And, as much as it pained me, I didn’t regret it.
21
Maddox
Two weeks later
I fed him another small spoonful. He accepted it weakly, chewing as if it took all his strength to do such a small act. He lost all his hair in three weeks. Lost all his weight, until he was skin and bones. Ghastly pale and wrinkled. His cheeks were drawn in, and his eyes had lost their vibrant colors – a hollow look in them.
Brad Coulter was frail, almost too weak, to even sit up straight and have his own meal. In three weeks, his health deteriorated, until he needed a wheelchair to move around, and one of us to feed him, help him in and out of bed. Taking his bath, alone, became out of the question, when he passed out in the tub a week ago.
Frail. Sick. Dying.
My mother refused to bring a nurse home. She was adamant about taking care of her husband herself, but she grew weary, as the days passed, so I was forced to jump in and help.
If you asked me why I dropped out of this academic year and moved in with my parents, awaiting my father’s death – I didn’t have an answer.
I didn’t want anything to do with my father or my mother – but here I was.
Taking care of them, as a dutiful son. That was what Lila wanted, after all. She told me I’d regret it later, if I didn’t spend these last days with my father. Maybe she was right, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know shit.
All I knew was that the thought of my father dying left a heavy, hollow ache in my chest. I didn’t like it one bit, but it was what drove me here.
Back into the very mansion that I spent my childhood in, lonely, scared… unloved.
My father coughed, and I quickly dabbed the corner of his mouth. He accepted another spoonful, before he shook his head, indicating that he had enough. I placed the half full bowl on the table. He was eating less and less every day.
My mother stood up with a weary sigh. She rubbed her forehead, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Do you mind helping your father to bed? There are a few documents I have to read.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Brad gave me a small, tired smile. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Except, Lila was going to look at me with disappointment in her eyes, if I didn’t.
And maybe I was doing it for… myself.
“C’mon, old man. Time for your beauty sleep.” I pushed his wheelchair into the guest bedroom downstairs. I helped him out of his wheelchair and into the bed, tucking the comforter around his shoulders.
“Maddox,” he said, his voice small and breathy. “I know I never said it before, but I am… I am… proud of you, Son.”
I froze, and my stomach twisted, shock coursing through my veins. My fists started to shake, and the thick vein in my neck pulsed. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, almost too loud.
I shook my head once. “Too late,” I said, smiling acidly.
Brad nodded, as if he knew that would be my response. He knew he fucked up. “Your high school graduation… your mother and I were there.”
“No,” I hissed. “You weren’t.”
His smile was forlorn. “We were. We saw you with Lila and her family and your friends.”
Fuck that. He was messing with my head now.
“Why didn’t approach me?”
“And ruin your special day?”
He had a point. I just didn’t understand him… why?
“You were so stubborn, Maddox. Still are. We lost so many years. You were eighteen, and I didn’t know to approach my son. How to talk to you, how to be a father again. I didn’t know… how. My relationship with you was beyond repair, and I didn’t know where to start.”
I seethed, even when my lungs clenched and refused to let me breathe. “And so you took the easy way out, instead of trying?”
“My way of trying was to make sure you never give up… I know I was hard on you. Too hard. But I was pushing you, because I worried, you’d either drop out of school or you’d ruin your life. One way or another.”
He sighed, and his chest rattled. Breathing – a simple act, something that is second nature to humans – he struggled with it. “Remember the last time you walked out of my office. I had warned you not to hurt Lila… because you’d hurt yourself. I said you were on the path of self-destruction because I knew. I knew about the Carmichaels. I knew you were keeping it secret, and I… warned… you.”
My back shot up straight, and I glared down at my father. “How did you know?”
His lips crooked on the side, a grin that reminded me of my own. A signature Coulter’s smirk. “You were digging into her past, and you weren’t as careful as you thought you were. Maddox, you forget, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Of course, I knew.”
Goddamn it.
His eyes closed, and he sighed again. “I’m sorry I never said I was proud of you.” His voice grew weaker, until he was whispering those words.
“Too late,” I said. But this time, there was less anger, less heat.
There had been too much toxicity between us. Too much hatred, too much frustration and a whole lot of negativity. Our misunderstandings grew every year, and it pulled us apart, further and further away from each other.
It took my father to be on his deathbed for us to try and fix this, whatever was left of this father and son relationship. And trust me, there wasn’t much left.
After making sure he was tucked in comfortably, I turned off the lights. “Good night.”
He mumbled something incorrigible in return.
Numb and mentally exhausted, I stumbled into my bedroom. Turning my neck left and right, I tried to release the tension there. My skin prickled with something fierce, too many emotions, rattling inside of me.
I tugged my shirt over my head and discarded the rest of my clothes on my bathroom’s floor, before stepping into the shower.
I stood under the spray for a long minute, and with my forehead against the shower wall, I squeezed my eyes shut. What the hell was I really doing? Here, in this sterile place, that reminded me of nothing but how ugly my relationship with my parents was.
They have been trying, slowly opening up to me. We’ve had all meals together, had a movie night every night – fuck – my mother even baked my favorite carrot cake. The last time I had my mother’s carrot cake was on my seventh birthday.
Shit. Fixing our relationship wasn’t an easy task, when we had a time limit. If only Lila was here…
No. No. Fuck, NO!
My hand landed beside my head, and I slapped the wall. She was the last person I wanted to think about, right now, but damn it, she was everywhere. In my head, in my every thought, in my dreams.
I tried burning that stupid dreamcatcher, but it felt like I had torn out a piece of my heart. My left hand was still sore from the burn it took, when I saved that damn necklace from the fire.
The mere thought of her drove me crazy, an insane desperation for her. I quickly soaped up my body, angrily rubbing my skin, until it itched and burned. Now that Lila had made her way back into my head, I couldn’t stop thinking of her.
Her voice.
Her brown eyes.
Her sweet fucking smile. Her mischievous smirk.