“Because I love you, damn it! Why does it have to be a fight for me to love you?”
The silence that follows is deafening.
I didn’t mean to say it like this, but it’s out there now.
It’s the truth, and I’m not taking it back.
Madison swallows hard. Her eyes well up before the tears finally break past the levee.
“I told you,” she whispers. “I told you not to get close to me. I’ll chew you up and spit you out, remember? I’ll forget about you.”
I take a step toward her. Then another. I don’t stop until I’m inches away, until I can smell the soap on her skin.
“Prove it,” I say.
“Beckett—”
“Forget about me right now. Walk past me and go to bed. Tell me you don’t feel the air change when we’re in the same room.”
“I don’t fit the mold,” she sobs, finally letting the tears fall. “I’m not the girl with the easy smile. I’m not the future men like you picture for themselves.”
“Tell me then.” My fingers graze her cheek. “Tell me what this ‘future’ is that I’m supposed to want.”
“I don’t want kids,” she cries out, like it’s a confession. “I told you that. I can’t be a mother whenI’m still trying to survive being a daughter. I don’t want the white picket fence and the minivan.”
“And I told you then: I don’t care. I don’t want a mold, Madison. I wantyou. I want the sarcasm and the noise, and the way you look in those stupid slippers. I want the woman who fights for her mother and the woman who’s too stubborn to ask for help.”
“I’ve been told I’m too much,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine for the lie. “By everyone. It’s always too much.”
I cup her face in both hands, forcing her to see the truth in my eyes.
“Then fuck everyone who said that. You’re not too much. You’re the perfect amount.”
I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers.
“You can’t scare me away with your truth. I’m not going anywhere. You can chew me up all you want, Madi. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”
She lets out a long, broken breath and collapses against me.
“You’re so annoying,” she sobs into my chest.
“I know,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “But I’myourannoying. Get used to it.”
I feel the tension finally snap. It’s not a clean break. It’s a total structural failure as her strength deserts her all at once.
My arms lock around her just before her knees give way. I let us both sink until we’re sitting on the kitchen floor. She’s a tangle of oversized cotton and damp hair with her face buried in the crook of my neck. Her cries are years of perfect daughter performances and masks being ripped away.
I don’t try to shush her or tell her it’s okay, because right now it isn’t. I just hold her. My hand cups theback of her head, pressing her closer until I feel the frantic thrum of her heart against my ribs. I let her grief soak into my shirt until the violent heaving of her shoulders slows to long, shuddering hitches.
She pulls back just enough to draw in a breath. Then, with no warning, she gives my chest a weak shove.
“I really… wanted to fight you on this,” she croaks, her voice a ghost of its usual bite.
“I know you did. Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of fights you’ll win. I’m afraid I just can’t let you win this one.”
Her skin is blotchy, and her eyes are swollen, but when she looks at me, the fire is gone, replaced by nothing but vulnerability. A fresh wave of tears spills over.
“Goddammit,” she chokes out. “I can’t believe I keep crying in front of you.”
