Mistletoe Misses

Chapter 5

Maddox

H oney, can I speak with you for a moment?” Mom asks from the top of the stairs soon after my shower. Since all the upstairs bedrooms are taken, I set up in the basement. It’s mostly unfinished but more comfortable and quieter than most of the places I slept in the Army.

“Sure. Want me to come up?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk in the sunroom. I have a fire and beer ready for you.”

This is great. She’s buttering me up for something. “Be right there.”

Like the dutiful son I am, I finish dressing and trot upstairs, rustling Oliver’s thick, blond curls as I pass the couch. He’s deep into a basketball video game and barely acknowledges me.

Stepping into the sunroom, Mom pats the empty swing cushion beside her. She tosses the blanket she’s using over my legs as I sit and hands me the beer. Mentally preparing myself for whatever she needs to get off her chest, I take a long swig.

“You know we’re having our regular Sunday get together today.”

“I do.”

“It’s grown over the years. It’s not just our immediate family and closest friends anymore.”

I shrug. “That’s fine. Are you worried I won’t be a good host in my Scrooge mood?”

“No. I raised you right.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “I want to give you a heads up about the usual guest list.” Her fingers aid in ticking off the invitees. “Nana, of course, and your aunts and uncles. They’re excited to see you, so I suspect they’ll all come.”

“I’m excited, too.”

She gives me a smile. “All our neighbors are invited. About half come each week and it varies who. That’s the twins’ favorite part because it brings all their friends together—the same experience you had growing up.”

“It was the highlight of my week.” Despite knowing better, I glance across the yard to Carmen’s childhood home. Their backyard connects to ours, giving our get togethers the perfect field for killer wiffle ball games. From playing sports, to lying in the shade of a tree, to making out in every private space we could find, we made plenty of memories on every blade of grass. The constant ache in my chest sharpens, and I drown it with half what’s left of my beer.

“The Bennetts are expected to come.”

Squeezing the bottle to give my rage somewhere to go, I brace for what I know she’s about to say. “Including Carmen.”

I shoot off the swing, sending it into motion, and stalk to the wood stove in the opposite corner. This news, even though I expected it, smacks me harder than I want it to. How will I handle being in the same room with her? Given my reaction to her presence in a dark bar with a sea of tables and people between us, I guarantee, it won’t be good.

Searching for the peace I had before this conversation started, I scan the yard for something to carry my thoughts away. Remnants of snowmen and snow forts created after the last storm dot the yard, reminding me of simpler days. When watching the clouds and wishing for another snow day off from school was my only concern.

“How long is she in town?” I ask, tossing another log into the stove and letting my eyes blur over the new flames.

“She should be the one to answer that.”

“I’m asking you.”

“And I’m telling you this pain you hold, centering around her, will never lessen unless you two talk it out. You’ve avoided it for far too long.”

Irritation rockets through my system, courtesy of my rising blood pressure. “What if I don’t want to talk to her?”

“Your anger isn’t doing you any favors,” she says, shaking her head, and my skin ripples with annoyance. “Talk to her, Maddox. Hear her story and figure out a way to forgive her or get the closure you need to move forward. I will not let you waste this opportunity and continue sulking alone in Boston. I want my son back.”

Her voice wavers, shutting down construction of the wall I’m frantically repairing. First Captain Emory, then Nana, and now Mom. Why can’t I live my life the way I want? Being a cop and brooding alone is where I’m most comfortable. I’m not good at communicating or dealing with my heartache. Because of that, I’ve become a live wire with a short fuse. I’m not proud of it, but it would be in everyone’s best interest, especially Carmen’s, if we don’t have that talk everyone’s so hell-bent on.

Yet, the wobble in her voice makes me say, “Okay.”

But I can’t look at her. I’m already hovering over dangerous territory, and if I see one tear in her eyes, I’ll fall right in. With everyone arriving soon, I guarantee neither of us want to deal with another of my broody outbursts.

Proof of that sentiment comes in the form of comforting arms curling me into a hug, and it’s all I can do to not crumble inside them.

◆◆◆

Leaning against the brick wall in the sunroom where Mom left me to contemplate her unbearable request, I haven’t found a way to force myself to move. Every piece of me wants to lash out at how unfair she’s being. To throw a fist through something satisfyingly breakable, like drywall or glass, and take off, never to return again.

But what would that usual Maddox response get me this time? A disappointed mother (again) and no closer to accomplishing the reason I came here in the first place—to find a way past my anger so I can keep my job. Simply being in Ember Falls is a gigantic leap for me. When I’m ready to jump into the next one, I’ll face the woman whose memory has kept me in a chokehold for years on end, but I’ll do it on my own terms. Mom will just have to accept that.

Away from the evolving activity of arriving guests inside, I decide to stay put until I have a grip on my temper. After my extended absence, everyone is sure to have plenty of questions I can’t answer and impossible expectations to meet in my sour mood. I’m not evading. I’m doing us all a favor.

My vibrating phone has me pushing off the wall, grateful for the distraction. At the first sight of my little brother’s name and his ridiculous texting style, a rainbow of joy peeks through the clouds, filling me with a rare dose of contentment.

Aaron: Dude, you hangin?

Kendall: You sound like a neanderthal. Translation: Are you attending the Sunday dinner, and if so, are you okay?

Me: I’m fine.

Aaron: Don’t believe you.

Kendall: Can I give you some advice?

Aaron: Good Lord.

Me: If you say talk to Carmen, I’m turning off my phone.

Kendall: Definitely not. I was thinking you should let her come to you if she has the balls to do it. If not, you know you dodged a bullet and she’s not worth the head space you give her. If she does, you can decide if you’re ready. If you’re not, tell her you need more time. If she cares for you at all, she’ll give it happily, and you’ll have another answer without having to ask.

Aaron: Damn, that’s a lot of ifs.

Kendall: Zip it, A.

Cooper: Great advice.

Aaron: Coop! Bout time you showed up.

Cooper: Been a little busy defending the country and shit.

Kendall : You’re the best!

Cooper: Thanks, Ken.

Cooper: Do what you want, Madds. You don’t owe her anything.

Me: Part of me is curious what she’ll say. The other wants to keep running in the opposite direction.

Cooper: You can’t do both. Want my advice?

Me: I thought you said do what I want.

Cooper: Gut reaction. Got better advice.

Me: What is it?

Cooper: There’s nothing she can say to change what she did, but only you can change how you live with it. You haven’t been doing a very good job of that, and we all know you’re miserable.

Aaron: Damn, that was way better than whatever Ken said. I’m still processing it …

Kendall: Shut up. You can do this, Maddox. We love you.

◆◆◆

I’ve never seen this many people in the house before. The living room, kitchen, dining room, and sunroom are full of blood and found family. Long-time neighbors I’m just now meeting, aunts and uncles I haven’t seen since the funeral, and kids of all ages, running in and out to get food or to play.

Carmen hasn’t arrived yet, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Maybe she decided against attending, knowing I’d be here, or maybe she’s simply running late.

A couple from down the street, turn from me to their fussy toddler, and that’s when I see Sadie enter the living room. Curious, since Mom hadn’t mentioned her coming, I cross to her.

“Hi, Queenie,” I greet, making her giggle.

“Sweetie!”

I laugh at the sarcastic, rhyming nickname and revel at her cleverness. “What are you doing here?”

“I come every week,” she says, her little arms circling my neck before I realize how much I needed the generous gift.

“You do? With your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is she? I’d love to meet her.”

“Be right back,” she yells already halfway across the room, her mission clear.

I feel Mom watching me from the couch with concern, and I have no idea why. This is the best I’ve felt since our conversation, and I have one little girl to thank for—

Sadie re-enters the room, pulling Carmen by the hand toward me, and I swear my heart stops. The room noise blurs as my body refuses to pump blood and oxygen to vital organs.

Carmen is Sadie’s mother? The same Carmen who didn’t want children. The one who left me for the single life in L.A. Who’s Sadie’s father? A vision of Carmen in another man’s arms sends a shockwave through my tattered soul, and I can’t decide which hurts more—knowing Carmen started a family with someone else or that she didn’t want one with me.

Someone calling my name nearby echoes in my head like a baseball bat hitting a metal pipe. Each syllable bangs and ricochets off my skull until the pain it creates is all I feel. My body revolts, sending both chills and fire down my spine.

Self-preservation instincts take over my body because I can’t think. The only thing populating is that staying here isn’t an option. I can’t stand before her and everyone and pretend her presence isn’t a knife in the back, another scar on my heart, or acid on my soul.

The living room recliner, kitchen counter, and last doorframe before my escape, support my weight until I stumble outside. The cold air slaps against my face, feeling closer to a spa facial in comparison to what the news I learned inside did to me.

“Maddox.”

“Not now, Mom.” With my hands on my thighs, propping me up, I gulp for something to fill me—air for my empty lungs, sanity, the bravery I once possessed.

“Maddox, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.” Her hand falls onto my back, and I shake it off like a sullen teenager.

“Why didn’t you? Why didn’t anyone in our family give me the slightest heads up?” This is not inconsequential news, yet I received no warning text or call and not one hey Maddox, that girl who ruined your life has some shocking news… conversation. In their defense, I had adamantly refused to listen anytime her name came up. I’d cut off and shut out anyone who brought her up, and after a while, they stopped. Still, they knew hearing about Sadie would kill me and should have tried harder.

That has my system rebooting into status quo mode—downright pissed—and I put some distance between us. It’s safer for her that way. Fury is the only emotion I can process in the storm Carmen’s surprise created.

“I never expected you would meet Sadie before Carmen could tell you herself. Nana didn’t know you two had met either. Either way, it’s not our place to tell you.”

“I disagree.” Glancing over the yard, now covered in a fresh layer of snow, my breath materializes between large, floating flakes, but I don’t feel the cold. As if my body is shutting down from shock, I don’t feel anything at all. “I guess this means she moved back.”

“She did.”

“When?”

Ice crunches under her shoes as she steps closer. “Maddox …”

“When, Mom?”

“About four years ago.”

“I need to go.” I stalk off in the direction I’m facing with no plan, no coat, and no patience left.

“Where are you going?”

Ignoring her, I continue through the neighbor’s yard to the adjacent street with only my rage to keep me warm. When the road dead-ends, I collapse to the curb and grip my pounding head with both hands. There’s not enough hair to take my frustrations out on, so I snatch up a piece of gravel and sail it down the street.

Scar tissue from a season-ending pitching injury my senior year rips in my elbow, providing something else to focus on. The physical pain feels better than the misery and disappointment I had walking here like a zombie. Snatching up a handful of pellets, I shoot to my feet. One after another, I pitch to no target, each rock representing something I can’t control, until I’m sweating and breathless.

When the last rock disappears into the snowflakes, I collapse onto the curb, my forearms perched on top of my knees while I initiate the calming techniques I learned in yoga class. The Patrol Unit liked to grumble about Captain Emory requiring us take up yoga, forcing us to attend class regularly, but the breathing techniques came in handy during emergent situations. But this is nothing like a car chase, barricaded suspect, or robbery in progress. It’s my worst nightmare coming true, and neither my beloved baseball nor yoga can stop the—

“Maddox?”

My gaze cuts to Carmen standing a safe distance away, her arms folded across her body against the cold. How long had she been watching?

“Please come inside.” The nervous shake in her voice does not go unnoticed, and I find a little comfort in knowing this ambush isn’t easy for her. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Please?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Instead of walking away as my harsh tone advises, she stomps forward with determination and sits on the curb beside me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, letting out my frustration for the unwelcome intrusion with a sigh.

She wiggles her hands into leather gloves before answering. “Since you won’t come in, I’m preparing to shiver my way through this conversation.”

We’ll see how long that lasts. I can be very stubborn. Not ready to reconcile the girl I once knew with the woman she became in my absence, I turn away. “Did Mom put you up to this?”

“No. I’m as ready for this as you are, but—”

My disdain materializes into a puff of white air. “I doubt it.”

“Fair enough.” Her hands fly up, then fall into her lap. “But I’m hoping the boy I once knew is inside you and willing to give me a few minutes to explain.”

I glance out over the snow-covered street, begging for a distraction. Her familiar scent, the feel of her warmth leaking through my thin layers, the melodic sound of her voice—it’s more than my sputtering system can absorb and comprehend. Being this close to her once filled me with contentment. I lived and breathed for her before she stripped my life of meaning without warning.

Thinking about the days and weeks that followed without her still haunts me as if it happened yesterday. I forced myself through those final five months of school, barely earning passing grades, before graduating and giving my body to my country. I didn’t care if I survived each mission, and the brothers I gained in the Army are the only reason I did.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

A broken chuckle leaks out of me without permission. “No, you really don’t.”

“You’re wondering about Sadie after what I said to you that night.”

I turn on her. “I can’t believe you have a kid.” And she’s not mine . “You gave up your career for her.” But not for me.

“That’s the thousand-foot view.”

“Who’s her father?”

“I don’t know.”

“Excuse me?” Struck speechless, I glare at her, and she holds her ground with that unfathomable strength I once admired. But I don’t want a reason to admire her. I’d much prefer to stay burning with fury, so I can stop wishing she’d chosen me for that life-changing moment instead of some absentee stranger.

“Sadie isn’t mine, Maddox. Well, she is in every way that matters, but I didn’t give birth to her.”

Relief courses through my veins, but it doesn’t erase all the images of her with another man my imagination sent through my brain like a highlight reel.

“Soon after I arrived in L.A., I met Charlotte,” she continues through my silence. “We were the same age with similar hair, skin tone, and eye color. At every audition opportunity that needed an actor who looked like us, we showed up and helped each other through the grueling process. We grew close and eventually became roommates.” She takes a deep breath. “But we didn’t always run in the same circles, and trouble seemed to find her. She wanted to keep Sadie safe and stayed away from the source as much as she could. It didn’t last, and she didn’t have family to help her. She asked me to be Sadie’s guardian if anything happened, and on Sadie’s first birthday, she wrote up the necessary paperwork. She died in a car crash three years later.”

“That’s when you came back to Ember Falls?”

She nods. “I didn’t know how to raise a child. I needed help.”

“What about your dreams?”

“With Sadie counting on me, I guess I made new ones.”

“Like what?” I ask, despite my efforts not to.

“Giving her an incredible childhood like I had and endless opportunities to chase her own dreams.”

“She’s an amazing kid. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

She grins, pride in her daughter shining through the awkwardness between us. “It was a team effort. My parents, this crazy town, Nana. Everyone here played a part and deserves credit.” Her tentative gaze lifts to mine. “She adores you.”

“Didn’t start out that way.”

“Sometimes she’s too smart for her own good. It’s why she struggles to make friends with kids her age.”

A breeze tosses a tuft of snow in our direction, and I notice her shivering. I’d prefer not to care, but I can’t help myself.

“You should go back. It’s only going to get colder out here with the sun going down,” I urge, wondering if she’ll take advantage of the escape route or stay.

“After all this time, Maddox, we’re finally talking. I’m not going anywhere until you make me.”

Her eyes hold my gaze with determination, and I let myself get lost in them. Every adult version of her I tried desperately not to create in my mind through the years, pales in comparison to the real one.

The thick, golden waves of her hair I used to thread my fingers through seem more inviting covered fresh snowflakes. She’d gained a few new freckles over the years, and a subtle line bracketing her mouth. I used to spend hours staring at those lips, and they’re the same gentle shade of pink. While she sang or told me about her day, my teenage hormones would draw my attention there and conjure up all kinds of ways I could kiss her. A problem resurfacing now despite all the negativity and despair swirling inside me.

A snowflake lands on her lashes, but she doesn’t break eye contact. My fingers itch for the chance to brush it away. To cup her face and see if her skin feels as velvety soft as I remember, but I don’t dare move. It’s too risky. I don’t trust either of us with my heart.

“We should go in,” I say to keep from doing something I’ll regret. Standing, I wait for her to do the same.

Unmoving, she stares up at me. “I know I have no right to ask this, but can we do this again? Will you allow another opportunity for us to talk?”

“Carmen …” The eyes that used to have the power to make me do anything she commanded are boring straight through to my tattered soul.

“You don’t have to make any promises. I’m just asking for more time to do this again while you’re here.”

“We’ll see.” It isn’t what she wants to hear, but it’s all I can give. “Come on. I need a drink.”