Page 56 of I Hear You

“Is everything okay? I ask hesitantly.

“She lied to me. She fucking lied to me,” she says, never meeting my eyes, just staring at the wall.

“Who lied to you, Madison?”

“Just read it. Fourth page. I need to go for a walk.”

She stands up and starts walking down the row of storage units. I pick up the notebook she’s thrown and open it. It looks like it’s a journal. I read the entry on the fourth page.

March 4th

Today I had my baby girl. Happy Birthday sweet Madison. I am terrified. I am too young to be a mother, but I don’t have any other choice now. She will be so loved, because even though Eric knows now this baby isn’t his, he’s agreed to be here for both of us. To raise this baby as his own. Being a mom at eighteen is scary enough, I’m just grateful to not be doing it alone. Sure, deep down I’m worried being a mom and committing to a guy at this age is ruining my life, but no one but you little journal needs to know that —

I stop reading. One can only assume this diary belongs to Madison's mom and Madison’s world just came crashing down. I run after her and find her sitting at the end of the row of storage units, knees tucked up under her chin.

“Madison, this is all too much for one day. We’re getting hotel rooms and staying the night and I’m not going to argue with you anymore about it,” I tell her, trying to control my anger.

My anger isn’t at her, and I don’t want her to hear it in my voice. My anger is at her piece of shit mother who keeps breaking this beautiful girl's heart.

She looks up at me in defeat and stands up.

“Okay.”

Her single word response—okay—seems to be saying so much more than just okay.

I open the internet browser on my phone and start looking for a hotel room nearby. It’s a small town, so there are only about a dozen hotels, but every single one I look at shows no rooms available. Then I notice on one of the websites a notice about a surfing contest in town this week. Great. I finally find a hotel with one room available but it only has one king size bed. It’s a suite and is going to cost me a month's paycheck, but I don’t care. I book the room, I’ll sleep on the couch.

I put the diary back in the box. Then I stack another box of things on top of it that Madison said she wanted to take with us before locking the storage unit. I don’t know if she’ll want to read these right away, but I feel she has the right, and I want to give her that option.

When we get to the hotel, we head to the front desk to check in. The woman behind the counter get’s our room keys and takes my credit card.

“Oh, the king's suite, you’ll love this room. It has a hot tub,” she says. The suggestive look on her face doesn’t go unnoticed.

“One room?” Madison says.

Of course, now she’s alert.

“It was the only room I could find available within thirty miles. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I tell her.

She doesn’t argue or even comment.

When we get to the room, I’m a little embarrassed. This room is really nice and is definitely giving honeymoon suite vibes.

There’s floor to ceiling windows with a perfect ocean view, the bathroom has a shower plus a giant tub with jets, and the king size bed sits in the middle of the room across from a fireplace. There’s a small desk and somehow an even smaller couch next to it on one wall. I have no idea how I’m going to sleep on that thing. I may just end up on the floor. Madison is taking it all in but pauses when she see’s the couch.

“Henry, you cannot sleep on this couch. There’s no way. It’s too small. You take the bed.”

“Madison, my mother would disown me if I did.”

“Fine,” she says, defiance in her voice, “We will just share the bed. It’s a king. We can put a pillow between us or something. It’s not as if we’re strangers. I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay?”

Words won’t come out of my mouth. My brain might be malfunctioning. I have an instant hard on. Between the thoughts of sleeping in the same bed as her and of her in the shower only feet away from me, how can I not? I swallow hard and nod my head. Madison turns on her heel, heading toward the bathroom. I can’t help my chuckle. She’s probably pretty proud of herself for winning that argument.

While Madison is in the shower, I notice our room has a small balcony. I open the sliding door and step outside. Listening to the water coming from the bathroom isn’t helping me keep my mind out of the gutter and I don’t need her thinking I’m trying to get laid if she comes out and I’ve got a hard-on.

The ocean breeze coming in is chilly but refreshing; I can taste the salt in the air on my lips and smell the seaweed. Seagulls squawk in the distance and I can just make out the white crest of waves crashing in the dark. I hear the bathroom door open and Madison comes to stand next to me, leaning on the railing. I look at her. She has on pink silk pajama shorts that show off the bottom curve of her ass and a matching top with thin straps and black lace around the edges. My dick instantly wins the hard-on battle.

“Taylor packed my bag, they’re hers,” she says.

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