Page 78 of Three Months Yesterday

I don’t know what that makes me to her. I know she’d label us friends—that’s what I called us—but that feels too small for the way my chest tightens every time I think of her. Whatever lives in the space between friends and what we could have been, that unnamed thing that pulses every time my hand brushes hers or she looks at me like she’s trying to memorize my face, that’s the thing I can’t walk away from. Even if Madison isn’t ready for it.

Showing up at her parents’ house the morning after her mother walked out on her is the kind of thing a person in my situation shouldn’t be doing.

But I’m here, the engine’s off, and I’m walking up the front path.

I take my time moving toward the front door. The ground covered in a thin layer of snow that crunches under my boots and feels too loud for the quiet of the early morning. The house looks different in this light. Softer, somehow. Last night the windows glowed warm against the dark and the whole place felt like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, even if what happened inside was anything but picturesque.

Once Madison dries her tears, she stands from the table, stacking plates and moving around her chair.

“What are you doing?” Aiden asks, watching her from across the table.

“Cleaning up dinner,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Her voice steady again. “Like I do every week.”

Wyatt opens his mouth to argue, but one look from Madison and he snaps his mouth shut, standing to help her gather more dishes before following her into the kitchen.

Aiden pulls Jackson into his side, his voice low. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you go play in the living room while we clean up? We’ll head home in just a bit.”

Jackson, who’s been sitting wide-eyed and confused since his aunt’s announcement, looks up at his dad. “Is Aunt Maddie okay?”

“Yeah, bud. She’s okay.”

Jackson gives his dad one more look before padding into the living room and the rest of us make quick work of getting everything cleaned up. I cover dishes, Wyatt packs the food into the fridge, and Aiden loads the dishwasher with the kind of efficiency that probably comes from years of cleaning up after a four-year-old. There’s no discussion, just quiet contemplation.

When the kitchen and dining room are squared away, we all head for the door, Aiden pausing to help Jackson clean up before meeting us outside.

The cold hits immediately. A sharp January wind cutting through the air, telling us snow’s on the horizon. Aiden and Wyatt both pull Madison in for hugs before any of us can move to our cars.

“We love you, Mads,” Aiden says, his arm tight around her. “You know we’re here for anything you need.”

“Anything,” Wyatt echoes, pulling her from Aiden and wrapping her in a tight hug himself. “Day or night. I don’t care what time it is, or that Beckett’s right next door.”

I hang back, giving them their moment. This is family, and whatever I want to be to Madison, I’m not that.

Wyatt pulls away, but holds Madison’s biceps as he talks to her.

Aiden, taking the distracted opportunity, steps over to me, Jackson on his hip with his face buried against his dad’s shoulder, already falling asleep.

“I don’t know what happened with my parents in there,” Aiden says, his voice pitched low enough Madison won’t hear as he makes his way down the porch steps to his car. “But I’ll talk to them about it tomorrow.”

He shifts Jackson, getting him settled against his chest as he reaches for the car door. I watch him as he situates Jackson in his car seat, trying to figure out why he thought I needed to know that.

Without missing a beat, Aiden pauses his movements and looks at me. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and my sister, but there’s no doubt it’s something important.” He straightens, his jaw set. “I don’t want you to think what happened in there tonight is normal or acceptable.”

“I know it’s not,” I tell him, ignoring the comment about Madison and me. Instead, I lean past him and catch Jackson’s eye.

“Night, buddy.”

Jackson shifts his head just enough to give me a sleepy smile. “Night, Beckett.”

Aiden holds my gaze for a beat longer than comfortable, something unspoken passing between us. Then he nods once, confirms Jackson’s in his car seat, and that’s that.

I look over to see Wyatt pressing a kiss to Madison’s forehead before he lets her go. Giving her brother a tight-lipped smile, she turns toward me and heads for my 4Runner, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

The drive home is quiet. Madison keeps her focus out the passenger window, her reflection ghosting across the glass every time we pass any light on the street. She isn’t crying, just staring, her breath fogging the windows in slow, even circles.

I don’t fill the silence, no matter how much I want to, but I’ve learned enough about Madison over the last five weeks to know that sometimes she needs the quiet more than she needs words. So, I drive, and she stares out the window, the inside of the vehicle feeling small in a way that has nothing to do with its actual size.

I pull up outside her house and put the 4Runner in park. Madison doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to register that we’re even stopped.