Meet Me Halfway (Learning to Love Series)
Meet Me Halfway: Chapter 17

When I was pregnant with Jamie, I puked numerous times a day during the first five months. I lost weight and struggled to go to school because of how often I got sick. It wasn’t pretty. There wasn’t a single thing about me that had the pregnancy glow.

This felt kind of like that.

I’d woken around three in the morning and had to sprint to the bathroom when flames shot up my chest and through my mouth, not stopping to collect go.

I was on the floor, curled around a cleaning bucket I’d pulled from under the sink, when Layla’s alarm went off. It was now six. I’d been on the floor for hours, and it didn’t seem to be fading anytime soon.

I didn’t know what to do. I’d taken the entire past weekend off from my night shift. Even with Layla’s help, I couldn’t afford to take more than a few days off.

Lurching up, my stomach clenched, and I dry-heaved over the bucket. Fuck my life, there was no way I could go in. Standing with the bucket hugged to my chest, I made my way out of my room, knocking on Layla’s door.

She opened it wearing only shorts and a bra, a curling iron dangling from her hand. Her eyes widened when she took in my disheveled sight.

“What the hell, Mads?”

“I think I might have food poisoning.”

“No shit. I told you that taco salad looked fucking iffy. You look like you’re on death’s door. Like, you legit look awful.”

I looked up from my new plastic best friend to my old best friend, glaring with all the muster I could gather. “Thanks.”

She set her curling iron on her side table and grabbed a top to pull over herself. “You’re calling in to work…right?”

“Obviously,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes together and trying not to gag in her face. “Can you take Jamie to school on your way to work?”

“Yeah, I’ll handle it, babe, go back to bed.”

She didn’t need to tell me twice. I formed my body into a fetal position on my bed and called Evaline to let her know I wouldn’t make it in.

It’d taken almost two hours before my stomach settled enough to finally venture out. It was either risk inducing another puke fest or die by severe thirst. I chose the first option. It felt like my entire mouth had been invaded by a colony of cotton balls.

Water in hand, I shuffled to the couch to prop myself up, staring at the blank screen of the TV and wishing with all my heart we had cable.

Rap, rap, rap.

I shot forward, knocking my—thankfully empty—bucket to the ground and almost dumping my water glass across my lap. The sudden movement had spots dancing across my vision, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I had to plant my head between my knees to ward off the overwhelming sensation of passing out.

Rap, rap, rap.

“Madison?” A voice asked, muffled behind the wood.

Neck still bent between my legs, I allowed myself a moment to wail. Why me? It’d been days since he was last here. Why would he choose today of all days? I could ignore him and pretend I wasn’t here, but my Jeep was parked out front. Fuck.

Pulling myself off the couch with painful slowness, I dragged my feet to the door. My head was swirling, but I took a steadying breath and unlocked it. All I needed to do was keep my shit together until he left. I could do that. I’d given birth, I could control the urge to vomit in this man’s vicinity.

“Madison?”

“Garrett.”

“I was getting ready to head out when I noticed your Jeep still here. Everything okay?”

He tilted his head, trying to see me through the two-inch crack I’d allowed. He was dressed for work and had a lunch pail sitting on the porch next to him. My stomach rolled harder.

“Yep.” One-word answers. I could handle one-word answers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He glared at me, and even through the gap, it seared into my skin. “I just don’t feel well. Something I ate. It’s nothing.” I settled a hand over my middle, breathing in and out.

His eyes narrowed, dipping down before coming back to rest on my face. He pushed the door, and I reactively pushed back, trying to prevent him from coming inside. It was the wrong thing to do.

I looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth parted in horror before I whipped around, sprinting for the bathroom.

The sound of heavy footsteps was my only warning life was not going to take it easy on me. Of course, Garrett had invited himself inside. Of course, he didn’t stay in the living room when I had my head buried in a toilet and hair plastered to my face.

I heard a few sliding sounds I couldn’t quite place and then more footsteps.

“Put these on and step in the shower.”

“What?” I croaked, cracking an eye open and trying to focus up at his face.

“You heard me.” Something soft dropped onto my thighs, and I glanced down to see a pair of clothes. My clothes. A black tank top and cotton briefs to be exact.

“You went through my dresser?”

“It was either that or I saw you naked. Figured you’d prefer it this way.”

“Excuse me—”

“If you sass me right now, Maddie, I swear to God, I’ll strip you down and toss you in there when it’s still ice cold.”

Was it possible to feel nauseated and incredulous at the same time? “I’ll puke all down your back,” I threatened, not sounding nearly as strong as I wanted.

“No, you won’t. From the sounds of it, you got nothing left in the tank. You’d just gag, and I gotta tell you, baby, gagging doesn’t bother me.”

I stared at him, his words settling between us with a heaviness I shouldn’t have felt given the current circumstances.

He walked farther into the bathroom, pulling back the curtain and turning on the shower. Turning to look down at me with his hands on his hips, he asked, “So what’s it going to be? You gonna meet me halfway here, or am I tossing you in?”

I narrowed my eyes, unsticking my head from the toilet seat and gripping the clothes in my lap. “Are you going to at least leave?”

“With you looking two seconds away from passing out? Not a chance. I’ll face the hall while you change, but don’t you dare try to climb over the tub edge without help.”

I grumbled out a curse at his back that had his shoulders tensing, but I did what he said. It took me longer than I wanted to admit, but he never complained or peeked.

“Okay.” Part of me understood I was standing in my bathroom in only underwear and a thin tank, but I couldn’t muster up the energy to care. I didn’t even bother to glare when he placed a wrist over my forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burning up.”

“I think…taco salad.”

“What? You know what, never mind. Let’s get you in.” He gripped my waist like he thought the small step over the tub edge might send me sprawling face first into the shower wall, and pulled the curtain partly shut behind me.

I stood under the spray with my eyes closed, letting the lukewarm water run down my body and drench my clothing. I lifted my arms to push some rogue curls out of my face but froze when my fingers brushed against something firm. My eyes shot open, a cracked squeak leaping from my mouth.

Garrett stood mere inches away, wearing only his shirt and boxers, his bare feet almost touching my own. I hadn’t heard him undress, let alone step in. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you.”

“I’m f—”

“The word ‘fine’ better not leave your mouth.”

I smashed my lips together, unwilling to agree but also knowing I couldn’t argue an obvious fact. I sighed, accepting defeat and closing my eyes again. If I didn’t look at him, maybe I could trick my mind into thinking he wasn’t there. But less than a minute later, his hands wrapped around my shoulders.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair.”

I resisted his attempt to twist me. “It’s—” I cut myself off. Great, I was never going to be able to use that damn word again. “My hair doesn’t need to be washed.”

“The vomit clinging to the strands by your face beg to differ.” His eyes drifted down, but I refused to follow his gaze. If I saw even a hint of vomit on my person, I’d lose it all over again.

“I can wash my own hair, Garrett. My curls are picky, and I have an entire routine, and… Why are you smiling at me?”

He twisted me again, catching me off guard and turning me until the back of my shoulders grazed his chest. “Shut up and let me take care of you. I know what I’m doing.”

I watched his arm snake down in front of me to grab my bottle of no-poo shampoo from the corner shelf.

“You…do?”

“My mother’s hair is blond and not quite as curly as yours, but it’s similar. My grandpa used to call her his Shirley Temple because of it.”

A tired chuckle escaped me. “My dad called me the same thing.”

I couldn’t see him, but somehow, I knew he was smiling, and I wondered if I’d see a hint of his dimples if I looked back. I heard the click of the bottle opening, felt the brush of his arm as he returned it, and then his fingers were sliding though my hair.

He cleared his throat. “When I was younger, I made the mistake of telling my mother about the abundance of hair tutorials online.”

If I’d have had the energy, I would’ve laughed, knowing what he was about to say next. But then his fingers started drawing circles along my scalp, and a deep, uncontrolled moan exited my mouth instead.

His hands paused their ministrations, his nails digging in for a fleeting moment before continuing their path.

“She made me sit and play video after video for her, writing down all the tips and tricks.”

I tilted my head up to see him, leaning the back of it against his chest, and caught the tail end of a nostalgic smile.

“Anyway, my point is I know all about pineapples and plopping.” He looked down, meeting my gaze while working his hands down the sides of my head.

The brush of his fingers against the tops of my ears sent a shiver racing down my spine, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy a moment of weakness.

“Thank you, Garrett.”

“Don’t thank me, baby. I got you.”

Consciousness eased in slowly, gently, coaxing away the lull of my heavy eyelids and warm limbs. I was comfortable and felt surprisingly well-rested. I cracked an eye open, blinking away sleep and focusing on the wall across from me.

It took me a second to understand I was in my bedroom. In bed. In the middle of the day. I pushed up onto an elbow and rubbed my face. The damp edge of a bunched-up t-shirt around my head brought the morning’s activities slamming to the front of my mind.

Vomiting. Garrett. More vomiting. The shower. Holy shit. My sticky skin told me two things. One, my fever had at least broken while I slept, and two, I’d have to take an actual shower all over again.

I flushed, remembering all the sounds I’d made when Garrett had tipped my head back into the spray and massaged all the product out. No one had ever done that for me before. It was, by far, one of the hottest things to happen to me, and if I hadn’t had puke breath and a raging fever, I might’ve climbed him like a tree.

He’d been a gentleman the entire time, never once even ogling the nipples I knew were visible through my soaked tank. He’d helped me out and bundled me in a towel before disappearing to let me change back into pajamas, and returning with a t-shirt to squeeze the excess water from my hair.

He’d wrapped my wet locks up off my neck, tucked me into bed, spoon-fed me children’s acetaminophen, and even retrieved the bucket to set on my nightstand. I’d watched him the entire time, wondering what his ulterior motives were. If he had any.

I couldn’t help it; I’d never had a man dote on me without expecting something in return. But he’d never hinted at anything or acted put out even though he had to have missed work today. If fact, he’d almost seemed to grow irritated each time he caught my wide-eyed stare, as if my disbelief irked him.

I sat all the way up, leaning against my pillows and looking across the room only to jolt back when I noticed the hunched figure sitting at the end of my bed. I pressed a hand to my heart, hoping to keep it where it belonged.

“God, you scared me.”

His shoulders tightened at the sound of my voice, but he didn’t raise his head. He was sitting at the edge with his hands dangling between his knees, his neck lowered and eyes closed.

“Garrett? What’s wrong?”

He laughed then, or what might be called a laugh. It was more like an angry huff. He rolled his neck, cracking it, and I realized he held something in his hands. I couldn’t see much past his legs, but it looked like a stack of papers.

“Layla swung by to check on you. She was heading to pick up Jamie and take him to grab some dinner. How are you feeling?” He still hadn’t looked at me.

I’d slept all day? No wonder I felt rested. “I feel better. Pretty sure my fever broke.”

Why wasn’t he looking at me? Hell, who was I kidding, he’d missed an entire day of work because he was afraid to leave me alone. Of course, he was irritated.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that and be here.”

The pages in his hand crinkled, accompanying a heavy exhale. “You know, I thought about going home earlier, but I was afraid you’d get sick again. So, I left you to rest, and I watched a movie in the living room. I found your phone sitting on the floor next to the couch. I’m guessing you dropped it when I showed up.”

He crunched the papers farther. “I brought it in here so you’d have it when you woke up, but I couldn’t replace your charger.”

I stared at his lap, brow creased, trying to figure out what he was holding and why he was upset. “I keep it in my nightstand when I’m not using it because I have to use the same outlet for my laptop.”

“I know,” he snapped, “I found it.”

Why was he so angry…oh. Oh. I looked at the pages in his hands again, at the stack containing the screenshots and messages, photos and medical visits.

The blood drained from my body as ice filled my veins instead. “Garrett—”

“What the fuck are these, Madison?”

Oh God. I was going to hyperventilate. He should never have seen those. God, why did I even still have them? I should have thrown them away the day I’d realized I no longer needed them.

“They’re records.”

He heaved a breath as if he was in physical pain. “Madison Walsh,” he spit, and I flinched like he’d struck me. “That’s the bastard’s name. Aaron Walsh.” The words were laced with so much hatred, I was sure if words could kill, Aaron would be bleeding out somewhere.

“Yes.”

“Explain to me why some of these are from the time you were together, and some are only a few fucking years old. Because I’m really struggling to wrap my fucking brain around it.”

I crossed my legs, tucking the comforter around me as a makeshift shield. Not from Garrett, but from the topic. I knew Garrett’s anger was directed at my history and not myself, but uncovering my past was agonizing.

“Aaron asked to meet up when the divorce was finalized under the guise of giving me some of the things I’d left. They were sentimental items I couldn’t replace like Jamie’s baby photos, so I agreed. But he showed up wasted. I should’ve known better.”

I looked down at my lap. It wasn’t the first time Aaron had convinced me to do something I knew better than to do, but it had certainly been the last.

“That’s why Jamie’s so fucking defensive of you, why he shoved me away that day. He saw this shit, didn’t he?”

Goosebumps covered my entire body at the pure venom staring back at me from his eyes. I couldn’t get my mouth to form words, so I nodded.

He cursed, ducking his head down and clasping a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

I lurched forward, stretching a hand out and placing it on the bed. “Aaron may have been the one to hurt me, Garrett, but I was the one who invited him to an apartment my child was at, knowing what he was like. I’m not saying what happened was my fault. It’s taken me a long time to accept it, but it wasn’t. But that doesn’t make me completely innocent either.”

“That piece of shit knows where you live.”

I pulled my hand back, snapping, “I’m well aware.”

He held the bent papers out. “Why are these printed out, sitting in your damn nightstand like bedtime reading material?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting against the tears his question brought to the surface. He could’ve had me butt ass naked, and I wouldn’t have felt as stripped bare as I did in that moment.

“I started logging incidences and printing things while we were together. I couldn’t seem to replace the courage to leave, so I tried to force courage by manipulating my fear instead.” My voice shook, and I took a deep breath, wiping away a tear that slipped free.

“Every time I second-guessed myself, I’d pull them out and remind myself why I needed to leave. Because it was hard, Garrett. Leaving him was one of the hardest, most terrifying things I’ve ever done.”

He didn’t reply, but his face had lost its hardness. He almost looked lost as he stared at me, and I wondered if he was thinking about his mother. I pushed through, determined to explain an unexplainable situation.

“When things were bad, they were really bad. But when they were good, they were amazing. Over time, I’d gotten so used to the bad times, that the good ones seemed almost euphoric.” I stared off into space, contemplating my next words.

“Being with a manipulative partner is like an addiction. But instead of a drug, you’re addicted to them, to making them happy because it’s the only time you can be happy. You acclimate to their behavior a little at a time, until you grow numb to it. Until it’s no longer the worst day you’ve ever had, it’s just Monday.

“Then one day they stop giving you your fix. They leave you writhing on the floor, screaming out into the void, all the while knowing, even through the pain, you’re going to wake up and do it all over again. Forever chasing the high of making them happy.”

Tears were now streaming down my face. The reins I’d had on my emotions completely gone. I was too emotionally exhausted and physically drained from the morning I’d had to hide how much the admission broke me.

Garrett walked around to the opposite side of the bed and sat, leaning back until we were shoulder to shoulder. He set the papers between us, his fingers twitching toward me as if he’d almost reached for my hand.

I stared at the pages that documented my history. My pain. My humiliation. “I know it may not make any sense. It’s not something you can understand unless you’ve lived it. Men like Aaron manipulate and gaslight and wear you down so slowly you don’t see it. You don’t even realize your bar has lowered until it’s fucking non-existent.”

“Why do you still have them?”

I sighed, brushing my fingertips up and down the corner of the papers.

“Because there were days, usually when a roach crawled across our apartment or when somebody degraded me at the store for using EBT, that I’d get so depressed I considered going back to him. Back to a beautiful home in a clean neighborhood.”

“And now?”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, needing to soak up my friend’s comfort and warmth. “There is no now. They were sitting in my drawer because I pulled them out the day he showed up, but I didn’t look at them. I realized I didn’t need to.”

Garrett rested his head on top of mine, finally reaching over to cage my hand in his. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Maddie.”

I huffed a breath through my nose, but he just tipped his face down and kissed my forehead.

“You are. There’s no one in the world quite like you.”