Chapter 6 - Buried Grievances
Deputy Miller tipped his hat to me before driving away, leaving me entirely alone.
I walked through the house, unlocking the terrace doors and letting the warm evening breeze sweep out the stale tension. The rooms were spotless. I had spent my previous rest day scrubbing the countertops, making up the guest beds, and stocking the pantry—all because, deep down, a part of me had still hoped that maybe, somehow, my family would arrive with gratitude instead of entitlement.
I sank into an armchair overlooking the water. My phone began to vibrate violently on the cedar coffee table.
First came the notifications from the family group chat.
*Greg has left the group.*
*Cheryl has left the group.*
*Kevin has left the group.*
Then, direct messages flooded in. My mother was sending paragraph after paragraph of blistering vitriol: accusing me of narcissism, threatening to cut me out of her will, warning me that she would make sure every relative at Thanksgiving knew what kind of monster I was.
I didn't reply. With steady, deliberate thumb movements, I blocked her number. Then I blocked my father’s.
A quiet tap sounded at the front screen door.
I jumped, my adrenaline spiking again, and hurried to the front hallway. But it wasn't my parents.
Madison stood on the porch, alone. Her car was parked quietly near the mailbox, out of sight. She was holding a covered casserole dish and looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red.
I opened the door. "Madison?"
"I sent Josh and the baby to the motel in Baxter," she said softly. "I told him I needed to come back and see you."
We stood looking at each other for a long moment before I stepped aside. "Come in."
Madison set the dish on the kitchen counter—it was homemade peach cobbler, still warm. She turned around, and without a word, wrapped her arms around my neck. I buried my face into her shoulder, and for the first time since that brutal night shift forty-eight hours ago, the tears came. Hot, heavy, and long overdue.
"I am so sorry, Lauren," Madison whispered, holding me tight. "We should have questioned it. When Aunt Helen asked for the money through an obscure payment app, we should have known. But she was so convincing. She made it sound like you were drowning."
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"I wasn't drowning," I sobbed, laughing through the tears. "I was just tired, Madison. I was just so tired of being their bank account and their free resort."
***
