Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MADISON

Tears blur my vision as I round the car in the curbside drop-off zone at LAX. Saying goodbye to my friend is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It feels like my heart’s being ripped from my chest.

Once I reach Amanda on the curb, I pull her into a tight hug. She buries her face in my shoulder and wraps her arms around me.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” I murmur into her hair. “What will I do without my best friend and roommate?”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “Probably burn too many dinners.” She pulls back as I give a shaky laugh. “Promise you’ll come visit this summer?”

“Of course! Boston won’t know what hit it when we’re reunited.” I force a grin, trying to lighten the mood. But my smile fades as the guilt gnaws at my stomach.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” She wipes tears away with the back of her hand. “Thanks for being there for me.”

“Always.” But the word tastes sour on my tongue. Everything is so messed up. Amanda still doesn’t know the truth about Ryan and me.

A car honks impatiently behind us, and Amanda glances over her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Madds, but I really need to get going, or I’ll miss my flight.” She squeezes me one last time. “We’ll catch up soon, okay? I love you!”

“Love you too,” I choke out as she grabs her bags and disappears inside the terminal.

I stand there until she’s out of sight, the emptiness settling like a stone in my chest. I should’ve told her about Ryan months ago—after the Gala, after the emergency with Blake’s father—but I kept waiting for the “right” moment. It never came.

God, I’m an awful friend.

I trudge back to my car, already missing her. No more late-night pep talks, coffee shop meetups, or froyo runs after dinner. Next semester will feel like a ghost town without her.

The California sun beats down as I merge onto the highway. I crank the AC, wishing it could cool the storm brewing inside me. My phone pings an email alert. I ignore it and head toward my parents’ house.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m no calmer. I slump against the steering wheel before finally checking the notification. My stomach flips when I see the subject line—Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art, Young Artist Competition.

I open the email.

“Congratulations, Madison Grimes! Your submission has been selected as the winner of the Young Artists Competition. Your collection will be featured in our upcoming Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art exhibit. Details to follow soon. Congratulations!”

Holy shit. I actually won.

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up my throat. I can’t believe it! My hands itch to grab my phone and call Ryan. He’s the first person I want to share this news with.

But we haven’t spoken a word since the night of the Gala when I told him I needed time to think. The memory of his crestfallen face makes me wince. I thought he’d still reach out, but I guess asking for space was taken as a full stop.

My fault. I’m the asshole who left things up in the air. Sighing, I step out of the car and force myself to face the inevitable—my parents.

The mansion looms, a glittering facade wrapped in garlands and twinkling lights that feel as cold and sterile as the life waiting for me inside.

Each step toward the door feels like walking to the gallows.

God, I wish I had Ryan here with me. There isn’t any way my parents would agree to me seeing him, but I’m not much into caring what they think anymore. I’m done being the dutiful daughter and following the path laid out for me. But I’m also smart enough to know which battles to fight.

The fight with Ryan is on hold for now, no matter how much I miss him and his stupid big dick.

I approach the tall double doors, covered by oversized garland wreaths with white poinsettias dipped in gold glitter. More garland with twinkling white lights adorns the doorframe. It’s festive but certainly not welcoming. Not for me, anyway. I know what lies on the other side. For a moment, I contemplate turning around and leaving. But I have a purpose and won’t accomplish anything without talking to them first.

Stepping inside, I let the sterile, white walls greet me. Everything in this house screams cold, and the marble floors are no exception. But it feels different now, like a costume that no longer fits. This isn’t my home anymore, but I fear the apartment won’t be either with Amanda gone.

I close my eyes and take a few calming breaths, patting the shell buried inside my pocket. God, I could really use your encouragement right now, Ryan.

The click of my heels competes with the hushed voices from the living room. I’d turn around and leave if addressing school wasn’t so important. I just hate that the dread of facing my parents supersedes excitement over the contest. Dentistry is the only acceptable future in their eyes. And dropping that bomb to switch my major to art? Yeah, I may as well have told them I’d joined the circus with the way they took it.

I pause at the threshold and take in the scene before me. My parents sit on the plush sofa as if waiting for me. Mom glances at Dad and gives him a subtle nod. I suddenly get intervention vibes.

Well, here goes nothing.

I step into the room with my head held high. “Mom, Dad.”

“Maddy, come sit down,” Mom says, patting the armchair across from them. “Let’s talk.”

I perch on the edge of the cushion, pulse hammering against my ribcage. “What’s up?”

“Did you see Amanda off?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m surprised she had the funds to go home for both holidays this year.” My father’s voice is gruff. “I hope she isn’t depending on Blake’s money.”

I bite back a sharp retort, forcing myself to stay calm. “Amanda’s doing fine. She’s worked a lot of extra shifts.”

There’s no way I’m telling them her move back to Boston is permanent. He’d make me get another roommate, but that isn’t happening.

“Hmm.” Dad furrows his brow. “You two have been close for so long. I hope this doesn’t affect your focus on your studies.” He clears his throat pointedly. “Speaking of which...”

Here we go. I press my lips together, bracing for the lecture about my future in the thrilling world of molars and fillings. Inconvenient passions need not apply.

“Your mother and I were talking, and if dentistry truly isn’t for you, what about pharmacy? Or nursing? There are so many stable options in the medical field to consider.”

I shake my head slowly, digging my nails into my palms. “Actually, I have some news. Do you remember that art contest I entered a few months ago? I just found out I won.”

Mom’s eyes widen, but her smile seems forced. “Oh, Maddy, that’s … wonderful. But surely you understand, a contest is hardly a reliable indicator of a viable career path.”

“Your mother’s right.” Dad’s tone is measured but firm. “Art is a lovely hobby , but it’s not a practical choice for your future. Dentistry offers stability and a good income. It’s a respectable profession.”

I bite the inside of my mouth and count to ten before speaking. “I don’t want to be a dentist. Or a pharmacist or a nurse. I want to be an artist. It’s not just a hobby for me. It’s my passion. My calling.”

The words tumble out, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut. I’ve rehearsed this speech a thousand times, but facing their skeptical expressions is harder than I imagined.

“Sweetheart,” Mom begins, her tone placating. “We just want what’s best for you. A career in the arts … it’s so uncertain. You’re so bright; you could excel in any medical field.”

Dad nods, leaning forward in his armchair. “Think about your future, Maddy. A stable income, good benefits. You don’t want to struggle like so many artists do.”

Frustration simmers beneath my skin. Their well-meaning concern grates against my resolve. “I know it won’t be easy, but I will work hard for this. The contest—it’s a sign that I have what it takes.”

“Speaking of signs,” Dad says abruptly, his voice taking on a hard edge. “What’s this I hear about you still hanging with that Sorenson kid?”

My stomach drops, and the sudden change in topic throws me off balance. “What? How did you?—”

“I have my sources.” Dad’s jaw tightens, his gaze boring into me. “Is this why he keeps spending so much time with you? To pump information about the lawsuit?”

“It’s not like that,” I protest, my voice rising. “And his name is Ryan. The lawsuit—it’s about the accident. The one you caused.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation. Mom’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

“How dare you?” Dad growls, his face reddening. “We did what we had to do to protect our family. To protect you.”

“By lying? By letting an innocent man suffer the consequences?” I’m on my feet now, anger and hurt propelling me forward. “I heard you tell the supervisor to remove any request involving that ladder. You knew that ladder was unsafe, yet you threatened Mr. Sorenson’s job if he didn’t use it to clean the gutters.”

“Maddy, please,” Mom whispers, reaching for my hand. I jerk away, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“All these years, you let Mr. Sorenson think it was his fault. You let Ryan think his dad was to blame. How could you?”

Dad stands, his imposing frame looming over me. “We did what was necessary. And I won’t have you jeopardizing our family for some boy.”

“Ryan isn’t just ‘some boy’,” I snap, my voice trembling. “And this isn’t about him. It’s about what’s right. What’s true.”

“Did you honestly believe fifty thousand would be enough? Do you have any clue what medical bills they’ve accrued?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is when I’m in love with the son!”

The words hang in the air, and the room is silent for a moment. Dad’s eyes widen, and Mom gasps softly. I’m trembling, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. I can see the shock on their faces, but I don’t regret saying it.

“You’re what?” Dad says after a moment, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I’m in love with him,” I repeat defiantly, lifting my chin. “And maybe if you’d been honest about what happened with his dad from the start, things wouldn’t be so messy now.”

“You will stay away from that boy,” Dad says, pointing a finger at me. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Maybe if you were more concerned about what you were getting us into when you lied about Mr. Sorenson’s accident, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

I’m seething now, all the pent-up anger and hurt pouring out of me. My parents look taken aback by my outburst; they’re not used to this version of me, the one who stands up for herself and calls them out on their bullshit.

“Madison Grace Grimes,” Mom says sharply. She only uses my full name when she’s really angry or really scared—it’s hard to tell which one right now. “You will not speak to your father like that!”

“I will if he continues to lie and manipulate people to get what he wants!” My voice echoes around the room, ringing in my ears.

“I’m sure you’ve heard my deposition. It was damaging enough, even with the censored questions you somehow rigged. You make things right with the Sorensons, or else I’ll spill everything I know. You know they have a good case no matter how much evidence you’ve buried.”

I turn on my heel, striding towards the door. I can’t be here, can’t breathe in this house of secrets and lies.

“Madison Grace Grimes, don’t you walk away from us!” Dad’s voice booms behind me, but I don’t look back.

I need air. I need space. I need...

My phone vibrates in my pocket. With shaking hands, I pull it out, Ryan’s name flashing on the screen.

“Are you home?” The text reads, followed by another. “I’m outside.”