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Here? Icouldhave said no. Icouldhave walked away. But I didn't.
I'm more selfish than I admit and, what's worse, is that I'm ignorant of the fact I do it until after. I just blindly keep stepping into these situations as though I've forgotten how shit it feels to have somebody that I care about disappointed in me.
"Well," Maddie sighs when I fail to answer her; elbows popped out, and hands braced on her knees. "That was unexpected." Her gaze is unfocused and far away, directed at the floor.
I study her for a moment, read the cues, and double-check I'm not dreaming things. "You're not mad?"
“Of course, I’m fuckin’ mad!”
Yep—dreaming things.
"I mean..." She blows out a breath that ruffles her fringe. "It's kind of gross. And I guess I'm confused?" she says, voice rising at the end to echo her meaning. "Like, when did this come about? And how?"
"They agreed to it last night," I answer, choosing to skip the details. "But I guess there was something there between me and Digger since he came to get me that first day."
She cocks an eyebrow. "And my dad?"
I shrug. "That was a surprise for me, too."
"But you're not like," she winds her hand between us, "weirded out by their age or anything."
"Is that fucked up of me?" I blurt. "Because I feel like it's fucked up, and I don't want to mess things up around here or insult anyone, or?—“
"It's fucked up," she affirms. "I mean, it's, like I said, a bit weird. But you're all adults, I guess." She mutters, more to herself than for my benefit, “Not like anyone gives a shit what I think, anyway.” Her sigh punctuates the air.
“I do.”
She lifts her gaze, reluctance clear in the firm slash of her row. Reluctance to believe me, forgive me, or even understand me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“But you’re not. Are you?”
I wilt under the intensity of her stare. She’s right—I’m not sorry. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done it. Any of it. I’m just sorry she doesn’t like it. “Digger makes me feel like I never have, Mads. Like I’m okay as I am. As though he doesn’t want to change a thing about me.”
“And my Dad?” she croaks, eyebrows peaked.
WhatdoesTyke make me feel? I glance at the wall as though able to see him through it, out there in the yard. “He makes me feel safe. Like nothing bad will ever touch me again.”
“Jesus, Rae.” She exclaims. “He makesmefeel safe, but you don’t see me wantin’ to go and fuck my daddy, do you?” Maddie expels a heavy breath, toe tapping a frantic rhythm on the floor. “I mean, if you ask me, maybe you’ve got something with Digger. But my father?” She cringes. “It’s kind of like Stockholm syndrome, you know? You’re just stuck here, and he’s the captor—the guy in charge. The big, bad man making you crave his control.”
She’s so fucking right it hurts, but I don’t think it’s a confused infatuation. I do crave his control, but I do it from a place of peace, not fear or panic. I don’t need him to control the situation because I can’t; I need him to because I like how it feels to give that up to someone.
Someone I trust.
Maddie’s eyebrows inch toward her hairline. "I just... I guess I need to get right with the whole thing, you know? I feel something about the idea, but I can't really place a name to it."
"Betrayed?" I bite my bottom lip, breath held in my lungs.
Her gaze softens. "Maybe." She shrugs. "Like I said, I need to let it all sink in."
"Your dad asked if you could search him out after we'd talked, but—“ I thumb toward the yard “—I guess he's busy at the minute."
"Should probably go see what's happenin', hey?" she rises from the stool, waiting for me to do the same.
I push off the chair and tuck my hands in the back pocket of my jeans. I feel as though I should say something here, and the only thing that feels right is, "If it's too much, tell me, Maddie. I don't want to do anything that jeopardizes my friendship with you."
She smiles. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”
