Page 67 of Taming the CEO

Maddox

––––––––

The roads were finally cleared enough by the early evening to be drivable. I headed to Boston right away. My brothers had already stopped by our grandparents' house to check that they were okay, but I decided to head there as well instead of going home.

When I arrived in front of their house, I noticed Leo's and Nick's cars were in front. I hadn't realized they were still here. The house itself looked in top shape, so maybe the storm hadn't really done too much damage to their neighborhood. There was some debris on the streets, but not enough to worry me. Boston had gotten a bit of snow, too, but far less than Essex.

I knocked at the front door and waited a few seconds.

Leo's voice rang out behind it. “That's Maddox. Let’s see what he’s been up to.”

I laughed to myself. My brothers had kept asking where I was when I'd told them I couldn't stop by my grandparents' place yesterday and today. I'd said I was away with business.

Stuff like that never flew with my family. One simply couldn't give them vague answers and expect them to be okay with it.

The door swung open, and Leo looked me up and down.

"Good. You're not dead." There was no trace of smile on his face.

My brothers had indeed jumped to conclusions—just not the ones I'd thought.

"I told you I’m fine."

"Would it have killed you to tell us exactly where you were?"

I hadn't realized they'd been worrying about me.

“Nothing happened to me. I only just got back to the city.”

Nick came into the corridor, folding his arms over his chest. "See, told you not to get your panties in a twist."

"What are you boys talking about?" Gran called loudly.

Nick looked over his shoulder, peering inside the living room. “Leo had this idea that Maddox wasn't telling us where he was because he got caught in the storm or something. Yet here he is, well, looking the same as usual.”

"You boys have wild imaginations," Gran said. “He would have told us if something was wrong.”

I absolutely wouldn't, but it was good to know that our grandparents hadn't worried unnecessarily.

"Thanks for looking after them," I told my brothers, keeping my voice neutral as we all walked into the living room.

The house smelled delicious, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

Granddad was sitting with his tablet, probably reading the newspaper, as usual. One of my earliest memories of him was watching as he drank his evening brandy with the day's newspaper. He insisted that he never liked to read the newspaper first thing in the morning because it would just pollute his brain with unnecessary information. He preferred to read it toward the end of the day as entertainment. I'd asked him if world news wasn't relevant to business, and he'd said, "It is, but not as much as people think."

If something was important enough, the management team would bring it up. But most news didn't have a direct impact on running a day-to-day business. Hence why he considered it a pollutant.

He scrutinized me before saying, "We've already told your brothers nothing happened. We didn't even have a power outage. And anyway, I check the generator routinely. You didn't have to come by to—”

“Nonsense, I like having my boys here." Gran beamed at us. "I've got pizza in the oven."

So that's what the smell is.

She'd made it the first time we came to their house, years ago.

"I've made pizza. No one fights over pizza," she’d explained.

Gran had been right. We hadn't fought—but it had been awkward as hell. Mom was with us, and it was even weirder for her than for us. But she'd powered through for us kids.

---