Page 119 of The Quit List
I wrap my sister in a hug. “Missed you, Mads. Where’s Seb?”
“He’s showering; just got back from practice. Coffee?”
“Definitely.” More caffeine sounds perfect right now.
We’ve barely seen each other lately with everything going on, and I want my sister to know that I’m here for her, whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. Because all I want is to be that guy for all the people I love, whatever Willan may think.
After Maddie fixes a cup of coffee for me and a peppermint tea for herself, we go outside and sit on the balcony, drinking in the morning sunshine. Of course, there’s also the blaring traffic noise from below—their place is in the heart of downtown, near the RGM arena that’s home to the Cyclones. It reminds me again why I love the wilderness: the peace, the quiet, the lack of beeping horns.
“You guys thinking of moving after the baby gets here?”
She shakes her head. “No. Or not right away, anyhow. We thought about it, but then, we realized that not everything has to change at once. We’re lucky to have such a spacious apartment, and we can see how we feel as the baby gets bigger.”
I take a drink of coffee. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
She laughs. “Mom lost it when I told her. You should’ve heard.” She puts on a high-pitched voice as she continues, “An apartment in the city is no place for a baby, Madelyn! That baby will be roaming the streets and addicted to meth before you know it!”
Her impression is so uncanny, I can’t help but laugh. “Meanwhile, my dad will probably buy the baby books on how to make their first million by the time they’re out of diapers.”
“Along with a tiny pint-sized suit and briefcase.” She then taps her fingers on her mug as she peers at me curiously. “Have you talked to your dad lately?”
“I do my best never to talk to him, if I can help it.” I pull a face. “You know, the majority of my hesitation to be your kid’s godfather was because of him.”
She rolls her eyes. “As if you’re anything like your father, Jax. You’ll be a way better godfather to my baby than your dad was a father to us.”
And suddenly—despite the coffee—I feel tired. Weighed down with the thoughts that have occupied my mind since running into Dylan. I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the stress from my first booking arriving later today, but my deepest fears are creeping back into the corners of my mind, gathering like cobwebs. Which may be why I find myself saying, “I’m scared of failing. Of letting you and the baby down. Of not being the right choice for this kid’s godfather.”
My throat feels tight as I frown down into my coffee.
Maddie, meanwhile, laughs. Laughs.
“Newsflash, Jax: you’ll screw up sometimes, sure. We all do, it’s inevitable. The important thing is not whether you fail or succeed, it’s what you do with both your failures and successes. How you let them shape you.” She places a gentle hand on my arm so I have to look up at her. “And you’re nothing like your father, because unlike him, you have a moral compass. You care about people other than yourself, put other people’s needs before yours, where your dad was always selfish.”
“I am selfish,” I say quietly. “I’m chasing my dreams instead of staying here in Atlanta to be here for you and my godchild.”
And I’m potentially asking way too much of Holly to enter into a relationship where I can’t physically put her first all the time.
“But of course you should! You should chase your own dreams, because that’s what your niece or nephew is going to see in you. What will inspire them to chase their own dreams.”
“I just… I want to always show up for the people that matter to me,” I say gruffly.
“Listen, being there for someone doesn't mean being physically present 24/7,” Maddie says with a wave of her arm. “Look at Seb—traveling is part of his job, he’s gone all the time. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t there for me. Because being there for someone is showing up when it matters. And that, you always do.”
My frown deepens. I can’t bring myself to look my sister in the eyes.
“Even if you don’t see that in yourself, you’re good, Jax.” She puts her hand on my arm and squeezes. “You’re worthy of being loved and of loving other people. You’re enough, exactly as you are.”
I have no idea what to say as my mind tumbles back to the moment my six-year-old self watched his mother walk out the door and never come back. How that little boy internalized that she left because he wasn’t enough to make her stay.
That, despite how much he loved her, she didn’t love him enough.
And then, on the flipside, I spent the rest of my childhood watching Maddie’s mom—my stepmom—stay, year after year, affair after affair, even though there was clearly no real love between her and my father.
My childhood gave me a warped view of love. Made it look and feel like something ugly. Dangerous. Something that hurt and was better avoided.
And I avoided it for so long because I felt, deep down, like I was either never going to be enough for someone, or that I’d fail that person and make them unhappy if they stayed with me.
A let down.