3. Madison

3

MADISON

I stuff my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment before taking my seat against the window. I’m a mess and have been since I left Jenna yesterday evening. I know she’s in good hands, but I know I should be there with her instead of traveling out of state to help my brother. The same brother that only calls me when he needs something, and I swear he barely even remembered me the last time I saw him. I’m going to help him this one last time, and then I’m going to try and get him into rehab again. If he says no, I’m done. I have to be.

With that decision made, I clench my hands together in my lap and lean my head back on the seat. The sounds of people boarding and opening and closing the bins overhead fill the air. I try to tune it all out and take deep, soothing breaths. I’m glad I have until tomorrow before I have to meet up with the man Ethan owes. I need more time to prepare.

Someone sits down in the seat next to mine, and all my senses are on high alert. I recognize that smell. I take a deep breath, and the scent of masculine and woodsy aroma fills my nostrils. Don’t look, don’t look , I tell myself, but I don’t listen. I open one eye just to peek at the seat next to me, and my eyes pop open when I see my best friend’s brother in the seat next to mine. “John! What are you doing here?”

He’s huge, and his broad shoulders are up against mine when he pulls the seatbelt around his waist. “I’m going to Florida.”

He says it so nonchalantly I first think it’s a coincidence. Surely, Jenna did not send him to go with me. I shake my head. I didn’t even tell her where I was going. “Uh, I’m surprised you’re leaving. Jenna’s due any day.”

He turns and looks at me, his gaze calculating, and I know he’s up to something. “I could say the same thing about you.”

I wrap my hand around the hand rest. “Look, I don’t need you to make me feel guilty. I feel guilty enough on my own.”

“So why are you doing it?”

The crew is preparing for takeoff, and the flight attendant is standing in the front going through all the safety motions. I whisper to John, “Because I’m afraid if I don’t, my brother will be dead by tomorrow night and then I’ll have that guilt to deal with. I was willing to leave Jenna because I knew you and Dylan would be with her.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. The pilot’s voice comes through the speakers, and he talks about the sunny and beautiful weather of Florida and says the flight will be an hour and twenty minutes. My mind is racing, and I grab on to John’s hand. There’s a jolt all the way up my arm, but I ignore it. I’ve felt it before. Heck, my whole body reacts just from being around him. I’ve learned to hide my reactions. “Please, please, please tell me that Jenna did not send you to go with me.” I bite on to my lower lip and before he can respond, I know the answer. Of course she did. That’s exactly what Jenna would do.

“She asked me if I would come to make sure you’re okay.”

I grab the belt at his waist. “Get off the plane, John. You can’t go. You need to stay here.”

He grabs my hands and holds both of them in his. “The only way I’m getting off this plane is if you’re getting off too.”

I should. I know I should, and there’s a big part of me that wants to do just that. But I shake my head. “I can’t.”

He squeezes my hands and releases them before sitting back in his seat and laying his head back. The plane starts to move, and I gasp. I look out the window and feel nauseous watching the scenery outside going by. I slam the little window covering shut and lean my head back. My whole body is tensed up.

“Are you okay?”

I don’t even try to open my eyes. I just shake my head.

“Are you afraid to fly?” John asks.

I want to say something smart. That’s how I usually deal with my attraction to him, but right now, I don’t have it in me. “I’m fine,” I tell him through gritted teeth.

He reaches for my hand, peeling it off the hand rest and pulling it over into his lap. He threads his fingers through mine, and with his other hand, he trails his fingers back and forth across my wrist. Now instead of the loudness of the tires on the pavement and the rattle of the compartments inside the plane, I’m concentrating on John’s touch. I don’t even notice that we’ve taken off until I feel a small dip in my belly and know we’re in the air. But even when I start to relax, he doesn’t stop. He keeps holding on to me. I take small breaths and try not to make any sudden movements. I’ve imagined holding hands with John at least a million times, but the fantasy doesn’t even compare to real life. I feel protected, and it’s a foreign feeling for me.

I open my eyes and look at him, wanting to just look at him. I’m surprised to see him watching me.

“Better?” he asks.

I want to say no because I don’t want him to let go, but I just nod my head. “Yeah, I’m good.” I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it tighter. I look at him questioningly, but he doesn’t answer me. He just shrugs his shoulders.

His other hand continues tracing the tattoo on my wrist. “I like your tattoo,” he says.

I smile. I’d never tell him, but when I got the tattoo, I was thinking of him. Of course, I’m always thinking of him. Too bad he’s always just looked at me as if I’m his sister’s pesky little friend. “Thanks.”

He continues talking as he stares at the black ink on my skin. “I remember when you got this. You had been dating that punk, and you were so upset when you found out he was going out with someone else at the same time.”

“Ugh, do we have to talk about it?”

He smirks. “Remember the next day he was sporting that black eye.”

I start to nod and then gasp. “John, was that you?”

He shrugs. “He hurt you. He deserved it.”

I’m speechless as I think about that day way back when. I remember going over to Jenna’s house, crying my eyes out. Her mom made us hot fudge sundaes, and we stayed up all night talking. John was only there for a little while, and he didn’t say much to me and left shortly after I got there. “You did that... for me?”

His eyes go back to my wrist. “I care about you. I hated to see you so upset like that.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, after you got the tattoo, I liked it so much, I went and got one too.”

My heart is hammering in my chest. Maybe it’s being this close to him, maybe it’s finally feeling his hands on me, I don’t know, but I like it. And then it clicks. “Wait, you got a tattoo like mine? Where? I want to see it.”

I’m already searching his arms and neck. He has so many tattoos, I could just look at them all day. He lifts the sleeve of his T-shirt and shows me his bicep. Right there is an exact replica of my tattoo. I don’t even try to stop myself. I reach out with my left hand and trace the words, You are enough.

“John, I don’t—" I stutter, trying to figure it out. He’s always been full of confidence. It doesn’t make sense. “I don’t understand. Why?”

He pulls his sleeve down, and his face scrunches up. I begin to wonder if he’s going to answer me when he shrugs his shoulders.

I lean back in my chair, and this time, I do pull my hand away from his. “It’s just, I got that because he made me feel like I wasn’t enough... I needed that reminder.”

He clears his throat and is looking straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of us. “There’s times I don’t feel that I’m enough, Madison. Maybe I needed the reminder too.”

His words hit me right in the chest, and I don’t even know what to do with that. I can’t imagine John ever feeling that way. I slide my hand up and down my thigh before resting it on my knee. “I don’t know... I guess I’m surprised is all. I can’t imagine anyone ever thinking you’re not enough. You’re smart, a good brother, a good friend, you work, you’re handsome—"

He cuts me off, and his head whips around to me. “You think I’m handsome?”

I can feel my face flush. I try to play it off and roll my eyes. “You know you’re sexy, John.”

He smirks then, and I slap my hand across my mouth. It’s one thing to admit he’s handsome, but I just straight-up called him sexy. I pull my hand away. “I mean... obviously you know you’re good-looking. You have women falling all over you all the time.”

He looks almost disgusted. “They do not.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes. I lean toward him to whisper, “Look across the aisle.”

He turns his head, and we both look at the woman openly staring at John. He gets a lot of looks anyway. A man with that many tattoos is obviously going to get looked at. But this woman is obviously interested in him. I giggle. “See, I told you so.”

He picks up my hand again, threading our fingers together and bringing it back to his lap. He gestures at our intertwined hands to the woman, and when she looks away, he says, “Yeah, women look at me, but never the woman I want.”

I want to ask him about it, but he lays his head back and closes his eyes. I should pull my hand back, but I don’t. We ride most of the trip hand in hand, and I try not to think about some woman that John’s obviously given his heart to.