about what the fuck I was dealing with. I needed to have a one-to-one, alright but not with that fuck Terry Poole; I needed to have one with myself. This was my life, I wanted it back, and no douchetard motherfucker was going to control what I did or how I felt, fuck that shit. What's mine I keep; I wish a motherfucker would fuck with my shit ever again. Balls to the wall Maddox.
It was time to go General Hannibal on these fucks.
I had keys in hand and was in my Aston Martin in less than ten minutes.
* * *
I madethe trip in half the time; what the fuck was the point in having a sports car if you weren't going to utilize it? I parked a little ways down the street from my destination and walked. The street was deathly quiet as was to be expected at fuck me o'clock in the damn night. I reached the tree that would get me into the house and took a deep breath. My heart was like a runaway train in my fucking chest, and my hands were sweating. Punk ass. I worked the kinks out of my neck and started climbing; this wasn't my first time at the rodeo; I'd pulled this stunt before, but only then I was sure of my reception; this time, I had no fucking clue what awaited me at the end of this fuckery. I hoisted myself through the window, and the scent hit me. Fuck me, sensory overload, fucking strawberries, and vanilla. I was literally stopped in my tracks; how the fuck did I forget that? That was one of the things that first drew me to her; her fucking scent drove me insane. Hands in the front pockets of my jeans, I stood in the corner out of the view of the window; you never know what nosy ass neighbor had insomnia and was watching shit out their window; that's the last damn thing I needed.
There was more than enough light coming in through the window so I could see, and the first thing I noticed was the gauntness of her features; the second was the tear tracks on her cheeks. I bit my fist to keep the groan from escaping. She looked so small and helpless, nothing like the vibrant, vivacious girl of my dreams. I slid down the wall, hands clasped on my forehead, nose burning from holding back tears. I wanted so much to go to her, but I couldn’t, not yet, not without answers.
"Gage."
Fuck did she see me? My body tensed as I prepared to flee, but looking towards the bed, I saw that she was asleep still, and tears were once again rolling down her cheeks. Well, just fuck. She was calling for me in her dreams. That ought to mean something, right? I felt my own tears seeping from the corners of my eyes as I watched her beloved face, so ravaged, so pale. No wonder Jonas had lost his shit. She looked at death's door.
I spent the night sitting in that corner thinking and planning, going over and over in my head what was the best course of action. Everything was spinning out of control. Sitting here gazing at her, it all seemed so simple, so easy. I knew what dad was talking about that first day, the Maddox male legacy to love only once and love hard. As often as I had heard the stories, I don't remember once hearing about the woman cheating. Don't think about that shit now; you can't lose your fucking mind in her bedroom in the middle of the night; that'll just fuck shit up even worse. So I sat, and I watched, and I planned, and in that time, she called out for me three times, and each time I had to fight to stay in my corner. Soon little butterfly, man, I hope soon.
When the first rays of morning light filtered through, I got up to leave. I tried not to do it, but I couldn't help myself, so with the lightest touch, I kissed her brow, drawing in her warm scent before making my escape.
The ride home was long and tedious; I had so much on my fucking mind it was a wonder I could concentrate on driving. It was still too early for much traffic, so I had the roads to myself. Nothing but open road and cluttered thoughts to keep me company. One thing was for sure James was going to have to step his shit up; I didn't have the time I thought I did. If she was this fucked up now, I can't imagine what another couple of weeks would do to her. I tried to hold on to the anger I felt in the beginning, but the fire wasn't there, it hadn't been extinguished completely, but it was now tempered with reason and the look of desolation on a sleeping girl's face. She was breaking my fucking heart.
Mom was in the kitchen bustling around when I got home; the rest of the house seemed to be still asleep. I knew my loved ones would need to get back to their lives soon; they were only here to support me; dad had been going in for only a few hours a day, which for him was a monumental sacrifice. The man ate, slept, and drank medicine. Tiffany had left a buying trip in Europe to come home, Derrick could work from anywhere as long as he had an Internet connection, and Brian had been conferencing with the office over FaceTime or Skype or some such shit. I appreciated them all so much, but I had to get my shit together so everyone could get back to their lives.
"Morning, son, you're out and about early."
I sighed as I dropped onto a stool at the kitchen island. I pulled the fuck out of my hair, much as Jonathan had been doing the night before. I wish I was six years old again so I could let my mother handle all my shit, but then again, if I was six, I wouldn't be having this problem. No paparazzi, no dirty old douche trying to steal my girl, and no Suzette.
"I went for a drive." I was so not ready to share my nocturnal excursion with anyone. I watched absently as my mom prepared breakfast. Usually, she had help, but with my fuckery and the need for privacy, she didn't want to risk it, not that we couldn't trust the staff, they'd been with us since before I was born, but sometimes it paid to be cautious. Mom droned on about some shit in the background as my mind wandered to where it had been for the past week and a half. Suzette. Fuck Suzette, what am I gonna do with you? As if in answer, Gotye rang out in the morning stillness of the kitchen. Fuck it.
