When the worst did happen, when she died, Dad just…checked out. He drank more than he worked, stopped coming home— when he did, it was only to yell or pass out on the couch. That’s when Ford stepped in. He kept us fed, got us to school, made sure we didn’t let our parents’ absence dictate the path of the rest of our lives.
So yeah, I’ve spent most of my life being the one taken care of—not the one doing the taking care of.
Sitting here now, remembering the weight of Madeline’s head against my shoulder, how her breathing evened out when she finally relaxed, I realize that it felt good to be the person she leaned on. The person she trusted. The person who made her feel safe. It’s a small thing, and maybe I shouldn’t let it meanthis much. But I liked the feeling of being the steady one for once.
The wheels hit the runway a few minutes later. When the seatbelt light dings off, half the cabin is immediately on their feet.
Madeline unbuckles and stands, stepping into the narrow aisle. She’s small enough that the guy behind her doesn’t even notice her there until his backpack swings down, fast and careless. I react before I even think, catching it before it clips her shoulder.
“Careful,” I say, handing it back to the guy, who mutters something that doesn’t sound like an apology.
Madeline looks over her shoulder, startled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” I reach up and grab her carry-on, sliding it out from the bin and setting it at her feet.
“You really don’t have to—” she begins tightly.
“I know,” I say, cutting her off mid-protest. “But I’m tall. Might as well put it to use.”
Her lips press together, but she doesn’t argue, and I take it as a win.
As we shuffle down the aisle with everyone else, she walks just ahead of me. I watch her mesmerized by the wave of her hair as it brushes her shoulder. I don’t touch her, but I stay close enough to make sure no one else does either.
It’s just instinct, I tell myself. It’s just a protective habit.Nothing more.
The hotel lobby smells like polished wood and money. Gleaming glass, gold accents, and a water feature that looks like it belongs in an art gallery instead of a reception area.
Madeline’s heels click against the marble floor as she heads toward the front desk, suitcase rolling neatly behind her. I follow, dragging my own bag with a lot less grace.
The woman behind the lobby desk greets us with a smile. “Welcome to the Fairmont Ridge,” she says brightly. “Reservation name?”
“Madeline Ashcroft,” she answers before I can open my mouth. “There will be two rooms with a king size bed in each.”
The woman taps at the keyboard. I watch her expression shift from cheerful to apologetic, and immediately my stomach dips. That’s never good.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Ashcroft,” she says, glancing between us. “It looks like there’s been a mix-up with your reservation. There’s only one room available for the weekend. It, uh…” She hesitates, clearing her throat. “Does have a king size bed though.”
Madeline blinks. “Excuse me?”
“The—” the woman gestures vaguely, cheeks pinking “—it’s the last available room. But it’s one of our nicest. Very spacious. King bed, spa tub, balcony. We would be happy to provide you with complimentary champagne…”
Madeline closes her eyes. “This cannot be happening.”
I bite back a laugh that’s dangerously close to slipping out. “Sounds nice,” I offer, just to see her glare at me, which she immediately does.
“This isn’t funny,” she snaps.
“Oh, I’m not laughing,” I lie smoothly, though my mouth twitches. “Just trying to look on the bright side. She said free champagne.”
Madeline’s eyes narrow, sharp enough to slice through steel. “You’re not drinking it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. All yours.”
She turns back to the woman, her shoulders beginning to droop in resignation. “There’s really nothing else available? Bunk beds, maybe? A janitor’s closet?”
This time I do laugh.
“Unfortunately, no, ma’am. There’s a large political event in town. Everything’s fully booked.”
