A deep chuckle reverberated out of my chest. “You just have no idea, do you?”
“What?” Her fingers slid into my belt loops.
“It didn’t matter how many girls I kissed, touched, or fucked. I was always left disappointed in the end.”
She rolled her eyes again. “How is that possible?”
I tipped her chin back and brushed my mouth over hers. “Because they weren’t you.” I sighed. “It’s always been you.”
Madeline opened her mouth to say something. Her eyes ping-ponged between mine. Something shifted between us. I felt my chest sliding open. But we both snapped our attention away when Madeline’s mom pulled into their driveway, parking right behind Madeline’s BMW.
We pulled away instantly, the moment between us breaking. Guilt crumbled her features, the dazed and swoony gleam in her eye fading.
“I gotta go talk with my mom…about the other night with my dad.” I glanced behind me to my house. “She’s waiting to talk to me before she sleeps from her shift last night.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Madeline’s mom. I didn’t want to. So as soon as Madeline nodded, I turned on my heel and jogged up my porch steps without another glance back.
“Mom,” I shouted as I walked through the front door, shoving my keys in my pocket. “I’m home.”
“Hey, baby,” she answered. “I’m in the kitchen.”
The scent of coffee wafted throughout the foyer, dragging me to where she was with two steaming mugs sitting on the counter.
“Thanks.” I reached out and grabbed one, wrapping my hand around the ceramic.
My mom was nervous, that much I could tell, and that didn’t particularly sit well with me because that meant whatever she was about to say was going to be the wrong fucking thing.
“Did you have fun at the cabin?”
I drank a sip, locking onto her worried eyes. “I did. Surprised Dad hasn’t banned me from it yet. He’s taken everything else.”
She placed her mug down, the clank an unwelcome sound to my ears. “We need to talk about your father.”
I strode over to the kitchen table, placing my mug down on top. I was pretty sure I needed something to ground me with the increasing look of apprehension in her eyes. “That’s why I’m here at 8 am on a Saturday, Mom.” My eyebrow lifted as I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. I could feel the beating of my heart behind my rib cage.
“Your father and I have decided to work on things.”
What I imagined in my head was shooting up from the table and freaking the fuck out, stomping back and forth while reminding her that I had to listen to her cry in her bedroom for months and months, and how I watched her work herself to death at the hospital just so she had something to do other than deal with his bullshit.
“I know you’re upset,” she said, her voice wobbly.
“Damn right, I am.” I pierced her with a look. “He hurt you.”
Her gaze shifted to her mug. “And he hurt you.”
Yeah, he fucking did.
“But you have to understand. I’ve known your father for many, many years, Eric. We’ve been through a lot of ups and downs.” She sighed, and I couldn’t even look at her.
It wasn’t my decision to make. I was their son, not their fucking marriage counselor. But the thought of him coming back into our lives like he hadn’t done a single thing wrong made my blood run hot. “It’s just…” She paused, surely waiting for me to look at her, but I wouldn’t.
I stood up quickly, the chair scraping the floor beneath my feet. “You don’t need to explain.” The breath I inhaled felt like breathing in a million little shards of glass as I reeled in my anger. “I need to know if he’s moving back in, because if he is…” I glanced through the kitchen window above our sink, peering at Madeline’s house.
“No!” she rushed out. “We’re working on things, but that doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. He’s still going to live in the city, and we will live here—well, I will, because come fall, you’re going to college.”
“Maybe.”
She gave me a look. “What does that mean?”