“You’ll let me know if you see him? Tell him I’m worried?”
“Of course. Have you seen your mother? I know she’s been missing you.”
“I’ve been so bad at staying in touch.” It wasn’t just friends I’d neglected in my sorrowful moods.
“Don’t you worry about that right now. One thing at a time.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
Sadness followed me on the short and oh-so-familiar walk over the green to the house I called home. That short distance was enough time for a mass of storm clouds to brew inside my chest. Fuelled by doubt and confusion, heartache and fear, I was ready to burst by the time I walked up to the door.
I knocked on the door to my old home. It was ridiculous—I still had my key, but over the past few months, I’d barely seen Mum. She opened the door and looked at me with her warm and caring eyes, and the storm broke. I broke.
“Oh, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” She stepped out and wrapped me up in her arms, offering me the comfort I’d lost over the last few weeks. I clung to her, desperate to unload all my pain onto the one person who’d always looked out for me. “Come on inside, we can talk,” she whispered against my head as she smoothed my hair down my back.
She held me up as we walked into the house, and I dropped down onto the sofa and fell into her, letting the sobs bubble free and break from my chest. All she did was gently rock me back and forth until all the tears were cried.
My lips were dry and cracked, my nose stuffy and blocked and my eyes were so puffy I couldn’t open them fully. It was the first time I’d ever cried like this—big, ugly teardrops that came from deep within me rather than superficial tears that released only a fraction of the emotion inside.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s the matter?” She slowly released me, her arms still in contact with my body in case I needed the continued reassurance.
“It’s Maddison. We had a fight.”
She squeezed my hand. “Darling, couples fight. It’s not unusual.”
“I know, but it’s got really bad, Mum. And I don’t know what to do.” It was a mess, and I didn’t know how I felt, not really, because I still loved him. But I couldn’t continue to be with him if things stayed like this. In what world did he think he could just up and leave for days? He promised he’d never leave, and then this?
“I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out.”
“He’s mixed up in some stuff that’s not good for him. He’s not the same person anymore. He won’t listen to me.”
“Drugs?” Mum pulled away and sounded scared.
“No. Fights. He’s part of some circle of fighting. I’ve only been a few times, but I hate it, and I hate that he does it.”
Mum turned to me, the earlier compassion replaced with a serious tone. “Baby, listen to me. This is serious. You can’t go to another one of these fights, okay? They are no good. Take it from me.”
“I know. I remember what you told me about my father.” I knew this must have been hard for her to hear.
“I waited too long to leave. I should have never put you in harm’s way, and I’ve been running from that misstep since. Don’t make the same mistakes as I did,” she pleaded, my hands in hers and tears threatening to drop from her lashes. “You might not think it’s too late, but if you’re like this? This upset already…” she shook her head and pulled me into her embrace again.
I hadn’t made the obvious connection—that Maddison was acting just like my father had. I’d been so wrapped up in the romance that I’d forgotten that I’d been following in my mum’s footsteps.
“I think it’s time for me to share something else with you.”
Mum got up and disappeared for a few moments. She came back with a shoebox and handed it to me. At the bottom were a handful of letters. I’d never wanted to know about my dad. I accepted what my mum told me about him and never spent too much time wondering, but now there was a connection to him, sitting right there, it started me thinking.
“Are these from my father?” I picked up the first one, and I recognised the handwriting.
“No. They’re from Oliver.”
Chapter 23
Grace 21 Years Old
The box of letters stared at me from across my bedroom. I’d not opened them since leaving Mum’s because I was terrified of what they would say. I’d pushed Oliver from my mind and sealed off the part of my heart that he’d stolen when we were kids, in order to have my happily ever after.
Except there was nothing happy about where I currently was.
Both Vivien and Mum had given me so much to consider. I had to wrestle myself from Mum’s grasp. Having found out that Maddison was walking down the same path as my father, she was less than happy about letting me go home. But this was my relationship and my feelings to unravel and work through. However, I needed Maddison to be a part of this, and right now, I had no idea where he was or if he was even okay.
I must have fallen asleep curled up on the bed, but the crashing and banging woke me with a start. I peeked out of the door and saw a shadow in the bathroom.
“Maddison?” I called, before stepping out and approaching. “Are you okay?” But as soon as I looked into the bathroom, I saw he wasn’t.
“Oh, god, Mads. What happened?” His back displayed a rainbow of bruising across one shoulder and ribs. And as he turned towards me, it didn’t get better. His swollen eye complemented the dried blood that had stained his lips red. He looked a mess.
“Nothing. Don’t worry.”
“Hey, stop shutting me out. It’s been days, and you show up like this?”
“I’m surprised you’re concerned.”
“Please, Mads. Don’t be like this. Let me help you.”
He dropped his arms from the small cabinet where we keep the essential medical supplies. I forced him to sit on the edge of the bath while I ran some hot water and pulled out the antibacterial cream and plasters. “I’ll go and grab some ice.”
When I was out of sight, my lungs exhaled the breath I was holding onto. I didn’t even want to think about what he’d been doing these last few days. So, I focused on the problem instead. I smashed the ice cubes from the tray in the freezer and wrapped them in a cloth. Fortifying myself, I took two steadying breaths and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I plastered on a brave face and walked back into the bathroom. Maddison hadn’t moved.
“Why don’t you take a seat in your room. The bathroom is barely big enough for you on your own.”
He sulked past me, and I gathered the few things I had on hand that could help. I followed him in, and he took a seat at the end of the bed.
“Stay still while I clean you up.” I pushed his hair back from his face. With a damp cloth, I dabbed at the cut across his lip and nose where all the blood remained —rinsing and repeating until he was just sporting the bruising beneath.
His eyes watched me intently as I worked, and it built a tension between us that made me nervous—like he was scrutinising me. But I kept going, focusing on what I was doing. The cream was next before I stepped around him and held the ice to his shoulder.