Page 28 of The Meaning Of You

He chuckled and swept a hand over the mountain of takeout boxes. “Maybe, but I’m not the one bathing my blood in saturated fats until my arteries look like a Slip ’N Slide.”

He had a point. “AsI was saying, the police said the thieves were either lucky I wasn’t home or they were watching the place,but the latter makes no sense. There’re plenty of other places to go rob.”

Madigan’s brows crunched. “True.”

“But whoever it was,” I continued, “they seem to have got in through the property behind and not the path. If they’d come up the side, they would’ve been caught by the camera in the magnolia.” I paused. “Just like you were.”

Madigan’s eyebrows arched accusingly. “YouknewI was coming around the back?”

I grinned. “No, of course not. If I’d seen you coming, do you really think I would’ve... well, you know. I don’t have the notifications on when I’m home, but I checked the video clips while you were in the bathroom.”

“Which circles back around to why I’m here.” Madigan studied me long enough to make me squirm. “Lizzie didn’t contact me, by the way. I called her because I was worried and wanted to see you. You’ve avoided me like the plague since the funeral, including not answering any of my texts and voicemails.” He paused for effect and added a good eyeballing for emphasis.

My cheeks blazed and Madigan didn’t miss it, softening his tone as he continued. “Maybe if you’d answered evenonetext with a polite,I’m okay but please leave me alone,then we wouldn’t be here, and my stomach would feel a hell of a lot better. I appreciate I haven’t known you long, but friendship is friendship, and yes, I was—amworried.”

I picked at the hem on my shirt and shrugged. “Which is very thoughtful of you. But honestly, I’m fine.”

“So, I see.” Madigan gave the room another pointed once-over and I sank lower in my chair. “Believe me when I say I’ve heardallabout just howfineyou are from Lizzie. The poor woman’s been fielding calls from all your friends who’ve beengiven the same story from you and know it for the shit that it is. People who care about you. Nick. People who know you.”

The idea that people had been talking behind my back made me bristle. “I have no idea who you’re talking about since most of our friends were Davis’s, not mine.”

Madigan frowned at the bitterness in my words and I felt an urge to walk them back because it wasn’t true. Not totally anyway. Davishadbeen responsible for most of our friendship group. It was the kind of man he was—open and gregarious. Admittedly, I’d grown close to a few of them, but they were still Davis’s friends more than mine and I didn’t want them to feel obligated to continue a relationship with me just because of him. I wasn’t sure I wanted that either. Davis had done all our social heavy lifting. He needed people around him. Me? Not so much.

Madigan’s gaze softened. “People care about you, Nick.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “Or maybe they’re just ticking boxes.” He frowned at that but I barrelled on. “Either way it’s really none of their business what kind of state I might be in, oryoursas it happens.”

Another frown, and I wanted to haul those words back as well, but I didn’t. “Davis’s death has been coming for eighteen months.” I wanted him to understand. “Do I miss him? Of course, I bloody do. I loved him more than anything.”More than life itself.“But it’s... different, the way it happened. Not better or worse, just different. I feel like I’ve been numb and grieving forever, and now I’m trying to breathe again the only way I know how. I’m not being callous, just real. I’ve thought about Davis dying since the day of the accident. Imagined it. Dreaded it. It’s so fucked up. One day I’m praying for a miracle, for his death to never happen, and the next day I’m praying for the exact opposite and feeling guilty about both. It fucks with your head. Eighteen months of back and forth and watching him slowly die, piece by piece, in that damn bed.”

I scrubbed at my eyes, horrified at the unchecked emotion in my voice, but Madigan said nothing about my tears. He waited while I collected myself, his eyes steady on mine, his body quiet until eventually I was able to draw a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

“Davis always said I was shit at just feeling what I felt and accepting it, so now I’m doing my best to follow his advice and not overanalyse everything. Just... feel, like he’d want me to.” I huffed in disgust. “Hardly my comfort zone.”

Madigan’s lips quirked up.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t look so pleased with yourself. It’s... hard for me. It’s not logical or pretty and it hurts like hell, but I promise you that I’m not running from it. I’m not pretending or in denial, and I wish people would believe that and let me be. I know Lizzie thinks I’ve shut down—” I looked up. “—but I haven’t. I just don’t want to drown in anyone’s well-meaning sympathy, not even hers. Or... yours.”

“Lizzie is grieving too,” Madigan said, the words so soft I had to strain to catch them. “Davis was your husband, but he was her son, and she loves you both.”

Oh god. I swallowed hard. “I know,” I answered just as softly. “But I can’t be there for her right now.” I held his gaze, begging him to understand. “You never saw Davis, but if you had you’d know how alike they are, especially the eyes. And that laugh...”

Madigan closed his eyes for a second and it was like the room went dark. Then he opened them again and nodded. “Okay, now I get it. But maybe you could tell her that rather than simply avoid her.”

I sighed and turned to stare out the window. “I know. And I will, thank you. Lord knows I suck at peopling, but the truth is I’m trying to get through this the best way I know how, theonlyway I know—by listening to Davis’svoice in my head, no oneelse’s. I might not be asfineas I’d like, or as fine as I tell people, but Iamokay, so far, at least. I just need some time.”

I finished on a sigh and waited for Madigan to respond. He took his time, the silence between us growing but not uncomfortably so. This was Madigan, after all. Garrulous, he wasn’t. Everything that came out of his mouth was considered but blunt, sometimes irritatingly so. It had purpose, even if it was a snarky aside or an acid opinion to put me in my place. It was as if he thought words too precious a commodity to dispense willy-nilly, with no thought to their value. I imagined him reading a book in the same fashion. Slowly. Relishing every word like a fine wine. Paying attention not just to the words but to the cover and the pages and the crafting of the whole thing.

The thought made me smile.

As the seconds ticked by, the storm in my chest quelled enough for me to breathe again, the boiling acid in my stomach reduced to a tolerable simmer. The Madigan effect, I thought wryly, closing my eyes. The befuddling man needed to bottle that woo-woo shit. He’d make a fucking fortune.

“Can I ask—” He waited until I looked up before continuing. “—if your avoidance of me is part of not wanting other voices in your head?”

No. It’s because you see through me just likehedid.But I didn’t say that. Instead, I answered, “Partly. And I’m sorry for that. But Iwasglad to see you at the funeral.”

Madigan nodded but I could see it in his eyes. Just not enough to talk to me. “What about today?” he asked. “Are you glad I came today?”

Yes. No.I fell back against the cushion and studied him. “Undecided,” I admitted. “Depends on what you expect from me.”

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