“Relapse?”
I sighed. No point in denying it any longer. “I’m a drunk, Abby. My parents invoked the last resort of tough love. I was pretty out of control.”
“My mom’s a drunk, too. I remember when she tried so hard not to be.”
“She couldn’t kick it?”
“Not alone, and she’s too proud to ask for help.”
I looked down at the ground, kicking at the uneven sidewalk with my boots. “I don’t deserve Fin’s help. I don’t deserve anyone’s help.”
“Did Tyler tell you about Travis and me?”
“Not a lot.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing back at the house. “I was sure he was wrong for me. My family was worse than dysfunctional. My father nearly got me killed. I pushed Travis away, thinking he was bad for me, and then I pushed him away again, thinking I was bad for him. Turns out, when I finally let him in, all the bullshit fell away, and we could just be good together.”
“I’ve known all along I was bad for Tyler. He won’t listen.”
“When a Maddox boy falls in love, he loves forever…” Abby mused.
“What?”
“If he’s in love with you—and just the fact that you’re here tells me he is—he’s not going to give up on you. I can see that you care about him.”
I nodded. “He’s a good friend.”
She narrowed her eyes. Her radar was going off. “Right.”
“I do,” I blurted out. “I care about him. I might even … I feel guilty that I can’t seem to let him in or let him go. Either way feels wrong.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Abby said without hesitation. “But your sister is right. You don’t love yourself right now. That’s why you can’t get things right with Tyler. That’s why you don’t want to.”
I breathed out a frustrated laugh. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll make you one. But if I were you, I’d take all the help I could get if it meant happiness was on the other side. And believe me … these boys … when they’re happy? It’s like living in a fairy tale. They don’t know how to half-ass anything, and loving someone is no exception.”
The brothers stepped out onto the porch with Camille just as Marco pulled away from the curb. Tyler descended the steps and crossed the yard, hooking his arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Finley?” he asked.
“We’re good. I haven’t called. They were worried about me.”
He kissed my temple. “C’mon. You’re freezing.”
Tyler guided me inside with Abby trailing behind. Travis instantly hugged her and rubbed his hands along her upper arms. Then he cupped her hands and blew on them. They stared into each other’s eyes like they were privy to a secret. Suddenly, gross didn’t seem so bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tyler helped me with my coat, and then we settled in to watch documentaries on Netflix—Jim’s favorite pastime, apparently.
Tyler and I sat on the sofa next to Travis and Abby. Trent and Camille made a pallet on the floor and whispered while he drew on the palm of her hand with a Sharpie. Jim was sitting in his recliner, his eyes getting heavier by the minute.
I leaned in to Tyler’s ear. “Where’s Taylor?”
“On his way. He had to take care of some things, first.”
I nodded. “And the oldest? Is it Thomas?”
“Yeah, he was invited to his boss’s house this year. Couldn’t say no.”
I nodded again. Tyler relaxed back against the worn sofa cushion, resting his hand on my knee. No one bugged us about our ambiguous friendship like I worried they would. We all just sat around, spending time together in what seemed to be an uncharacteristically peaceful Maddox moment.
Just as the credits of our second documentary of the night began to roll, the front door swung open, and Taylor dropped his duffel bag.
“Wake up, dick heads! I’m home!”
Trent and Travis jumped up and immediately tackled their brother, all three of them falling outside onto the porch with a thud. After a few seconds of scuffle, Tyler sighed.
“I’ll be right back.”
He rushed over to aid his twin, and I winced a few times when I saw the grappling escalate.
With some effort, Jim pushed himself up from the chair, making his way to the door. “All right, all right! That’s enough!” He used his foot to poke at the writhing pile of Maddox boys, and then Travis finally broke out of the dog pile and began separating the others.
Abby shook her head, unfazed. Camille watched from the floor, not the least bit worried.
The boys walked in, breathing hard and chuckling, red blotches on their faces and arms. Trent used the back of his hand to dab his bleeding bottom lip, and Travis pointed at him and laughed.
“Don’t grab my nuts next time, dick licker,” Tyler said.
Camille went to the refrigerator and returned, giggling as she held a small ice pack covered in a dishtowel to Trent’s lip.
“God almighty,” Jim said, returning to his chair.
Travis didn’t seem to have a scratch on him, but Tyler limped to the sofa.