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“What are you not telling me, Ky?”
“Like I said, not my story.”
“But it could be dangerous—”
The front door opens and Madison steps in, grinning like the damn Cheshire cat when she sees both of us on the couch. “Good. You’re both here.”
I would respond, if not for the fact that I can’t comprehend why the hell she’s holding a bouquet of white lilies.
She stands in front of the TV, placing a plastic bag and the lilies on the coffee table. And then...nothing. She just stands there smiling at the both of us.
I look over at Jax but he’s focused on her.
Sighing, I stand up and take the steps to get to Madison. I grip her arm and turn my back on Jax so he can’t hear me whisper, “What the hell are the white lilies for? And why did you ask Jackson to come here?”
She pulls back a little so she can look up at me. “Well...” she sings, “the white lilies go with this.”
She reaches over to the bag on the table and pulls out a wooden picture frame—the word ‘MOM’ etched on the top. “Look,” she says, her grin still displayed. She points to the picture of an older woman with two young men standing on either side. “It could be you and Jax.”
Jax chuckles.
I glare at him, then give my attention back to Madison. “And what’s he here for?”
“He’s my back up.”
“Your back up?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, Ky, we’re going to visit Christine today—”
“No, we’re not!”
She flinches slightly. “And Jackson is here to help me convince you.”
I direct my gaze at Jackson. He holds his hands up in surrender, leans back into the couch, stretches his arms on the back of it, and kicks his feet up on the table. Then he shakes his head and waves a hand at us. “Carry on,” he states.
I drag Madison by her arm into the bedroom and shut the door. “What the hell are you doing?”
She sits on the edge of the bed, a perfect frown on her face. “It’s time, Ky.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Maybe not,” she says quietly, fear in her eyes for the first time since she walked in. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” She hugs her waist. “I just know that I’d give anything to see my mother—or even have one that would want to see me.”
My words catch in my throat. She just stares at me with pity in her eyes. Like I—out of the two of us—is deserving of pity. I sit next to her. “Are you doing this for me or you, Maddy?”
“Neither,” she says. “I’m doing it for Christine and Jackson.”
Her hand moves slowly down my arm, capturing my hand in hers. “We don’t have to go. I just thought...” she trails off.
“You thought what?” I ask, turning back to her.
“Wouldn’t it be nice, Ky? To be able to see them, mend some bridges or whatever. Christmas is coming up. We could spend it with them. You know...as a family.”
“You’re still going to want me in a few months when Christmas rolls around?”
“I’m always going to want you, Kyler Parker.”
***
I push Jackson’s feet off the coffee table. “You’re driving.”
“Like I had a choice.”
23
KY
IT TAKES US a half hour to drive to my childhood home.
Jackson starts to slow when we pass my old house, and then stops in front of Christine’s.
By now, my thoughts are in overdrive. My palms have formed a sheen of sweat. My heart is racing. “It’ll be okay,” Madison assures me from the back seat.
“There she is,” Jackson says, jerking his head out the window.
And there she is in the front yard, on her knees attending to the garden. It’s like time hadn’t changed her at all. I sniff the air—which seems stupid at the time—but doing so brought back all the memories I’ve tried hard to suppress.
“Whenever you’re ready, man. We’re in no rush.”
I nod, thankful that Jackson understands my hesitation.
“Here,” Madison says, grabbing my attention. She offers the lilies to me. I hold her gaze a moment, hoping that somehow her confidence in the situation will rub off on me. My face presses firmer against her hand when she cups my cheek. Her eyes, glassy with tears, stay fixed on mine. And then she smiles. “All you have to do is exist,” she says.
My eyes drift shut. “Exist?”
I feel her lean forward, and the next second, her mouth lands gently on mine. “Just exist,” she whispers, pulling back.
I keep my eyes closed. “Another one,” I say.
She laughs once and gives me what I want—what I didn’t know I need.
***
I walk up the driveway, glancing back at Jackson and Madison, who are now watching from outside the car. Then I look at Christine—her back to me, her head down, humming something about bass and treble. Through my nerves, my anticipation, and my fear, I somehow manage to smile. I stop a few feet behind her and take one more look at Madison. “Breathe,” she mouths.
So I do.
After the third breath, I finally gain the courage. “Ma...”
She stops-mid movement; her head slowly lifting. She sets her tools to the side and sits back on her heels. Then her shoulders shake. Her hands cover her face, muffling the sound of her sobs.
