When she backed away, tears slid down her cheeks. “Goodbye, Maddox.”
The room closed in on him, a cold sweat washing over him as she strode away. Then the world as he knew it spun on its axis as her bedroom door clicked shut.
Chapter 12
The following night after the breakup, and unable to sleep or get anything right in his mind, Maddox left his house for the gym but instead arrived at Seattle Springs, the nursing home where his father had lived for two years. Everything looked different now, nothing the same. Truth was, he didn’t know how to fix everything, but he didn’t know how to let Joss go either. He strode through the main doors and turned right, entering the sitting room.
He leaned against the doorframe and smiled, staring at the man sitting in the corner by the window, reading a book. Amusing to say the least because, before Alzheimer’s, his father had hated reading. That was the weirdness of the disease. His father didn’t even act like himself anymore, except for being a night owl. Once a stoic, hard-ass cop, now he’d become a scholar who discussed things that forced Maddox to read a few books so he understood what his father talked about.
“Today’s a good day.”
Maddox turned toward the sweet voice, finding Nancy, a nurse that’d been at the nursing home since his father moved in. “Those have been few and far between. Any reason for the change?” Maddox asked.
Nancy half shrugged, giving her gentle smile. “I’m not sure, but he’s been like this all day. He’s very lucid and aware. Go talk to him while it lasts.” She turned on her heels, picking up a tray with plastic drinking cups on her way out into the hall.
Maddox moved toward the two cotton wingback chairs resting in front of the bay window. “Hello,” he said with a smile, not using a name since that could set his father off. He’d been everything from George to Harry to Edward, but never John, his real name. “I’m Maddox, and I’d like to visit with you today if that’s all right.” Which is what the support staff told him to say whenever he approached his father.
“Yes, of course, please take a seat,” said John, closing the book and putting it on the round side table next to him.
Maddox took his seat, finding his father dressed in a white shirt with a blue sweater overtop and beige slacks. Appearance-wise, no one would ever know there was anything wrong with him. He had the same bright eyes, the same color as Maddox’s. Same medium build. Same deep wrinkles around his eyes. Same gray hair. But this man was a shell of what his father used to be. “What book are you reading there?” Maddox asked.
“It’s a love story I found on my bedside table this afternoon after my nap, along with a whole basket of things,” John said sheepishly. “I know it seems silly for a man of my age to read such things, but I was such a failure at love during my life, I wondered how other men managed it.”
Maddox smiled, not commenting on the fact that his father before would’ve bet a million dollars he’d never read a romance novel. The truth was, his father probably made up a whirlwind romance in his mind that didn’t even exist. “You couldn’t have been that bad with the ladies, a handsome fella like yourself.”
John barked a laugh and slapped his once strong leg that now looked far frailer. “I did enjoy my fair share of ladies, of course, but there was one woman who mattered above all the others.”
Nancy returned then, placing two hot apple ciders, a new favorite drink of his father’s, onto the coffee table between them. “Thank you,” Maddox said to her before picking up the mug and addressing his father again, indulging the conversation. “Tell me more about this woman.”
He took a sip of his cider, as his father explained, “She was the mother of my only son.”
“You had a son?” Maddox asked, lowering his mug back to the table. Last time, his father had said he had a daughter, which of course wasn’t true. The time before that, he’d had twins.
John began to frown. “No…no, I don’t know why I said that.”
“About this woman,” Maddox added quickly, moving the conversation along not to let John get too focused on what he didn’t know. The key to pleasant conversations with John was not reminding him of all the things he couldn’t remember. “Was she pretty?”
“Pretty?” John said, a big smile spreading across his face, eyes twinkling. “She was one of those girls that shined as bright as a million suns in the sky.”
Maddox chuckled. Apparently, the old man had been reading quite a few romance novels.
A thought he kept to himself as John continued. “For some reason, she married a guy like me”—a sudden darkness rose to his face, voice growing thicker—“and, truthfully, that was the biggest mistake she could’ve made. I was her demise.”
Maddox leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean by ‘her demise?’”
John sipped his cider before putting his mug back on the coffee table. “I never told her I loved her, can you believe such a thing?”
“Yes, actually, I can,” Maddox said, never having said those three words to any woman either. It was not something built into his vocabulary. He couldn’t recall his father having ever said it to him either.
“I’m not sure why that seemed so hard at the time, but it was. It felt like it weakened me to say it, or maybe it gave her control over me. I’m not sure. It’s something I’ve wondered over the years, you know. Was it because no one ever told me ‘I love you?’ Could it be that I never learned from my parents how to express emotions like that?”
Maddox reached for his cider again, washing away the discomfort rising in his throat. “What happened to this woman?”
“She died.”
There was a ring of truth to his father’s voice, a little more clarity than usual. As odd as it was, there was something inside Maddox, telling him to dig a little here when normally he wouldn’t. “When did she die?”
Another orderly walked by, heading down the hallway when John answered, “A week after she’d left my son and me. She’d been in a car accident, and I was called because I was her next of kin.”
Maddox frowned. “You can’t think you’re responsible for her death.”
“It’s my biggest regret in my life,” his father added dryly, reaching for his mug and taking another sip. “If I’d only treated her better, she wouldn’t have left us. She wouldn’t have been driving that night to look for a new apartment suitable to raise a child.”
Maddox almost commented on the child again but knew to stay away. This was the most his father had talked in at least six months. Usually, his conversations were so far out there, it was hard to follow along sometimes.
Letting his father go on, Maddox stayed silent, as John said, “If I’d called her and begged for her to come back… If I had worked less and been there for her more. If I had treated her like the angel she was. She’d still be here, not only for me. But also for my son.” He suddenly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, then he took out a black-and-white photo, offering it to Maddox. “This is my Lilianna.”
At his mother’s name, Maddox froze, unable to speak, and squeezed his fingers around the picture of his mom and him. He tried to get his mind around this, reading between the lines to gauge if this was another of his father’s stories. Back when he was a young kid and had asked why he didn’t have a mom, his father replied, “Because some kids don’t. Sorry, buddy, I’m all you’ve got.”
He’d never asked again. Even as a young boy, he’d seen the discomfort his dad felt at having to have that conversation. It was never said but fully understood. Now, as he looked at his mother’s sweet smile and long, flowing, golden locks, he wondered if he should’ve asked more. And fought for the answers he hadn’t known he wanted until this moment.
Those thoughts led him down a path of wondering if the anger he’d felt toward women growing up might have only been anger at himself for pushing them away. Before he could spiral out of control, and knowing the likelihood that this story could also be completely made-up, he a
sked, “Did you tell your son about what happened to his mother?”
“No.” John hung his head, voice soft. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was so deeply ashamed,” John said softly, placing his mug back onto the table and linking his hands together on his lap. “I know what you must think of me, but I was so embarrassed that my failures had led to his mother leaving. That she felt a new life was better than the life she had with me. Then I couldn’t face telling him the truth. That I had caused her death.”
Maddox’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He couldn’t be sure his father was even telling the truth, but a little voice inside believed him. And he didn’t know what to do with this information.
John ran a hand over his face and drew in a long, deep breath before speaking again. “Do you think if I had told my son the truth, he would’ve forgiven me?”
Maddox stared at a stranger. So honest. So transparent. So regretful. So emotional. So unlike his father. Above all else, he stared at a man who’d done his best for him, and Maddox had only good memories. “Yes, I do think if you had told your son the truth, he would have forgiven you.” He paused. Then, not only for his father but for himself, too, he added, “And I’d bet he never would have blamed you at all.”
One second, John gave a soft, warm smile. The next, his expression became a little colder, a bit detached. “What were we talking about?” He blinked, his eyes widening, fear present in their depths. “Who are you?”
Maddox rose, taking his exit before an outburst happened. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I’d brought you a cup of cider.” He pointed to the half-drunk mug on the table. “I thought you might like a drink before bed.”
“Ah, yes, yes I do. Thank you.” John picked up the warm beverage and glanced out the window, taking a long sip as if he hadn’t dropped the biggest bombshell on Maddox’s life. As Maddox turned to leave, John piped up. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, please tell that nurse Joss to come back. She was so lovely.”
“Sorry,” Maddox said slowly. “Did you say Joss?”
“I believe that was her name,” John said with a smile. “She came to see me today. I think…or was that yesterday?” He paused, shaking his head, then added, “I wonder if it was her who brought me this book.”
“This nurse,” Maddox pressed, still reeling, “what else did she bring you?”
John pointed over Maddox’s shoulder. “Have a look. It’s all right there.”
Maddox moved toward the basket sitting on a table. His dead, cold heart skipped a couple of beats as he stared at what was obviously a care basket. Countless books in different genres. Candies and mixed nuts. “Did she say why she was here?” he asked.
Nancy entered the room and answered with a gentle smile, “To visit a fellow cop who deserved some company.”
Knowing Joss had been sweet and thoughtful had never been a question in his mind. He glanced back to the gift basket and realized that sweetness made her unforgettable by not only him but also his father, a man who couldn’t even remember his son.
* * *
Two days after the breakup, and early into the morning, Maddox had slept only a handful of hours. The sun beamed through the window, and from his place on his couch, Maddox glanced up from the coffee table to find Grey entering the living room, as was the norm every Sunday morning.
“What’s all this?” Grey asked, waving to the pile of papers spread out on the table. “And why are you not ready for the gym?”
Working out was the last thing on Maddox’s mind. He leaned back on his couch and folded his arms. “Documents about my mother.”
Grey’s brows shot up to his hairline, and as he settled into Maddox’s favorite black leather recliner angled perfectly toward the TV in the corner of the room, he asked, “What documents?”
Maddox was sure he’d spoken to Grey about his mother over the years, but it wasn’t often, which explained the curiosity shining in Grey’s expression.
“Yesterday I went and visited my father,” Maddox explained, staring down at the photograph of his mother. He discovered he looked a lot like her. Same hair color, same eyes even, only she was far more feminine than him with soft features. “Of course, my father didn’t know it was me,” Maddox added to Grey, “but he began telling me a story about the love of his life and how he’d wronged her enough that she left him.”
Grey glanced over the documents on the table with a frown before looking up at Maddox again. “That’s not what he told you before, right?”
Maddox shook his head, ran his hands over his face, and drew in a deep breath before answering, “I can only recall him ever talking about her once. I think I was six, maybe, and had asked about her. He told me that she’d left us. He never explained to me why, or why she hadn’t come back.”
“Did he tell you why she left when you saw him yesterday?” Grey asked.
Maddox picked up the driver’s license photo of his mother that he’d gotten from the DMV. Lilianna Hunt was a beautiful woman but appeared haunted, troubled. Even now, Maddox swore he could see the pain of her life in her face, especially her eyes. He stared into them now, as he began explaining what his father had told him yesterday.
By the time he was finished, Grey’s mouth was set in a firm line. “I suppose that gives a reason for why she left,” he offered.
Maddox nodded. “It does.” And while that fulfilled the little question inside him—how does a mother leave her child?—the part of his soul where a mother’s love should be, remained cold. “But it’s the reason she never came back that’s far more interesting.”
“What reason is that?” Grey asked.
Maddox picked up the police report in front of him that he’d printed off, offering it to Grey.
Grey’s eyes scanned over the document then his gaze returned to Maddox in a flash. “Fuck, man. She died?”
Maddox bobbed his head, wishing that hadn’t been the case. There’d been many times over the years that he nearly considered looking into her. He had the means to at the station, but he’d always stopped himself, thinking she wanted nothing to do with him. “Honestly, I didn’t think the old man was telling the truth when he told me yesterday.” Because he didn’t think his father would ever lie to him. Their relationship had been good, tight. His father had been there for every football and baseball game. An honorable, good cop, Maddox had been proud to be his son. This didn’t make him proud. “From what I’ve seen, it appears he was right—she died a week after she left, while she was out looking for an apartment to raise me.”
Grey read the report detailing the accident again and then shook his head in obvious disbelief. “I don’t understand why your father would keep this from you.”
“Shame,” Maddox offered the only thing he could come up with. And he’d considered every option out there. “From what he said, he felt responsible for her death. I can only imagine that he didn’t want to upset me.”
“Or he didn’t want to face the truth himself.” Grey tossed the paper back onto the coffee table. “I guess that explains why you look so torn up. Have you even slept?”
“Not much.” Maddox dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair, trying to get ahead of this. “I wondered from time to time why she never came back or even checked in on me.” He lifted his head, looking at the one person who’d always been a constant in his life. “I couldn’t wrap my head around what kind of mother would do that?”
“A terrible one,” Grey muttered.
“Exactly, but was she so terrible?” Maddox rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. “Or have I punished the wrong person my entire life?” All night long and into the early morning, he remembered all the times he’d cursed his mother when he was younger. He remembered the time in his teens when he’d decided he didn’t need her or any woman for that matter. And he vividly recalled the time he’d decided not to live in the pursuit of love but put his career above his
personal life. Though without his mother as the enemy, those choices would have never been made. “Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m thinking about all this shit. It’s in the past. It’s done.”
“Oh, I know why you’re up in arms,” said Grey, leaning back in his seat, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “It’s because when you start questioning yourself about your mother, you start wondering why you haven’t made the sweet lady in your life a little more permanent.”
“This isn’t about Joss, it’s about my mom,” Maddox bit off, rising to his feet. He moved to the window, staring out into the cloudy day.
“Bullshit,” Grey countered. “Why do you think I’ve been razzing you?”
Maddox snorted, not looking back at his friend. “Because you enjoy irritating me.”
“Well, yeah, I do,” Grey said with a soft chuckle. “Regardless, I’m saying she’s getting under your skin because she can, and that’s never happened to you before. She’s different. You’re different with her.”
Maddox snorted again, then he turned to Grey. “What are you, my therapist?”
Grey didn’t even flinch, holding his stare intently. “We’re as close as brothers, Maddox. I know you, and I know what this woman is doing to you, even if you don’t want to accept it.”
Maddox knew he’d typically shut down here, ignore what Grey had to say to him, and tell him to fuck off. Instead, today, for whatever reason, he couldn’t. Everything was different, and he couldn’t get a handle on anything. “Regardless of what you think might be going on, the conversation is pointless. Joss ended it.”
“When?”
“A couple days ago.”
Grey’s eyebrows began to narrow, voice growing hard. “What did you do?”
“How do you know it’s something I did?”
Grey arched an eyebrow.
Maddox scoffed, retuning to stare out the window. “Who’s at fault is beside the point. It’s done. Over.”
“Of course, who is at fault matters,” Grey said, “because if it were your fault—which I’m sure it was—then you can fix it.”
Heartbreaker (Filthy Dirty Love #1) Page 15