Page 3

Chapter 2

Moments in the dark

Madeline “Maddie” Mason

I blink. And then blink again. I’m unable to tear my gaze from the back of the motel room door. All I can do is stand here.

Has he lost his mind? Is he applying for sainthood? Does he really intend to sleep outside my door on the cold, hard pavement?

This is madness.

What if he has to go to the bathroom?

That random thought shakes me from my stupor. Maybe I’m the one who has lost her mind.

A man is standing guard outside my motel room door all night long, and yet I’m worried about his bladder. Not that he doesn’t have anything soft to sit on or will be cold. Not that he probably has work to do tomorrow and won’t get any sleep. Not that he has nothing to drink, no blanket or pillow. Oh no. I’m worried about where he’ll urinate.

Pretty sure his access to a restroom is at the bottom of the list of the things wrong with this situation.

I scurry over to my purse to get my cell phone, quickly flipping it open to call Leo. He assured me that his squad leader was an honorable man. If my son can trust him with his life, I can surely trust him with mine. Leo’s an excellent judge of character. But now I have my doubts. This isn’t normal behavior.

Or is it?

I can’t decide whether it’s sweet and kind that he’s so insistent or flat-out manipulative. My head is too messed up to decode it.

Leo answers on the first ring. “Mom, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, my love. I’m fine. Alan got me a room at the Holiday Inn a few blocks from the diner. I’m settled in for the night.”

When he speaks again, his voice is steady. “That’s great. Are you comfortable then? Do you feel safe?”

A wistful sense of pride inflates my chest. My son is so sweet. How did I get so lucky with him and unlucky with his father?

“Yes, my gentle giant. It’s just...” I creep farther away from the door and lower my voice. “Alan insists on sleeping outside my door. On the ground. In the cold.”

There’s a pause, and the line crackles. “Yeah? And?”

My eyes bulge, and I jut my chin forward. “ And ? Seriously, son?”

“Yes, seriously. He told me he was gonna watch over you all night. That’s what he’s doing. If I could be there, I’d be doing the same.”

“You’d be inside the room, at least. I can’t let him stay out there all night. Call him and tell him to go back to base.”

“I’d rather not do that, Ma. And he wouldn’t listen to me even if I did. Let’s face it. Dad’s probably looking for you as we speak. And he knows there’s only three places you could go.”

He’s right. Travis knows I’d go to stay with one of our three children. Sammy and Drew are out of the question since they’re at college. They don’t need my drama. Not that Leo needs it, either. But he’s better equipped for this than the other two.

And stronger—physically and emotionally.

If I’m honest with myself, that’s why I came here. All the way to Georgia from Maine. I needed to feel safe. I haven’t in so long.

With all three kids out of the house, the beatings have gotten worse, not better as Travis promised. He always said it was the stress of parenting that made him drink so much. The burden of being the sole provider. The irony of saying that while refusing to let me work was never lost on me.

It doesn’t matter now.

I’m not taking him back. I’m done with his bullshit lies and empty promises.

Sadly, he won’t accept my decision. He’ll fight me tooth and nail. He’ll never let me leave him.

I fear he’ll kill me one day if I stay with him. He almost has so many times.

Moisture pricks my eyes, and my sinuses start to sting. Tears flow anew.

“Ma, are you okay?”

“Yes, son. I’m fine.” I sniffle as quietly as I can, attempting to hide my tears from him.

“You’re crying. I can tell.”

Oh goodie. I failed again.

“No, I’m not,” I bluff.

“Liar,” he teases, bringing a minuscule grin to my face.

“Fine. You caught me.” I flop onto the bed. “I’m just... I don’t know, Leo. I’m scared. No, I’m utterly terrified.”

Saying the words—out loud—unleashes a flurry of confusing emotions inside me. There’s a freeing sensation that comes with the honesty of the confession, as if I’m sharing the load. But that relief is tainted by the black streaks of shame.

I’m the parent. I shouldn’t need my son’s comfort and protection like this. It’s unfair of me to put this on him.

But I don’t want to die.

“Mom, I know you are. I’m scared for you too.”

His admission makes my chest quiver. “You are?”

“Always have been. I only wish I could have stopped him a long time ago. But I promise you that he won’t hurt you anymore. If they approve my leave, we’ll get you out and safe. I’ll talk to him. Man to man. Put an end to this shit. Once and for all.”

My pulse thrashes wildly in my neck, making me twitch all over. The idea of him having to clean up my mess is too much for me to bear. I’ve already sucked him into this more than I should have. All I want is for him to look after me while I search for a new place to live in a new town. Far from Travis. And then I’ll need him to accompany me for the move so I can pack without being accosted. That’s it. I just need Leo to watch over me while I handle it myself.

I can do this.

But I know my limits. Physically, I’m no match for his father.

“No, son. You can’t do that. I need to handle this. It’s my problem to solve. I just need your protection. Nothing more.”

Like always, we go back and forth for a while before I fake a headache to get off the phone. We’re not accomplishing anything. He’s determined to solve this for me, and I’m too stubborn to let him get involved that deep.

After I hang up, I stare at the painting on the wall. One of those tacky prints in brash colors that simultaneously match and clash with the comforter.

I sit there a long time. Eyes fixed on the framed image, unsure what I’m looking at. It’s just lines, shapes, and colors. At least, that’s how it looks to me. A mess. Thrown together in a way that passes as art. Although no one could tell what it’s supposed to be—not with any certainty.

That’s me.

A mess of bruises and scars. No rhyme or reason to their placement. Just a mangled bunch of shapes and lines dotting my flesh. Inside, it’s far worse. It leaves me barely discernible. Hardly a woman anymore. Barely a human.

A soft knock at the door startles me. I flinch and gasp, and my pulse shoots through the roof. Once I catch my breath, I slink to the door, fear weaving through my bones with each sluggish step.

“Madeline, it’s just me.”

It’s Alan. My son’s superior officer. The one sitting outside my door.

Silly me. Who did I think it was?

I open the door, wearing a plastic smile. “Yes?”

The chilly night air whips across my cheeks. My damp cheeks.

“Are you all right?” he asks, compassion etched onto the sharp lines of his handsome face. His voice is rich and deep. There’s a tenderness to him.

I don’t know why I didn’t notice how striking he was earlier.

Or maybe I did, but I denied it. I’m a pro at hiding my feelings. Even from myself. Hiding, in general, is my skill of choice.

“I’m fine,” I lie, knowing I’m the farthest thing from that.

Softly, he calls me on my bull. “I heard you crying. I didn’t want you to be alone. No one likes to cry alone, right?” Quickly, he amends, “Unless you wanted to be alone. I thought I’d ask you. Give you the choice.”

That explains why my cheeks are wet. I was crying. And didn’t even know it. Loud enough to be heard outside by my... bodyguard? For lack of a better word, I’ll go with that.

Boy, oh boy , I really know how to make a great first impression.

Not sure how he knew it, but he’s right. I don’t want to be alone.

“You know, I think I’ll sleep better if you’re in here. Come on in.”

As he passes by, he holds his palms out in front of his chest. “You are free to kick me out at any point. Just say the word, and I’m gone.”

I grin, shaking my head to reject the notion of me kicking this compassionate man out in the cold. “What kind of monster do you take me for? It’s supposed to get down into the forties tonight.” I tilt my head toward the beds. “You can take the bed by the door.”

After I excuse myself to the restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, I return to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. He seems stiff and unsettled. His posture is unyielding.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

His answering chuckle sends warmth through my bones. “No. I’m fine. I probably won’t sleep much. If you want to talk, that’s fine. If you want to watch TV, that’s fine. If you want me to be quiet and just be here with you, well, that’s fine too.”

“I think quiet company would be nice. I haven’t slept much in the last few days.”

“Sleep it is then.”

Despite my life in crisis, I find myself smiling at Alan, feeling a genuine sense of safety in his presence. It’s odd. Unexpected.

Especially since I do not know him. Not at all.

I haven’t been alone with a man other than Travis in many years. If he knew I was here, sharing a hotel with another man, he’d murder us both. What am I thinking?

My fear ratchets up again, leaving me feeling like I’m on a dang roller coaster. Not the fun kind. My emotions are all over the flipping place.

Leo would never let someone he didn’t trust fully watch over me. I’d do well to remember that. It’ll keep my blood pressure in check.

Without speaking, I crawl into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. I scoot to the far side of the bed, closest to the wall. Sleeping fully dressed isn’t ideal, but I won’t feel comfortable in my pajamas with a virtual stranger in here. At least I’m in comfy pants.

Alan kicks off his shoes and slides up his bed toward the pillows. Reaching over, he hovers his hand over the light switch between the beds. “Lights on or off?”

“Off, please.”

He nods, then cuts them off.

Hidden in the dark, it’s easier for me to speak. “Thanks again for your help. Sorry to suck you into my mess. And I appreciate you helping to get Leo some time off. We’ll get this handled quickly so it doesn’t take away from his responsibilities for long.”

“No problem, Madeline.”

“My friends call me Maddie.”

His tone barely conceals his amusement. “And am I your friend?”

“Any friend of Leo’s is a friend of mine. Assuming you want to be.”

“I would like that. I don’t have many friends. Just my squad.”

“I don’t either,” I admit.

Travis keeps it that way.

After the silence stretches, he rumbles, “It’s lonely, isn’t it?”

“Terribly. Especially since my kids are grown.”

“I bet.”

I fight a yawn. “Do you have children? Or a wife?”

Not that I care.

“Nope. Lifelong bachelor.”

“A playboy, huh?”

Since my eyes have adjusted to the dark, I see him ardently shaking his head. “Not quite. Just never found the right woman. Besides, the family thing isn’t conducive to my line of work.”

“Why is that? Lots of soldiers get married and have families.”

“What woman wants to spend month after month alone? Worried constantly? Always wondering if each knock on the door will be the one with a folded flag delivery?” He scoffs. “No one wants that.”

Aiming for a bit of levity, I quip, “I don’t think that’s accurate. Aside from the folded flag thing, I’m a married woman who’d love to be alone for months on end.”

“Well, you’re a special case. An exception to the rule.”

“I suppose so. But I’m still sorry you haven’t found someone to love.”

Even as the words leave my mouth, they feel wrong. Through my sleepy thoughts, I shake off the absurd idea that it pleases me he’s single.

I’ve lost it. Perhaps being knocked onto the concrete gave me a concussion after all.

I’m a married woman. Unhappily, but married, nonetheless.

For now.

Then again, maybe that sentiment rings untrue because love isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I say as much. “Maybe you’ve got it all figured out, and people like me are the ones who messed up. Aside from my children, what good has love and marriage done for me?”

The sound of his breathing mingles with the hum of the heater turning on. The moments tick by, my words playing in my mind on a loop.

We’re silent for so long I assume he’s fallen asleep. Out of nowhere, he says, “It’s not my place to ask this. However, since we’re friends now...” The trepidation is clear in his tone. In my heart of hearts, I know what he’s about to ask before he says it. “Are you going to leave him?”

I grind my teeth. Isn’t that the million-dollar question?

“I’ll take things I’d rather not think about for eight hundred, Alex.”

I can’t see it, but I know he smiles.

“Madeline, I thought we already discussed my name. Big Al isn’t short for Alex.”

“And I thought you were going to call me Maddie.”

“I’ll call you Maddie if you call me Big Al.”

“Nope. You’ll always be Alan to me.”

His chuckle slips around me like a warm hug, driving away the cold. “Why won’t you call me Big Al? Everyone has called me that for most of my life.”

I click my tongue, contemplating if I want to answer truthfully or keep things above board. “I’m not sure whether I should say.”

“Well, now you have to say it. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

My lips thin with a wide smile. “If you must know,” I begin, drawing it out in a dramatic pause. “Big Al sounds phallic. Like we’re talking about your... you know. Your private first class.”

His laugh is big and loud. Rich like velvet.

I love it.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he coughs out.

Through laughs of my own, I sputter, “You wanted to know. Hope you’re happy.”

“That was great.” He slaps his hand twice on the bed like he’s trying to clap quietly. “But no, Maddie. That’s not where the nickname came from. If it had been the origin, I’d probably be called Little Al.”

We laugh together until my cheeks hurt—with happy pains this time instead of the sting of a fist or burn of a backhand. That’s a welcome change.

As the moments pass, I begin to feel... the stirrings of contentment. Pure and simple. Like seeds have sprouted deep in the darkness of my soul. Being away from Travis—separated by what I hope is at least ten states—is doing wonders for my spirit. Seeing my son helped too.

And now my unexpected new friend.

I tuck the extra pillows around me as if I’m building a wall to protect myself. From what? I don’t know.

Certainly not this man in the bed next to me. A man who dropped everything at a moment’s notice to bring my son up to the diner on his day off. A man who insisted on paying for the motel and was prepared to protect me all night long from his perch on the cold concrete in the middle of a Georgia winter. A man who has saved my son’s life.

Alan’s a good man.

So what am I afraid of?

My husband’s face flashes through my mind. There’s the answer.

I’m terrified of him walking through that door. Finding me here, with another man, and brutally making me pay for daring to leave him.

This time, when the tears come, I remind myself to stay quiet. I’d rather my new friend not know how broken I am on the inside. There was no hiding the outside. But the inside is mine to reveal or protect.

I pull a pillow in front of my chest, choosing the only shield I have access to right now.

Protecting myself from the burgeoning feelings for the man a few feet away. And anything else that means to harm me.