Unable to look at her, I wipe my palms on a cloth.The grime only spreads across my skin, stubborn and black.My gut tells me she already senses the truth—the words I’m choking back—but naming it might make her feel like she’s failing.
Since I came home, I’ve paid every bill and kept us afloat.In fact, I’ve been doing it since Dad died and the world as we knew it broke apart.
In a blink, I’m barely eighteen and losing my father all over again.Stepping up and doing what needs to be done is the least I can do.It’s penance for how I failed my family and, most of all, failed him.
“Mad, you’re doing more than enough.You came home.You’re living with Mom.I can’t let you do all the heavy lifting.”Her gaze flicks up to the warped shingles.“I hate the idea of selling, but?—”
“We aren’t.”I brush past her.“Dad built this house; it’s our home.Besides, living here saves me money.If I had my own place, I’d be paying rent or a mortgage.”
Katie narrows her eyes, seeing clean through me with her cut-the-crap expression.She probably only has a hunch, but she’d be right.What I’ve sunk into the repairs on the house these past few months would be a healthy down payment on a whole damn new house.
Her gaze searches mine.“There’s no mortgage on the house?”
“Nah.Dad paid that off.”The lie sits bitter on my tongue, sharp and wrong, but I swallow it anyway.
I paid off the mortgage not too long ago.My mother knows, but Katie doesn’t know the half of it.
Maybe I’m protecting her from the truth.Or maybe I’m protecting myself.I can’t drag Dad’s mistakes into the open.Not his and definitely not mine.
My stomach clenches as old regret claws at my insides—the way I so easily ignored everything my father stood for.I ignored the lessons he spent a lifetime ingraining in us.My selfishness cost him his life.I won’t let the financial mess he left behind rewrite who he was, not if I can help it.
The screen door groans open, and Mom leans out.“Dinner’s ready.”Her gaze drops to my hands, and her brows pinch.“Maddox, wash up before you come to the table.”
Katie snorts as I shake my head.“I intend to.”
Satisfied, she disappears back inside.
“I love how she says that like you were planning on eating with gutter sludge up to your wrists.”She bumps my shoulder.
“It’s something you’d do.”I lightly shove her on my way in.
She swats at me, laughing, as we enter the house.I cross to the sink, but before I even touch the faucet, Mom swoops in and turns it on, soap bottle already in her hand.“Hold them out.”
I do, letting her douse my palms.Her hands move with the quiet satisfaction of someone who has been waiting for an excuse to mother me all day.I scrub three times until the grime gives way to clean skin and raw knuckles.
“Hey.Something smells amazing.”Raf strolls into the kitchen.“What’re we having?”
“Pot roast.”Mom kisses his cheek as she passes with a bowl of mashed potatoes big enough to feed an army.
Katie wraps her arms around her husband.“Hi, honey.”
“Katie Rae, my beautiful.”He kisses her temple.
“Hey, Raf.”I grab a towel and dry my hands.As I pull away from the sink, the glint of water catches my attention.
Drip.Drip.Drip.
“Mom, when did this faucet start leaking?”
“Hmm?”She waves me toward the cutting board, where the roast waits with a knife and fork.“Cut the meat, Maddox.”
I nod and slice into the tender roast, trying to block out how each drip tugs at me.“Mom, the faucet.How long’s it been doing that?”
Guilt digs its heel in—I live here, too, and should notice these things before they become problems.
“I don’t know, dear.Maybe a month.”
The fork and knife clatter onto the board.“A month?Mom, why didn’t you say something?”My gut sinks.“That explains last month’s water bill.”