I waved him off, sipping at my latte. Unfortunately, it soured as soon as it hit my tongue. Something about overwhelming senses had me uneasy.
“I’ll get to that.” Closing my eyes, I thought of Donnie’s stupid and boastful face, when I’d asked him about the pilot and how he lied to my face.
“I had been looking into your parents’ deaths for years,” I let out, my shaky breath heavy. My mug felt like it weighed too much, so I set it down. My hands shook a little. It wasn’t easy, knowing I had a man killed, let alone a man who deserved it.
Madden nodded and that almost distant look started rising. His parents, even now, were a sore subject. He wanted more time with them and I wish I could give him that time. Not having them destroyed him little by little, but I knew he was healing, I witnessed it every day.
“The pilot who was hired the day of the flight, he wasn’t even a certified pilot.”
Madden’s features hardened; the vein that always protruded from his head seemed to pulse now. His eyes narrowed, not at me, but my words. The truths and realizations were etched in the wrinkle between his eyebrows and the frown marring his pouting lips.
“He was hired that day. By Donnie. Got a million-dollar payload too.”
“That’s why Donnie didn’t take their flight,” Madden started, his words a hiss. “He told Dad he was too hungover and couldn’t imagine flying home early with him. He’d be staying until he felt better.”
I nodded, thinking of how Donnie painted this story of luck, and thanked his upset stomach and migraine. The man was a sick bastard.
“I visited Celine, asked her about everything. She was a mess,” I explained, seeing the disgust on Madden’s face. For years, he resented her, knowing she was at least part of the reason Dox cheated. “She explained a lot. Let me know about the pilot’s lack of flying experience and that the failure was because of his inexperience.”
Madden’s eyes dripped, the sorrow in each tear streaking down his face like little crystals of agony. He didn’t shake or sob like all the times in the past. He didn’t move or express anything. His face was mostly empty. A sad shell of himself as he cried silently.
Not knowing if I was allowed to touch him, I tapped his chest. As if that little knock was enough to break whatever scary place he hid, he pulled me to his chest.
We sat there, silent, both crying in our own grief as we thought of our losses. Losing Dox and Harley hurt in such a profound way. Even knowing that Madden and I probably wouldn’t be together if they hadn’t passed, I’d want them here for him.
Selfishly, the little part of me that didn’t ever want Madden without me was grateful they were gone. Even if it brought him sadness. Because he was mine now. He was the father of our child, and he would be mine forever.
Selfish or not, moral or not, I couldn’t give him up.
Not even if he needed it to heal.
“He killed them, so I called Gisetti Grim and had it handled.”
His eyes widened. It wasn’t news that Gisetti Grim was an Italian hitwoman for some weird secret society—well, not news to Madden, me, and anyone else in the one percent. To top it off, she recently got married to an Irish mobster, they were absolute destruction.
“I’d say I’m upset, but I’m not sure what this emotion is inside me,” he started, tapping his chest, and I peered up at him, his face full of a myriad of things.
Sadness.
Hope.
Hate.
Love.
Abandonment.
That last one resonated with the quiver, the little frown lines in his forehead, the tears still streaming. It reminded me of the kid he never got to be. Like me, he was forced to become an adult before he was taught anything.
He didn’t live.
He drowned.
“I love you,” he admitted on an exhale, gripping my jaw. Our lips connected soon after and the taste of forgiveness and acceptance came in waves. Whenever our skin connected, when he willingly reached for me, everything zapped, feeling raw and important. Pulling apart, gratitude flashed in his expression.
“I love you too,” I promised. Much more than those words, I promised a lifetime of choosing him, us, and always staying by his side.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Ven a Mi – Andrea Bocelli & Matteo Bocelli
Madden
For the last few weeks, she’d been acting odd. Not wanting to eat certain things, wanting to fuck more, and we still hadn’t finished what we started when she told me about Donnie.
The fact that he played the biggest hand in their deaths brought so much hatred to the surface. I thought my parents’ deaths had been long buried in my heart, but knowing it wasn’t an accident, confirming what I always wondered, it hurt.
Now, Andy made me anxious with her avoidance of me. Every day, she’s been super busy, hiding. It’s nearly Christmas and for years, I hated this holiday.
I hated being a part of this sadness, this agony of loneliness.
Now that Andy was back, nothing about it would bother me. If anything, it made me feel cherished, connected, in a way that I wasn’t before.
Dialing Carson, I asked my best friend what the hell was up with Andy.
“Mads?” he answered in a question like I should be doing anything but calling. Which was valid. Our tour ended around Halloween. We went across the US and ended in Florida. I fired Candy as soon as it ended, parting ways forever. Our new management team was amazing, handling everything we needed and not bothering my woman.
Our last day on tour was the day that I asked Andy to marry me on stage and she said yes. She’d been performing with me every time I did Never Afters, and sometimes on other sets. It was everything I was missing and didn’t realize.
One day
Our souls were tarnished
One day!
We left you behind
One day
We were gone and forgotten
One day!
We were lost and broken
How did you forget us?
How did we move on?
One day!
I felt the life leave my fingertips
Caressed the blood underneath my eyes
Killing you was my last goodbye
I sang, my voice breaking at the last lyric, thinking of the time I slit my wrists to the point of hospitalization.
The chords stopped, the drums hitting that final beat, and then the lights went out. Part of my soul stayed on the stage, one part stayed on the floor of that bathroom in New York, one part withered away in the hospital.
I survived but at what cost?
The curtains were drawn and all I could think about was that almost-day. I almost lost my chance of being with Andy. I almost lost all the kisses we’ve shared. I almost lost the way she erased the ick with her awe.
The sounds around us erupted, a maelstrom of love and admiration. The crowd screamed for an encore. They yelled, their voices repeating.
“Encore!”
“Encore!”
“Encore!”
The guys looked at me, knowing this crowd had been the loudest, most supportive, the best final show. It was time. I tapped the ring I’d been carrying in my breast pocket of my band jacket for the last month. I used it as a good luck trinket, the thing I rubbed when worry rose and reassurance was needed.
I touched it now, looking at them.
They nodded, knowing we’d do one more song.