Page 83 of Rising Star

“Maddie. Stop with the nonsense. You belong here. Unless going back to Nashville is really what you desire. Be honest with yourself. And me. If the words you spoke after you came back were true, then you’ll stay here, and we’ll find a way to make it work. Together. I’m not giving up on us. On you. And neither should you.”

She turned her face away, making sure I wouldn’t be able to read the expression spreading over her tear-streaked face.

Her body got rigid against mine. I could feel her drifting away.

I continued, hoping my words could reach her heart. And she would reconsider fleeing away. “You said yourself you were miserable on your own. And now that I got you back and we finally have a real chance to be together, when I’m ready to go all in, you wanna ditch me? You wanna ditch us? I understand your anger. I do. Remember, I myself was angry for a long time. I kinda get the feeling. One thing I can tell you is that it will all get better. Maybe not today or in a week. But one day you’ll wake up, and the pain would have faded away. One day, you’ll wake up from the nightmare you think defines your life and be a stronger person. You’ll see how far you’ve come and realize failing wasn’t an option, and getting better was supposed to happen all along.”

She relaxed a bit against me, so I kept going.

“When you’re upset or feel like you can’t put in the effort anymore because it’s just too much, don’t keep it all inside. Don’t let the hard times overwhelm the good ones. Believe me, even the challenges we think we’ll lose are worth fighting for in the end. I’m the perfect example. If I had thrown my life away two years ago when I was bathing in permanent darkness, I wouldn’t be here today. And I wouldn’t have found you. You can be mad all you want, but open up to me when it gets too tough.”

She snorted without conviction.

“If you wanna go back to Nashville, I won’t stop you. But if there’s a part of you, even a tiny slice, that believes we should be together, that your place is on this tour, with us, then let it speak up.” I paused, letting my words reach her heart. And the analytical part of her brain. “Whatever you decide, talk to me. I’m right here and not going anywhere. If you leave, I think I deserve some explanation first.”

Madison ignored me for the longest time, her shoulders heaving, until the fight left her, and she sunk into me.

I combed her hair back with my fingers. “Maddie. No one said it would be easy. But it will be worth it,” I repeated. “I swear.”

She sniffled, still not looking at me.

“When you came into my life, I was mad most of the time. With your selfless heart and contagious optimism, you pierced my stony heart. Your kindness seeped through the cracks, and it healed my broken self. And you never faltered when I was being a jerk and held your head up and argued when I was being wrong. This time around, you are the one who requires someone in your corner. To help you get back out there. And thrive. And kick asses. Because the Madison Prescott I know wouldn’t let some bump on the road set her back. She’d get up and wrestle the shit out of it.”

When she spoke, her voice had lost all conviction. And warmth. “Sam, I’m just tired of the fight. Of the pain. I’ve been fighting all my life. From the day I was born. I struggled while growing up. Nightmares. Making friends. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Maddie, what happened to you? I’m not a pushy guy, but I gotta know. Please confide in me.”

She buried her face in her hands.

I said nothing, wishing she’d let the walls crumble once and for all.

Swallowing the pebbles growing down my throat and disrupting my normal breathing, I asked, unable to hide the alarm rising in my voice, “Did someone hurt you?”

Her gaze returned to mine, and she shook her head. “No. Not like that. I swear.”

Relief washed over me. “Then what?”

Madison inhaled and wiped the traces of her meltdown with the hem of her T-shirt. “Remember that time I told you I’d been neglected?”

“Yes. I met your parents when you were in the hospital. We even had lunch together one day. They’re nice people, and they love you. That much was evident. I can’t imagine them being careless with you as a child.”

“Emily and I were adopted. When we were five and three. Our biological parents didn’t care for us. I spent days in my dirty diaper when I was a baby. I only learned about it because it was written in our file, and our real parents, the ones who raised and loved us, told us much later. The ones who conceived us forgot to feed us or would disappear for a day or two, chasing their next high. Or their youth. Ems took care of me. She was just a baby herself, but she made sure I had food to eat and rocked me to sleep every night. She protected me. Sacrificed her own needs to fulfill mine.”

She fidgeted with her hands, keeping her gaze down.

I remained silent to not disturb the story of her childhood.

“One day, I fell and broke my wrist. She dressed me up in dirty clothes because that was all we had, and we walked a mile to get to the next house. Our neighbors had never heard of us. We lived in a rural area, and we hadn’t ventured outside before that day. Our parents never took us anywhere with them. The neighbor called the cops, and paramedics to care for my arm, then fed us, and cleaned us up. One day, in therapy, they showed us pictures she had taken that day. It was terrible. We were skin and bones, with disheveled hair and ghostly complexion. Not what kids that age should’ve looked like.”

I turned her hand over and threaded our fingers.

“The first family who fostered us—it was a temporary placement—forced me to sleep on the floor after I peed the bed twice. They said they were paid to foster a kid, not a dog. Ems says I was crying all the time, and they wouldn’t let her comfort me. After a few weeks, they removed us from that horrible family. But then they failed to find someone who could take us both in, so Emily and I got separated. I don’t have very clear memories of that time, but I still can feel the fear twisting my insides when I think about those years. I was alone and scared. Emily had learned to fend for herself, but I hadn’t. I was just a baby... Eventually, I ended up with a nice lady. But no matter how much she tried, I wouldn’t let her in. I stopped eating. I wouldn’t communicate with her. Emily’s and my language skills were so far behind, I had no idea how to express my feelings. I missed my sister, and they wouldn’t let me see her.”

She closed her eyes, then opened them and continued.

“My adopted mother…she heard some of the ladies working in the foster care system one day talking about the feral sisters who were raised like animals and had to be separated, and they worried the younger one would never heal from the psychological trauma she’d experienced in her short life. My dad and she had already discussed fostering or adopting children. The idea of siblings enticed them. Ems and I were the perfect match. They found us and brought us home. From the day we met, I felt a pull toward them. They saved us. They saved my life.”

I tightened my squeeze on her hand. This was so much worse than any scenario I had pictured in my head. Wrath simmered in me, directed at the people and the system who failed Emily and Madison at such a young age. But then Madison offered me a small tip of her lips, and my rage evaporated. She was here. With me. None of those people could ever hurt her again.