the top of my head, “I’m heading to the Sinclairs. I think you should join me.” And with that, my mom left my room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Chapter 30
“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
Madison
“Mom, I don’t think I can do this.” I breathed, just as we stepped over the threshold of the big house, Monica’s cheery face ducking out from the dining room and welcoming us with a smile and a wave.
“Come in, come in, Edward is joining us tonight, aren’t we the luckiest?”
I stepped around the corner, my eyes first falling on the patriarch of the Sinclair family, before casting to Kyler’s rigid frame across the table from him. I wanted to melt into the floor and die. He looked so sad. A part of me felt horrible that I was the cause of it, but I also knew this was a mess I couldn’t fix even if I tried.
“Good evening, ladies.” Edward lifted a glass of amber liquid, before sipping it again. “Sorry I haven’t caught many of these family dinners, important work keeps me away, but it sure seems like all of you have kept yourselves occupied around here.” Monica patted his shoulder once, before dutifully pouring a little more of whatever he was drinking from a crystal carafe on the table.
“We’ve missed you wildly.” Monica settled herself at his side, an unusually enthusiastic smile on her face. Was she really so excited to have her husband for dinner? Something about her actions felt hollow and contrived.
“Missed you like a hole in the head,” Kyler grunted.
“Kyler, stop that,” Monica hushed, fear tracking between her son and her husband.
“No, I won't stop that. Not anymore, I’m so fucking sick of living in this big fake house with all these fake feelings. Everything about this family is fake bullshit and I won’t swallow it and smile like a good little boy.”
”Kyler.” Edward’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m warning you.”
“Fuck your warnings.” Kyler shot from his chair, causing it to cascade across the floor in a clatter. His hand locked around the handle of the crystal carafe with the alcohol and sent it crashing across the room to shatter in a thousand shards on the marble floor. “If you would have listened to me when I was twelve, I wouldn’t need to calm down.”
“Oh, here we go again.”
“Seven years, seven fucking years and I still have the same exact story--if you think I’m fucked up, you only have yourself to blame. Instead of protecting me, you did everything you could to avoid me.”
“That’s not true, Ky--”
“It is, Mom, it is true. He did nothing after he found out his best friend abused his son.” Anger shook Kyler’s form before he cut his gaze from Monica’s, dashing out of the dining room, down the hallway, and out of the front doors.
I gripped the arms of my chair to stand and race out after him, when Mom placed a hand on mine. “Let him be, Madison, he needs time.”
“I think I need time too,” I said, barely above a whisper. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to skip dinner tonight, my stomach isn’t feeling so well.” I stood, leaving the dining room without another word. I didn't go to Kyler, even though I wanted to, I went back to my bedroom, curled up with my pillow, and cried myself into a dreamless sleep.
I must have only slept for a little while. By the time Mom was back and waking me up with her soothing words, the sun was still bright in the sky. “I brought you some leftovers, honey.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, head still stuffed face first in the pillow.
“I thought maybe we should talk about what Kyler said.”
I didn't have the words, only painful barbs digging into my throat where my vocal cords should be.
“He mentioned Edward’s best friend, Pierce Black…” Her palm rubbed circles on my back, her tone lowered.
A pounding rattled through my head, my veins suddenly drenched with freezing ice as I launched myself off the bed and flung my head into the toilet. I vomited out all the pain, emotion, and uneasy thoughts I’d been having for days.
“Madison, you are so perfect, and you are every part your father’s daughter--you were the apple of Michael’s eye and as much his own as if he’d fathered you himself. You’re not Pierce