Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
“I’m not.”
Liam gives me an apologetic look, but I don’t mind. Listening to Maddie’s antics brings me back to being roommates and hanging out every day. That was before shit got complicated with the O’Learys.
Baby Tyler wakes up when Liam grabs him out of the car seat, and he nuzzles his face into Liam’s neck. I take the diaper bag from him, then shut the door.
“Gonna give me the grand tour?” I tease as we make our way to the front.
“Absolutely!” Maddie answers. “I have your room all set and ready. Can’t wait to show you.”
A couple of days after my arrival, we had a cookout and my other friends—Mason, Sophie, Hunter, Lennon, and all their kids—came over. It was the reunion I’d been anxious about for months. Though they all visited me from time to time, it wasn’t as frequent as Maddie and Liam, so it was good to see them.
We drank beer, talked about sports, and I played with the little ones. For the first time in years, I felt normal. Though at moments, I’d look around waiting for the guard to tell me time was up, then push me back in my cell.
I hadn’t realized the PTSD would kick in so quickly or that I’d actually have it. There’s no “therapy session” that walks us through going back to real life. Basically, I’m just winging it. It was often lonely. The only person I had actual conversations with was my cellmate, Archer. We met three years ago, and before him, I didn’t talk much to anyone. He has a few years left, and I told him to get in touch with me as soon as he’s released. I even left him my new address in case he wanted to reach out.
Tomorrow, I’ll fly to Alabama, and Everleigh will pick me up from the airport. I don’t have much packed, maybe a suitcase full. Liam was able to grab some things from my old apartment in Vegas, mostly clothes and some personal items. My sister’s letting me stay in her spare room, which is great for me, but I already feel like a burden. Though she’s told me several times I’m not, it’s hard not to feel like a failure at life right now.
“The baby has been kicking all day.” Maddie waddles into my room and plops down on the bed. “He’s protesting you leaving.”
“Is that so?” I ask with amusement, popping a brow.
She crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. “Yes. He wants to meet you as soon as he’s here.”
“You can FaceTime me on my new phone,” I remind her. “After the birth, though, please. Not during.”
Liam chuckles as he walks in holding baby Tyler, glancing at Maddie, then me. “Trust me, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“It won’t be the same.” Maddie pouts. “But either way, you better answer when we call. No matter what.”
“I will, promise.”
She closes her eyes, and tears stream down her cheeks. It guts me to see her upset. I love Maddie and appreciate everything they’ve done for me, but I can’t stay. No matter how much she wants me to, I just can’t.
“Mads, don’t cry.” I lean over and wipe her cheek. “I’ll visit. We’ll text and talk on the phone. You’ll send me photos of your babies. I’ll FaceTime you and show you around my hometown.”
She sniffs and nods. “You better!”
“I will.”
Maddie cracks a smile, and I wrap my arms around her, giving her a hug without adding too much pressure.
“How about I cook one more dinner for old times’ sake?” I grin.
“Not that spicy shit, though.” She points a finger at me, and I laugh. When I was her bodyguard in Montana and before she knew I was Liam’s friend, I made her one of my grandma’s Southern pasta dishes. Before I could warn her to stir in the seasonings, she took a large bite, and her tongue went numb.
“Whatever you want. Lady’s choice,” I offer, standing.
She follows my lead, and we walk toward the kitchen. “Mac ’n cheese mixed with carrots and cut-up Vienna sausages.”
I turn and narrow my eyes at her, then glance at Liam.
He shakes his head. “Don’t ask. She’s had the weirdest pregnancy cravings these past few months.”
“It’s not that weird!” she argues.
“I don’t know, Mads. That sounds like prison food.” I chuckle, grabbing a pan from the cabinet. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten it but made with generic shit and old powdered cheese.”
“Oh, we’re going fancy tonight. Kraft shells all the way and extra cheese on top.” Maddie grabs two boxes from the pantry, then shakes them in the air like maracas.
Soon, dinner is ready, and the three of us are laughing as we serve ourselves, then sit at the table.
“This is so good.” Maddie moans around a mouthful. “Right, baby?”