Page 94 of The Love We Make

But there she was, and I had confessed my 12-year-old crush and instinct was telling me to kiss her. Maybe I should have, but something felt wrong and off.

Why did something so wrong, feel so right? It didn’t make sense.

“Why are you so sad, Maddy?” What caused her to be so emotional?

“I…” she started.

“Ethan Jones, get your ass over here right now!”

Mom.

Geez, she had the worst timing.

I looked back to see where she was. She was standing along the road and must have seen us from the window of our house. I was busted. Now that she knew I was home, she wouldn’t leave me alone until I acknowledged her.

“Coming!” I yelled back and turned to Madison, who was laughing.

“Did you not tell your mom you were coming?”

“I didn’t tell anyone but Coach.”

“You are in so much trouble,” she smiled. She started shaking her head and tsking me.

“Wanna come with me? Protect me?”

“No way. Go hug your mom. Leave me out of it.”

The sun was setting over the lake and she looked like an angel with the halo of the sun around her. I tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled.

“Meet me back here? In an hour?”

She was nodding and biting her lip. “Yeah, ok.”

“Ok,” I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt it in my gut that we were going to be ok. Friends, more than friends, it didn’t matter anymore.

We were going to be ok.

???

I walked up the porch with my mom and prepared myself for the pepper of questions I knew she would ask. She motioned to the porch swing and sat beside me.

“Did I interrupt?” She asked, motioning to where Madison was walking across her yard to the house.

“Yes,” I said curtly.

“Good,” she retorted and huffed. She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head in dismay. “What the hell are you doing here, Ethan? Your dad is in there getting ready to watch you pitch here pretty soon on the TV and I look out and see you across the street.”

I stayed silent.

The fact that I was even there during the season was enough to get her suspicions up. But on a day I had to pitch? She was downright worried.

“Why in God’s name did you fly all the way home, without even taking time to call your momma mind you, on a day you are supposed to pitch?” She urged.

I took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the ceiling of the porch. I noted the spider web in the corner and thought about how poignant it was being there. A web was exactly what it felt like we had weaved.

I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about me and Madison. Especially our parents. They would probably think we were gross or incestuous. They would probably scold us for being ignorant and irresponsible.

Telling my mom was a deal-breaker and a risk. And I had no intention of telling her the entire truth.