Page 37 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

“And you still wanna go out?”

I know what he’s really asking. Do I want to go out in public after what’s happened? “Yes. And I might not even wear my wig.”

The beginning of a smile settles across his face. “You’re feeling frisky, huh?”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. Except mad. Really fucking mad.”

“What’s your gut telling you to do about that?”

“I never know what my gut’s telling me.”

“Yeah, you do. What’s the first thing that came to mind when I asked you about it?”

I cock my head. “Is the first thing that comes to mind really my gut talking because I’m pretty sure if I did the first thing, I’d have no career tomorrow.”

He takes a moment to answer, figuring out his reply, and I really like that he doesn’t ever just offer easy answers or platitudes. That he respects me enough to sit with the complexity of a problem and help me find my way through. “Trust me, I get self-doubt. I’ve dedicated enough of my life to entertaining it. And at times, I’ve let it run the show.” He pauses, his gaze intensifying, telling me that what he’s about to say next is important. “None of those times ended well.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken consequences. And while I wonder all the ways it didn’t end well for him, I know he’s right because I’m in the mess I’m in because I’ve given into my doubt over the years.

He taps his head. “It’ll keep you stuck here rather than here,” he shifts his hand to his heart. “And here is where you want to lead from. Your head can play catch up and figure it all out later.”

When I don’t say anything, he encourages me. “Say it, Maddie. You don’t have to do it, but just say the words out loud and see how they feel.”

My throat squeezes and my heart pounds even just thinking these thoughts. “I want to tell the world who Tucker really is. No, scratch that. I just want to tell the world who I am. Who I really am. But sharing that truth involves him and that feels scary.”

“Invite the chaos in, Miller. Nothing changes without it.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for everything to change,” I whisper, struggling to push the words past the lump in my throat.

“There’s no rush. You can take your time with this.”

He has no idea about my world. “I don’t have that kind of freedom, Ethan. I need to make a statement, and soon.”

“Who made that rule?”

“The world. My fans won’t still be there if I don’t get on top of this. I’ve given myself three days off, and now it really is time to get back to work.”

“I think you’re letting fear make the rules.” His phone rings again and he gives me a regretful look. “Sorry, this is time sensitive.”

While he’s on the phone, I find a dress to wear to dinner and go into the bathroom to change. I spend ten minutes fixing my hair and makeup while thinking about everything Ethan said.

I want to share my truth. I really do. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that and face the consequences. I’m in the middle of those thoughts when a memory from my childhood comes to me. A memory of my mother making a hard decision a year after my father died.

We were dirt poor, living in a tiny trailer, and she was struggling to put food on the table after using hers and Dad’s life savings to get us through that first year without him. She was offered a job that paid well. Too well. She seemed conflicted over that. I’d overheard a phone call she’d had with the man offering her the job and she’d told him there was no way she’d ever do what he’d asked her to do. Not even for the kind of money he was trying to throw at her. She’d told him she had more integrity than that.

I don’t know what the job was. All I know is that my mother then went on to work two jobs to feed us. Times were often hard, and she was exhausted, but she kept a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and food on our table, all without compromising her values or betraying herself. She refused to let go of who she was, even when it would have been easier to do so.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten that I always wanted to be like my mother. Ethan’s right: I’ve let fear rule my choices.

I may not be ready for everything in my life to change, but I can’t go on not being true to myself. I reach for my phone and open Instagram, and with shaky hands I invite chaos in by posting the photo Ethan took of me today and speaking from my heart.

@madelinemontana

When you discover that the man you were going to marry has been cheating on you for the entirety of your relationship, you bet your ass you leave that relationship. And then, after he fails to stand up like a real man and own half the responsibility for making a baby and choosing not to have it, you bet your ass you get loud and start telling your truth. And to all the women out there who have stayed silent for too long, who have had to make damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t choices, who have let someone push them down, I invite you to join me #getfuckingloud

I tap the words out faster than I’ve ever written any post and hit share. I don’t second-guess myself and I don’t hesitate. I’m fucking angry and I’m done with being controlled and manipulated.

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