He gave a crooked smile. “You would’ve made the trip when you were ready. All I did was give you a little push to make a decision. You’re not a quitter, Nick. You don’t walk away from things simply because they seem too hard.”
I shook my head. “Maybe. But having you by my side, knowing you support me no matter what, that’s the best gift you could have given me. This thing with my mother—it’s defined my whole fucking life. Maybe even more so than my father’s shitty behaviour, at least in terms of my trust. For years, I told myself that Davis was the exception to that. He was my golden ticket to happiness. My once-in-a-lifetime. And then he died, and by some miracleyouwere there. I didn’t believe it. Maybe I didn’t want to. That whole trust thing again. It felt too good to be true, sometimes it still does.”
He frowned at that and I smoothed the furrows of his brow with my fingers.
“But I was wrong,” I amended. “And you... you—” I swallowed hard, not sure I could finish.
Mads drew my face closer to his and peppered it with kisses. “You were there for me too, darlin’. When I’d all but given up on finding someone to share my life with, someone I could love. I wasn’t convinced I could believe in you either. That you weren’t some trick the universe was playing on me. I was sure you’d eventually see me the same way every other boyfriend had. Predictable. Boring. Never quite enough.”
How was that even possible? How could anyone think my Mads wasn’t the most fascinating guy on the planet?
I brushed my nose against his. “Well, we sure showed them, huh? There hasn’t been a boring day in our lives since we first met. In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to a little predictability in the future.”
“You and me both.” Mads wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me against his chest, my cheek resting on his shoulder. “You and me both.”
We stayed that way for a long time, our cocks softening into the tenderness, the fire in our blood banking to warm embers. Then somewhere along the way, Mads’ hips began to circle once again, small movements at first, then harder and more demanding, sending a jolt of want through my balls.
He pressed his lips to my throat, his breath coming in soft gasps, our bodies finding a rhythm. Our rhythm. Mads and me. And as we ground on each other and began to soar, all those decades of anger and resentment started to fall away, the space opening for something new and fragile to grow.
No matter how this thing with my mother turned out, the world became perfectly clear in that moment. I wanted Mads with everything I had. I wanted this complicated man. Ialwayswanted him. Constantly. In a myriad of ways. It’s who I was now, and I could live with that. Iwantedto live with that. But I had to make sure the past didn’t trip me up first.
And so, I took Madigan Church—my beautiful, funny, frustrating, and wonderfully unpredictable man. I took him slowly and tenderly, my body sliding into his until we lay joined as one, rocking and groaning, my heart thrilling with that joy I once thought I’d never feel again.
And when he came on a cry and a single shed tear, I buried myself as deeply as I could and sailed along with him, our bodies jerking and shuddering with every wave of pleasure. And when we were done and lying spent on the rug in front of a dying fire, I tucked him against my side and drew a rug over our naked bodies. He snuggled close, an arm thrown over my chest, his soft cock resting against my thigh. I kissed his head and whispered that I loved him. He hummed and told me the same.
We lay in silence watching the fire dance in each other’s eyes until the last embers sputtered and faded and the bubble of content we’d drawn around us gave an almost audible pop.
Mads sighed and looked up at me. “Back to work?”
I kissed his forehead and nodded. “Back to work.”
We showered and dressed,and while Mads grabbed a couple of fresh beers and a plate of cheese and crackers to share, I began to go through Chloe’s accounts, separating them into piles on the small dining table.
“This is your area of expertise, not mine.” Mads slid into the seat opposite and shifted one of the piles toward him. “What am I looking at?”
I pointed to each pile in sequence. “A savings account with around two thousand. Another with a few hundred. And two large investment accounts.” I tapped each one. “The first holds four hundred and fifty thousand. The second for two hundred and thirty, making a grand total of six hundred and eighty thousand, both coming due in about six months.”
Mads blew a low whistle. “She wasn’t kidding about Brendon squirrelling money away, was she? I guess that’s something. What are those?” He pointed to another two piles sitting in front of me.
“Ah, yes. These.” I grimaced. “What we have here are two credit card accounts. One is maxed out at twenty thousand dollars. The other has a balance of nine and a half, with the limit also set at twenty.”
Mads frowned. “But why would she need—” He stopped and looked at me. “This isn’t good, is it?”
I pulled a face. “No. It’s not looking that way. There was a spending change about the time Austin took control, and I suspect the limits were raised about that time as well. Until then, the statements show Chloe rarely used them. They were likely a hangover from when Brendon was still alive and had been paid off in full every month, whereas now only the minimum is paid to keep the cards active. Automatic payments include those on a Mercedes—” I gave him a pointed look. “—nota Toyota. Utility bills forbothhouseholds, gardening bills, supermarket purchases, and a couple of large cash withdrawals that could’ve gone anywhere.”
A growl surfaced from deep in Mads’ throat. “Shit. Bastard. Do you think Chloe knows?”
I thought about his question. “Austin only has signing rights, which means he can operate her account and make payments, but he can’t actually change the credit card limits. Only Chloe can do that. She would’ve needed to sign an application form, and she said nothing about that to me.”
Mads digested that, a line cutting deep between his eyes. “Then how—” He ran a hand over his mouth, pausing as the possibilities hit him. “Three months, you said?”
I nodded, waiting for him to catch on.
“Around the same time she signed the signatory rights.”
That’s my boy.I nodded again.
Mads cursed. “It would’ve been easy enough to slip an extra piece of paper or two in with the signatory one if he brought them home rather than did it at the bank. Or he could’ve simply asked her and given some pseudo-legitimate reason why he needed it done.” His lips pursed together in a thin line.
