Page 99 of Beyond Oblivion

Hazel sat on the edge of the bed, folding her arms across her lap, her face softening with a kindness I didn’t see from her often. “Damn right you are,” she said, reaching over to pat my hand. “You know, that’s a Maddox baby. They’re built different. That little nugget was made to be a fighter.”

I snorted, but a part of me wanted to believe her. “Yeah, well, we’re not feeling so tough right now.”

Hazel leaned back, one eyebrow cocked. “Listen up, mama llama. You’re way tougher than you think. You married aMaddox. These things just… they’re not up to us, ya know? And whatever’s going on out there,” she said nodding to the bedroom door, “and Madison… also out of your hands. You have to let go and focus on what matters most. The days of taking on everything for everyone… they have to be over.”

Her words were comforting in their own Hazel way, but the hum of conversation in the other room grew louder, drawing our attention to the door. I could hear Travis’s voice cutting through the murmur, something aboutneeding to be more careful than ever nowandgetting this right.

“What’s that about?” Hazel asked. “What Trenton was screaming in Thomas’s face at Skin Deep?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to answer, the heaviness of the secret pressing down on my chest. “They should tell. But they won’t. They can’t.”

Before Hazel could say anything else, Liis slipped in, feigning a smile as if the fabric of our family wasn’t unraveling in the next room. “You two doing okay in here?”

“Fine,” I said quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. “Just… tired.”

Liis’s eyes lingered on me, full of understanding, before flicking back to the door as the voices outside escalated. She nodded to herself, righting her posture. “Excuse me. I need to jog their memory about who the real enemy is.”

Hazel smirked. “She’s gonna handle it, I can tell.”

Liis pulled the door closed, their words fading to a low, indistinct murmur. Even then, I could hear her voice slicing through the tension outside, firm and commanding. It was clear the Maddox brothers weren’t going to resolve anything tonight, but they’d try all the same. I knew their love for each other ran deep, but they were treading in unfamiliar waters, trying to find a balance between the bond they shared and their instinct to protect their wives.

Hazel sighed beside me, glancing toward the door. “Can you believe them? All this bravado bullshit, it’s like they think arguing over your hospital bed is the best way to show they care.”

I managed a weak laugh. “You know them. If they’re not fighting, they’re probably asleep.”

She shook her head. “Boys. Liis doesn’t sound like she’s making headway. I don’t think anyone inside the family circle is going to get this squashed tonight.”

“If you’re wondering if it’s time to work your foster kid peacemaker magic, then yeah,” I muttered, leaning back into the pillows.

With a heavy sigh, Hazel pushed herself up. “Fine. Looks like it’s time for the wicked stepsister to do what she does best—lay down the law.”

She stomped out of the room, the familiar sound of her voice punctuating the tension. “Listen up, idiots,” she started, authority in her tone. “You’re stressing out our girl, which is just selfish as fuck, you drooling boobs. You’re all so busy trying to be right that you’re forgetting why you’re even fighting. So, everyone who doesn’t live here, exit, find some whiskey, and drink yourselves to sleep. Except for you, Travis. You should shower. You smell like yesterday.”

“I just left the gym!” he whined.

Hazel continued, “Come back tomorrow rested and less embarrassing adults.” After a short pause, she added, “Not a request, mommy issues.Vámonos!”

“You’re not even Spanish,” Travis said, sulking.

I could hear their footsteps shuffling toward the door—but Travis’s pouting was louder.

After a long pause, Hazel came back in, looking both triumphant and tired.

“They peaced out,” she announced, crossing her arms.

I giggled. “I imagined you as a pocket-sized dictator, bossing around a bunch of giant, confused man-children.”

“You wound me, wife,” Trenton said, pushing open the door.

“People tend to scatter like cockroaches when I start dropping truth bombs,” she smirked. “You gotta speak their language—loud, blunt, and as pissed off as they are.”

Trenton sat beside me on the bed, taking my hand in his.

“Did they tell you anything?” I asked, though a part of me dreaded the answer.

He shook his head, a shadow crossing his face. “No. I know they believe it’s for a good reason, but it still feels like bullshit.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

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