Chapter Twenty-Nine

The noise of little footsteps and squeals disrupts my peaceful slumber. And not a moment later, I can hear Lily's ecstatic voice floundering about the room, bouncing from one wall to the other.

"Maxie?" Her face peeks around the bedroom door, her tiny body squeezing through the gap.

I blink my eyes open as the sight of her offers me a warm reprieve. She's perched on the edge of the bed, both eyes sparkling with a half-eaten sugar cookie clutched in her hand. Crumbs cascade down to my chin as she smiles widely.

"It's Christmas Eve," she says, her tone surpassing something reminiscent of Tina Turner. "Isn't Santa coming tonight?"

In my best attempt to sound surprised, I stifle a yawn. "It is?" The truth is, I've completely lost track of time. As I glance at the clock, I'm quick to realize she's correct. "Oh yeah, it's four-thirty. He's probably somewhere over Europe right now."

Lily gasps, showering me with more cookie crumbs. I prop myself up against the headboard and unplug my watch.

"Why don't you go start writing your letter to Santa, sweetheart?"

She nods with a widening smile. "I was waiting to do that with you, silly," she affirms.

The tenderness of her words fills me with a bittersweet joy. This is our first Christmas Eve together, just the two of us. Usually, it would be Brogan sitting with her down at the kitchen island, helping her craft her wishes for Santa. The thought of her daddy brings a stinging pain, followed by the memories of Durango. And our shattered dreams in Vancouver. How long have I been asleep? What does Melanie think? Does Durango know I'm back?

Lily scampers out of the room, replaced by Melanie with a melody of fear, concern, and confusion playing on her visage. This is a look that sends a jolt of panic straight through me. I rub my eyes, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of last night. All I remember at this moment is stumbling into the bathroom, but the rest is a complete blur.

Melanie's tone is dripping with sarcasm. "Ohhh, got a bit of a headache, do ya?"

Fucking ouch. She knows.

Another yawn escapes my lips, followed by a sigh. "What happened? I mean—" I stammer. "I know what happened, and I feel awful—but I lost it—he's gone—oh Mel—" my plea sounds more like a word salad. Tears well up in my eyes, all the while burying my face in my hands.

"So you remember trashing the room, breaking the window, wishing Durango a ‘Merry fucking Christmas' too?"

Her recollection of events could only be some cliff notes version from Durango himself. Alas, I wince in shame and regret. "Oh God, you know about everything?"

Not only did I throw away a decade of sobriety, but I made a complete ass of myself. And now Melanie knows every detail. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

She reaches out for my tears, wiping them away with her fingers. "I'm disappointed," she affirms with a solemn tone. "But this isn't anything that can't be repaired."

I look at her quietly. "Even my dead husband's broken heart?" Those words sound ridiculous even to me.

Melanie nods, whispering low. "Yeah, I know about that, too. But I'm willing to bet it's not broken."

Her recounting everything that happened returns a feeling of horror, as every bone in my body shivers in utter shame. I listen, mortified, as she tells me how worried she was when Durango's brother showed up for Gage, completely oblivious to the chaos that had unfolded. I'm thankful Lily Bean was asleep, shielded from the ugliness I unleashed.

But this guilt is crushing me by the minute. I barely remember anything after that first drink. Melanie tells me about her frantic calls and texts, her fear that I'd done something reckless. Perhaps even something far more dangerous than entertaining my demons. Then, her respite when the cab driver finally dropped me off as I stumbled around, confused and slurring my words.

"He told me he wasn't even supposed to take you home," she claims with disbelief. "You were so drunk, it was a liability for the company."

All the shame from earlier sinks back into my chest, hotter than flames. I can't believe I put my poor sister through that and forced her to deal with my drunken mess. I'm a failure. A true disappointment.

"Soo—" Melanie continues softly. "This will all get worked out. I'm confident, boo."

My heart is so heavy, I glance into her eyes. "How can you be so sure, Mellie? I fucked up. I have no idea how to fix this."

She extends her arms to envelop me in a tight hug. "Heyyyy, we'll get through this. All is not lost, I promise," she seems sure, rubbing my back sincerely as it penetrates the chill of my despair.

My words are a hollow reverberation of my shattered hope. "I don't know, sis. I just don't."

Melanie pulls back as her gaze searches mine. "Look, why don't you get a shower? Mom lands in less than an hour."

I nod, grateful for the distraction. "Can you pick up some Pepto and electrolytes on the way home?" My stomach is a churning mess, reminding me that this is purely a self-inflicted punishment.

"I'll bring Lily too," she offers. "So you can shower and gather yourself," she adds softly, but the underlying strength is unmistakable. "I love you, Max. It'll be okay, you'll see."

My body aches with the aftermath of my bender as I rise from the bed. "One day at a time," I recite, the same old mantra leaving a bitter taste of bile on my tongue. "All the fuck over again."

As Melanie leaves to retrieve Mom from the airport, I saunter into the bathroom. The hot water offers me a sweet, temporary relief from the icy dread clinging to me. I have a lot of thinking to do. Many decisions to make. Mel's probably right. Perhaps this isn't the end.

Stepping from the shower, I catch my reflection in the mirror. It's a battered and bruised apparition, the darker version of myself I haven't seen for years. However, behind the haunting eyes, I see a flicker of determination. It's the same fire that ignited my recovery all those years ago. The same blaze that fueled my love for Brogan and Lily. It's time now to find that spark again, to rebuild myself from the ashes of this disaster.

A newfound resolve hardens as I turn away from the mirror. Albeit a painful one, this is a setback. But it's not the end. It's a new beginning, offering me a new opportunity to confront the shadows I've been running from and finally heal the wounds that have festered for so long.