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“No. He despises our father most of the time.” He let out a long breath and stared at me for a moment as if he were deciding how much he would share. “ALS is a brutal disease. My father didn’t handle it well, to say the least. He’d married a supermodel, and apparently, they’d been ridiculously in love at one point. At least, that was what she’d told us, and I do remember him being around a lot more before my mom got sick. But he checked out after she was diagnosed. Obviously, we had the money and the resources for the best care, so we had a nurse that lived with us full time that last year, on top of the staff that was usually around. My mother refused to go to a hospital, as she wanted to be in her home, surrounded by family. But my father was out being photographed with women, with not a care in the world about how that would make my mother feel, while she was losing control of her body and her speech every single day.”
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered, trying to speak over the lump in my throat that was so thick it was difficult to talk. “And you were there with her until the end?”
“Wyle and I were both with her. She was still mentally there, you know? And I learned to decipher her speech those last few weeks, even though most people couldn’t understand what she was saying. I’d called our father and begged him to come home during that time, but he was off in Europe with some random woman. He wanted nothing to do with my mom once she was sick. So, I watched her suffer physically, but even more so emotionally.”
“That’s horrible. He never came back to say goodbye?”
“No. He hadn’t been home in weeks, which is when things got really bad. He claims he couldn’t watch it. He’s a selfish asshole. He thought the nurses would handle everything. But my mom didn’t want to die with a woman she barely knew at her bedside.”
“So, what happened?”
“It was Christmas Eve, and we were all supposed to go to my grandparents’ the next day. Apparently, my father was going to grace us all with his presence and return home the following morning like some sort of fucking Christmas miracle. Mom was in a wheelchair at that time, so she was no longer walking and hadn’t been for a while. But I knew things were bad because she was choking all the time and had refused to be put on a ventilator. She didn’t want to extend her life at that point because she didn’t feel like she was really living, you know?”
“I can understand that.”
He nodded before he looked away and then turned back to face me. “A gasping sound woke me from my sleep that night. I’d heard it before, but the nurse was always there trying to settle her. I didn’t hear anyone talking to her, so I made my way down the hall and found her gasping for air in her bed. I called out for help, but there was no nurse, no staff. No one was there.”
His shoulders were stiff, his eyes distant, and my chest squeezed at the sight of him. “Where were they?”
“We learned the next morning that she’d sent everyone home. I think she knew she was at the end. She didn’t want them there. They respected her wishes. And I was fucking there with her. I saw her take her last breath.”
“Maddox,” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling. “Was Wyle with you?”
He shook his head. “I tried to shield him. Told him to go get his phone and call 911. I tried pounding on her back as she choked in my arms. And when she finally stopped coughing and choking, I attempted CPR. But she was already gone.” Maddox had been there for his mother’s last breath, on Christmas, no less. He’d stepped up for his brother. For his family. But who’d been there for him?
“Maddox, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It was a tough time. I tried to be there for my brother because he was drowning in grief. But he was never the same after she passed. And then I left for Harvard that following year, and we were all still grieving. We’d watched her suffer for so long, and then she was gone.”
“And your father?”
“He stayed away for a while after our mother’s death. Obviously, he attended the funeral, but we didn’t speak to him. I’m sure there has to be some shame there for the way he abandoned her during her dying days. I mean, one would hope he feels something, but I just don’t know. So now, we do the family things we need to do together. He attends the press-worthy events—graduations, weddings for family members—and we all put on fake smiles and act like one united family. He said all the right things to the press to make himself look like the grieving husband after she passed away. Painted himself the victim. But the truth is, my mother loved a cold-blooded asshole, and he isn’t capable of loving anyone back.”
I moved to my feet, and his eyes widened when I walked over to him. I motioned for him to pull his chair back. He didn’t fight it and did as I asked. I sat down on his lap, my arms wrapping around his neck, and I buried my face beneath his jaw.
He didn’t move at first, but he didn’t push me away either. After several minutes, his arms came around me, and one hand tangled in my hair.
We sat like that for several more minutes before he spoke.
“You’re too good, Georgia Reynolds.” He pulled back, and his dark brown gaze searched mine.
“You’re too good, Maddox Lancaster. You just do everything you can to hide it.”
He shook his head. “I’m not pretending to be someone that I’m not, Tink. This is who I am.”
“And who is that?” I asked, my fingers gently tracing the scruff along his jaw.
I wanted this man so fiercely that my body ached for him.
Even when he made me angry, I still wanted him.
“I’m focused on work. And when I’m not working, I’m a pretty selfish guy. I demand a lot from the people around me.” His hand moved to my jaw, and the pad of his thumb traced along my bottom lip. “I don’t do relationships, Tink. You saw me with Heather. That’s as deep as I go.”
“I think you went pretty deep tonight. Tell me about your mom before she got sick. What was she like?” I ran my fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes briefly, letting me know that he was enjoying it.
His dark eyes opened and found mine before he cleared his throat and let out a long breath. “My mom was an amazing person. The absolute best. But life wasn’t fair to her. She got a horrible disease, and she had a piece-of-shit husband. And when Wyle and I would get mad and say shit about him, she would always stop us and say that she felt like their relationship brought her the two greatest gifts.”
“You and your brother,” I whispered.
