Page 156 of Mad Love

A wobbly smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad to hear that. This is your home, Madison, for as long as you like. My wife said the same thing to me, that this land always felt like home. I want you to be as happy here as we were.”

“I’d like that.” Emotion lodged in my throat.

“Now, care to tell me what has you so upset that you’re pacing holes in the floors?” A tiny sparkle lit his eyes. “If it’s that grandson of mine, he’s not too old for me to set him straight.”

The idea of Grandpa laying into Ryan was amusing, and I warred with the smile trying to pull at my mouth. “No, he’s been great.” I regarded him for a moment. “You raised him well.”

He ducked his head in appreciation.

“Court was giving me my options,” I explained, quickly laying out what we’d discussed.

Grandpa listened attentively, frowning and nodding as I told him everything and why I was struggling. “Not to quote Shakespeare, but it is just a name.”

“I know.” I huffed a breath. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. “I can see why you want to distance yourself from your father’s legacy. He caused a lot of pain, as did your sister. By carrying on that name, you’ll inherit all their shame to some degree. It’s unavoidable. The same way Ryan will always be known, to an extent, as Beckett Cain’s son.”

I paused. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Why not?” Grandpa arched a brow.

“Because Ryan’s more than that, and so is the Cain name.” I frowned. “He started Phoenix, and he’s doing everything in his power to change the way the world views his last name and his family.”

Grandpa smiled, like I’d just given the correct answer to ace this test.

“The name doesn’t matter,” I murmured, folding my hands on my lap. “It doesn’t matter what they did—it matters what I do.”

“You have the power to make the Cabot name mean something genuine and true again,” he added. “Not all Cabots were horrible humans. Besides, do you honestly think my grandson will let you run around with the last name Cabot again for very long?”

I giggled. “Probably not.” I looked at my barren left finger. “I don’t even know what happened to my rings,” I whispered. Somewhere in the shuffle of being kidnapped and locked away, the rings had been stripped away. Who knew if I’d ever get them back?

That loss hit deep, and it was all I could do to blink back tears. I was so tired of losing things. Maybe it was time to reclaim them on my terms.

“Do you know what made those rings so special?” Grandpa asked.

“Ryan said that you got them when you both had nothing,” I replied. “It meant that your love meant more than material items.”

“True, but they were special because of the people who wore them. Those rings symbolized the love I had for my wife, and she for me.” He met my eyes with a steady, reassuring gaze. “Perhaps it’s time for you and Ryan to find your own symbols to represent you and what you share.”

“You always know just what to say,” I murmured, shaking my head in awe. “How do you do that?”

“I lived a life full of love,” he answered. “And I’ve found that all the answers to every question can usually be discovered in that foundation.” He started to reach for a pen, but his fingers shook too hard to grasp it.

I slowly stood. “Do you want me to—”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, lowering his hand with a tired smile, “would you please get Eloise? I think I’ll take a quick rest.”

“Of course.” I turned for the door.

“Madison?”

I turned back, expectant. “Yes?”

The gratitude in his eyes was humbling, staggering. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family.”

“They’re my family, too,” I reminded him.

He nodded and smiled. “Right you are, my girl. Right you are.”

---