Page 11 of Mad for Madison (The Boys of Hudson Burrow #4)

CHAPTER 10

A Family Night

Madison

After Luca and the company left, Bradley stayed with me. He could see I was nearly shaking with excitement, restless fingers trembling and the corners of my lips ticking up and down as I tried to hide the hopeful smiles.

That night, we made love like never before. I pulled every trick I could think of to make him weep with pleasure and joy for being the wonderful man that he was.

Without you , I thought, then stopped myself. I didn’t want to think about the universe in which I was without him. I didn’t want to think about my empty existence, my lonely life, and the hard shell that defined me before Bradley.

For days, the hopeful excitement lingered. It buzzed in my ears, tingled in my fingertips, and made me hold my breath anxiously at times when I let my thoughts run away from me.

Surprises caught me in the most mundane moments. I would remember Levi Bartlet’s encouraging words while shopping for groceries to fill up the cabinets in the Peeling Palace. I would freeze there, holding a box of cereals and daydreaming of exhibitions. And sometimes, when I walked along the Hudson River, waiting for Bradley to finish work, I would catch myself picturing my old age. A small house in Vermont, a canvas set up in an apple orchard, Bradley sitting in a recliner with his iced tea, a paint-loaded brush in my hand. We’re happy in that life , I would think. We’re happy and old and with a wealth of memories. Lily colonized Mars and was digging up fossils. Our friends scattered around the world for a time but returned to the Burrow in the end, and we need to hurry up to meet them.

Then, I would blink myself back to the present, and I would realize that I was still a young guy on the verge of something like a real relationship. I was a toddler, stumbling around, thinking I could walk. But Bradley was there. He gave me balance.

I would see him later, taking off his apron, kissing Mama Viv on the cheek after a long and fruitful evening of work, noticing me by the door, and smiling to himself.

Life was good. It was going to get better, but it was good.

He was my anchor, my constant. And he didn’t even realize it.

One night, after another long shift at the restaurant, he met me back at the studio. His hair was damp from the cold drizzle outside, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the chill. He carried a bag of groceries, something warm and practical like soup and fresh bread, and greeted me with a kiss on the forehead.

“How’s my artist?” he asked, his voice low and familiar, like it belonged here more than the creak of the old couch or the hum of the radiator.

“Still figuring things out,” I admitted, glancing at the canvases scattered across the studio. Some were bold and chaotic, others more restrained, as if I hadn’t fully decided what I wanted to say.

“Well, if you’re stuck, I brought bribes,” he teased, holding up the bag.

I smiled, setting aside my brush to meet him by the kitchen counter. It wasn’t much of a kitchen—just a sink, a hot plate, and a tiny fridge—but he made it feel like enough. Like everything I needed.

As we ate, he told me about his day, about Lily asking if stars could have feelings and Gran experimenting with a new recipe that nearly set off the smoke alarm. His life was so full, so rich, and yet he made space for me.

“You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Lily’s been asking when she can see you again.”

I hesitated, the idea filling me with both warmth and a strange kind of fear. “She really likes me, huh?”

“I think she really does,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

My throat tightened. “I don’t know if I’m…good at that. At being someone she looks up to.”

Bradley reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “You already are.”

The conviction in his voice silenced every protest in my head.

Later, after we’d cleaned up and the city outside had quieted, he sat with me on the couch, flipping through one of my sketchbooks. He paused on a page—one of Lily, her hair wild, her smile wide and free.

“You should show her this,” he said softly.

“Maybe,” I said, but my voice wavered.

He turned to me, his expression gentle. “You’re allowed to let people in, Madison. Even the small ones.”

The truth of his words settled in my chest, heavy and real. I nodded, leaning into his side. The things I hadn’t figured out yet could wait. For now, this was enough. He was enough.

Our dinner was overdue. I knew it was. It was my fault for dragging it out so long. It was already late February when I told Bradley I wanted to meet his grandmother. Even saying the words had made my voice quiver. It was crazy that I should be so much more nervous about meeting his grandmother than I had been about meeting Lily.

Kids loved you unconditionally. Kids didn’t judge. Besides, she was too little to understand, while Dorothy was someone who had protected both Bradley and Lily for years. She had every reason to be wary of me once I was there.

For that evening, I bought a nice bottle of sherry on Bradley’s recommendation. “She likes them sweet,” he’d said. I paced around the apartment, holding the bottle in one hand, trying to talk myself out of doing this. In Lane and Oakley’s room, something thumped, and Oakley let out a small cry.

I set the bottle on the table and hurried to their room, turning the knob and realizing what was happening a moment too late. The bedsheet was thankfully covering them when I entered the room, and both Lane and Oakley yelped in panic.

“Oh my god!” I froze in the doorway. “Fuck. Shit. Sorry.”

“Get out!” Oakley yelled back.

“Fuck,” Lane grunted.

I found the switch for my feet, turned it on, and successfully spun away from the sight of two mortal foes banging in Oakley’s bed.

My cheeks were redder than they should have been, given my relationship with sex. It was different when it was your friends who couldn’t stand each other, I figured.

The minutes that followed were torture, but Lane appeared after all. He wore his T-shirt inside out, having dressed in a hurry, and crossed his arms on his chest after shutting the door behind himself. “Do we need to talk about this?” he asked.

“I’m really fucking sorry,” I said. “I thought Oakley got hurt or something.”

“He most definitely didn’t get hurt,” Lane assured me.

There was a moment of silence. I debated it for a bit and decided to be frank. “Will he, though?”

“Will he what?”

“Get hurt?” I asked. Lane was a sporty guy, moving through many social circles and attracting a very good sort of attention. He was young and hot and mild-tempered, which probably meant he was in high demand. On the other hand, Oakley used his sarcasm and snappy attitude to deflect from his insecurities. This could be a disaster.

“Never,” Lane growled. “Not while I’m there.”

“Good.” Again, we were quiet. “He doesn’t want to see me?”

Lane shook his head, but a smile broke out despite his efforts to keep it away. The truth was, when five guys lived in a place as small as this, you saw stuff. The number of times Roman strolled from the bathroom to his bedroom with a towel in his hand rather than around his waist was impossible to count.

“He’ll be fine,” Lane assured me. “It’s just embarrassing.”

“It’s embarrassing for me,” I insisted. “Since when?”

“The blackout,” Lane said.

“Good for you,” I said. “Anyway. Sorry again. I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to knock.”

“Well, you learned something today,” Lane said.

We shared a smile, and he slipped back into the room, locking the door just to be safe.

I learned more than to knock on all the doors from now on. For as long as they had lived together, Lane and Oakley couldn’t stand one another. I’d always thought there was an undercurrent of attraction between them, but it had never been my place to point that out. If they could be together, what the hell was stopping me from taking the leap? I adored Bradley. He was responsible for every good thing in my life by the sheer fact of being in it. He was the reason I had the guts to hope for better things.

I grabbed the bottle off the table and marched out.

Bradley opened the door, and Lily ran after him. His smile was welcoming and warm, pouring courage into me. Lily’s was so big that it was impossible not to feel the sheer love and joy a child’s smile sparked in you. The overwhelming warmth that rose inside of me nearly made me drop the bottle.

Bradley gestured for me to come in, and Lily wrapped her arms around my waist, not letting me move. “Madison,” she said happily.

“Hello,” I said, handing the bottle of Bradley so I could kneel and hug Lily. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.”

“Daddy says we’ll go to Disneyland together,” Lily informed me.

I looked up at Bradley. “We will?”

“No,” Bradley said kindly. “Lily, I said that if you are good, I will take you to Disneyland this summer.”

“Can Madison come with us?” Lily asked.

Bradley and I exchanged a look, and he shrugged, barely holding it together. I could see his lips trembling with nervous laughter. “Of course I can,” I told Lily.

“I want to see Pluto,” Lily told me.

“Me too, kiddo,” I said. “Pluto’s the best.”

“Come inside,” a warm voice called from the hallway. A woman in her late sixties appeared behind Bradley. “Don’t just stand there in the hall.”

Dorothy wore an old-fashioned apron, but that was the only old-fashioned thing about her. She looked barely old enough to get a grandson, let alone a great-granddaughter.

Dorothy ushered us into their home, her presence commanding but warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs filled the air, wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. Bradley took my coat and Lily’s puffy jacket, hanging them neatly by the door, and then placed the bottle of wine I’d brought on the counter.

“Dorothy, this is Madison,” Bradley said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Madison, this is my Gran. She’s the real boss around here.”

Dorothy gave me a once-over, her sharp eyes softening into a welcoming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Madison. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hopefully, good things,” I said, earning a chuckle from Bradley.

“Only the best,” Dorothy assured me. “Now, come in and sit. Dinner’s almost ready, and Lily’s been talking about showing you her latest masterpiece.”

“Oh, it’s the best drawing I’ve ever done!” Lily declared, tugging at my hand to pull me toward the living room.

I followed her, marveling at the warmth of the space. Pictures of Lily, Bradley, and their family adorned the walls. A fireplace crackled softly, and a set of crayons and paper covered the coffee table.

Lily showed me her drawing—a vibrant, messy depiction of her and Bradley holding hands with what I guessed was Pluto beside them. “I think you captured Pluto perfectly,” I said sincerely, making her beam.

By the time we returned to the dining table, Dorothy had outdone herself. A roast chicken rested in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, buttered green beans, and warm rolls. Bradley was helping to pour water and wine while Dorothy placed a steaming dish of stuffing on the table.

“Come on, everyone,” Dorothy said. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

We settled in, and Dorothy served everyone, insisting I take seconds before I’d even finished my first plate.

“So, Madison,” Dorothy said as we ate, her voice kind but curious. “Are you planning on staying in the city for a while?”

I glanced at Bradley, whose eyes flickered with a quiet encouragement. “I think so,” I said. “There’s…a lot to stick around for.”

Bradley’s hand brushed against mine under the table, a silent agreement.

“Good,” Dorothy said with a satisfied nod. “We like having you around.”

Lily was a whirlwind of chatter, bouncing between telling me about her favorite cartoons and asking Dorothy about her plans for Christmas decorations. “Can we get more twinkly lights, Nana?” she asked with wide, hopeful eyes. Christmas was ten months away, but I guessed the lights had left a lasting impression on her.

Dorothy chuckled but took Lily seriously. “We’ll see, sweetheart. If your daddy helps me put them up, maybe.”

“Daddy’s not very good at twinkly lights,” Lily said seriously, and we all laughed.

“Hey now,” Bradley said, raising his hands in mock defense. “I’m perfectly good at lights. I just can’t compete with Nana’s ten-thousand-light extravaganza.”

“Maybe Madison can help,” Lily suggested, turning her attention to me.

I smiled, caught slightly off guard. “I’d be happy to.” I didn’t want to think if I would even be here when the time came.

As the plates emptied and everyone leaned back with that satisfied, post-meal glow, Lily suddenly looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “Madison,” she said, tilting her head, “are you and Daddy boyfriends?”

I froze, my fork hovering over my plate, while Dorothy coughed lightly into her napkin, clearly hiding a smile. I looked to Bradley, unsure how he’d respond, but he didn’t hesitate. He looked at me, tilting his head a little. “Lily’s friend has two moms.”

Lily nodded. “Maya says her moms love each other very much.”

“That’s right,” Bradley said. “And sometimes, two men can do the same. Madison and I are still figuring out if we’re going to be something like that. Does that make sense?”

Lily scrunched her nose in thought. “So…you might be boyfriends?”

“Maybe,” Bradley said, smiling warmly at her.

Lily seemed satisfied with this answer, but then her expression grew more serious. “I don’t have a mom,” she said matter-of-factly, “but dads are better anyway.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling over us.

Dorothy reached over and stroked Lily’s hair gently. “Your daddy loves you more than anything in the world,” she said softly.

“And so does Nana,” Bradley added, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the most important person in my life, Lily. You know that, right?”

Lily grinned, her earlier seriousness melting away. “I know, Daddy. And Madison loves me, too!”

I felt my chest tighten at her words. “I do,” I said, my voice a little shaky. “You’re a very easy person to love, Lily.”

She beamed, satisfied, and turned her attention back to her plate.

Bradley caught my eye across the table, his gaze filled with a warmth that made my heart race. There was so much unsaid between us, but in that moment, it didn’t need to be spoken.

Dorothy cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Well, Madison,” she said with a mischievous smile, “if you’re going to stick around, you’d better get used to this one. Lily has a knack for asking the big questions.”

I laughed, grateful for the lightness. “I think I can handle it,” I said, glancing at Lily, who was now engrossed in rearranging her mashed potatoes.

Bradley chuckled, his hand brushing mine under the table again. “Good,” he said softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

Dinner carried on, filled with stories and laughter. Lily’s questions and declarations peppered the conversation, and Dorothy’s sharp wit kept us all entertained. It was messy and imperfect and entirely wonderful—a glimpse into a life I hadn’t dared to imagine before.

And as the night went on, I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, I was ready to be a part of it. Only it required a great deal of pretending that I hadn’t been someone else up until a few short weeks ago.

“And what do you do, Madison?” Dorothy asked over a glass of sherry after Lily had already gone to bed—with great protest—and we retreated to the living room.

Tingles ran down my spine.

“He’s an artist, Gran,” Bradley said. “I told you.”

The ringing in my ears seemed to be passing. Or so I hoped.

“I just thought you had a day job,” Dorothy said. “I apologize.”

“No apologies are needed,” I said, my mouth dry. “I paint. It’s not making me a fortune yet.”

That provoked a soft laugh from Dorothy. She had nothing but encouragement for my work, but my ears were flooded with the sound of my terrified heart for the rest of the evening.

Bradley offered to see me out when the yawns cut through our chatter more often than not.

He walked me to the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The gesture was casual, but it grounded me, like a tether keeping me from drifting too far into the storm building inside. Dorothy’s kindness and Lily’s trust had been overwhelming in their sincerity, and I felt like an intruder in a life so full of light, love, and warmth. In someone else’s life altogether.

Outside, the drizzle had turned to a steady rain, cold and relentless. Bradley paused, pulling my coat tighter around me before handing me his umbrella. His fingers lingered on mine for a beat too long, and I forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the cracks forming beneath it.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I lied.

He nodded, his expression softening. “They really like you, you know. Gran, Lily—they see what I see.”

Those words hit like a punch to the gut, though they were meant as reassurance. What did he see? The version of me I’d carefully constructed for tonight or the one I couldn’t bear to look at in the mirror?

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the rain. “For everything.”

Bradley smiled, that warm, steady thing that had always made me feel safe. “Get home safe, okay? Call me when you’re there.”

I nodded, stepping back and turning toward the street. The rain blurred the edges of everything—streetlights, passing cars, my own thoughts. A gust of wind picked up, sending the rain sideways.

I swallowed the knot that had swelled in my throat. “I can’t do this,” I said, my voice barely louder than the growing lashes of wind and rain.

“I didn’t wanna be pushy,” Bradley said behind me. “But you’re welcome to stay the night.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said, turning to face him. It was the least I could do. But the moment my gaze found his warm eyes, the resolve in me wavered. “Bradley…” You’re too good for me , I thought. Those were the words I couldn’t say to him. He would never believe it. “I can’t…keep doing this.”

A sliver of concern crossed his face, but Bradley smoothed it, pretending not to understand. “What do you mean?”

“Please,” I whispered just as unstoppable tears brimmed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

Bradley’s forced calm lingered for a moment longer, then fell away, revealing a wounded expression that I almost couldn’t bear. His lips pursed, and he swallowed, all his muscles stiffening and his gaze cooling. “Say it.”

I had that coming. “Bradley, please…”

“Say it, Madison,” he insisted, his voice darker. “If you have something on your mind, say the damn words.”

My heart hammered in my chest, and I wished it would break. I wished it would shatter so I wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore. “I can’t keep lying,” I said, words ripping away from me.

Bradley’s upper lip curled, and he clenched his fists. The rain poured around us, sharp and relentless, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging in Bradley’s eyes. His hand fell away from mine, and the loss of his touch felt like the first crack of a dam about to burst. He stared at me, water dripping down his face, his features tight with confusion, anger, and something I couldn’t bear to name.

“Lying?” he repeated, his voice low and clipped. “To us? Or just to me?”

“To both of us,” I said, my voice barely audible over the downpour. The words scraped my throat on their way out, and I hated myself for saying them even as I knew I had to. “This…whatever this is between us—it’s not real, Bradley. It can’t be.”

Bradley flinched as if I’d struck him. He took a step back, his hands clenching at his sides. “Not real? You’re telling me the way you look at Lily isn’t real? The way you kiss me? The way you hold me when you think I’m asleep? That’s all fake?”

“I don’t know,” I said desperately, my voice rising. “Maybe it is! Maybe I’m just pretending to be the person you think I am. Maybe I don’t even know who that is anymore!”

Bradley’s laugh was sharp and bitter, cutting through the sound of the rain. “You’re full of shit, Madison. Don’t stand there and act like you don’t care. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel something for me—something for Lily. You’re just scared, and instead of dealing with it, you’re running away.”

“Because that’s all I know how to do!” I shouted, the words exploding out of me. “You don’t get it, Bradley. You don’t know what it’s like to live your whole life feeling like a fraud, like every good thing you touch is just waiting to be ruined because of who you are!”

Bradley took another step back, his chest heaving, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to hold himself together. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to be scared? To feel like I’m not good enough? Every damn day, I wake up wondering if I’m doing right by Lily, if I’m giving her the life she deserves. But you know what I don’t do, Madison? I don’t fucking give up.”

His words landed like blows, and I felt my knees weaken. “This isn’t about giving up,” I said, my voice breaking. “This is about not dragging you and Lily into my mess. I can’t be what you need me to be, Bradley. I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, his voice raw. “You’ve been enough from the moment you walked into our lives. You just don’t want to believe it because it’s easier to push us away than to take a damn chance.”

I shook my head, tears mixing with the rain as they streaked down my face. “I’m doing this for you,” I whispered, my words trembling. “You and Lily deserve better.”

“And who decides that, huh?” Bradley’s voice cracked, and he looked at me, his eyes glistening with something that shattered me. “You? You don’t get to decide what’s better for us. You don’t get to take yourself away from us like you’re doing us a favor.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely holding steady. “I’m so sorry, Bradley. But I can’t—I can’t stay.”

Bradley’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he fought for control. “Fine,” he said, his voice cold now, distant. “You want to leave? Go. But don’t you dare pretend this is for me or for Lily. You’re doing this because you’re too much of a coward to try.”

The word struck deep, cutting through my chest like a blade. I opened my mouth to respond, to fight back, but nothing came. I was empty. I was nothing, lost in a vast abyss.

Bradley shook his head, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the moment had finally crushed him. “I thought you were different,” he said quietly, the words more to himself than to me. Then, without another word, he turned and walked back inside the building, his figure blurred by the rain.

I stood there, soaked and shivering, watching him go. My legs felt rooted to the ground, and my heart screamed at me to run after him, to tell him I’d made a mistake. But my feet didn’t move, and the door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

The rain fell harder, chilling me to the bone as I finally turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last, his umbrella dragging behind me, forgotten. I told myself this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But with every step, I felt myself breaking, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.