Make Me Bad(55)

Please don’t give up on us.

Please don’t let this ruin what we have.

Please answer the phone when I call you in the morning.

Those are all the things I want to say, but instead, I settle on, “Please don’t punch my dad. He means well.”

His eyes soften a smidge, but not nearly as much as I would like.

They’re still acting like two dogs circling around each other, hackles raised. Neither one of them is going to back down. My dad’s not going to toss up his hands and say, You know what? You’re right. Ben, you have my blessing to date my daughter. And Ben isn’t going to beg my father to see reason and give him a chance. He has too much pride.

Ben’s eyes turn to me, and I see his anger boiling there. I feel so bad for dragging him into this situation. I don’t want to be the reason he suffers. My dad has it wrong. Ben is a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this.

“I want you to leave my daughter alone.”

I cringe at the request, hating how mean my dad sounds, how fiercely protective he’s being. Any other man would do exactly as he says and walk—no, run from the beach, but Ben stands immobile, his amber eyes on me. Steam rolls off his broad shoulders. He won’t leave me here, and my heart is breaking for him.

There’s no good option. I could leave with Ben—my heart is screaming at me to leave with Ben—but I can’t do that to my dad. My dad, the man who sacrificed so much to raise me, who’s stood by my side my whole life.

No matter what I decide, I’m going to hurt one of them, so I do the only thing I can do. I throw up my hands and turn to walk away by myself.

Now no one needs to be my protector. No one needs to drag me away.

I’ll go all by myself.

Ben shouts at me to slow down. My dad does too, but I don’t listen to either one of them. I walk and I continue walking until I hit the sidewalk. I cross the street, lock my arms over my chest, and head in the direction of my dad’s house. Sure, Ben’s jacket and my nightgown are both soaked, but the anger burning in my belly makes it so I can barely feel the cold night air.

God, I’m sick of this town. I’m sick of being the police chief’s daughter and Colten’s little sister. I’m sick of being treated like a teenager with a curfew. I’m a grown woman. It’s time to start acting like one.

I’m so mad I could keep walking straight to Canada, just Forrest Gump it all the way up the coast. Run, Madison, run.

A car follows behind me slowly. I know one of them is trailing me to make sure I make it home okay, but I can’t turn around to see who it is. If it’s my dad, I’ll be upset it’s not Ben. If it’s Ben, what would I tell him? Sorry you’ll never have a normal life if you date me? Sorry my dad is overbearing? Sorry I nearly got you arrested? Sorry I’m twenty-five years old and still don’t have the strength to stand on my own two feet?

Clarity sinks in during that trek to the house, and not just a little thought like, Hmm, I should eat my vegetables if I want to live to 100. This is a meteor-sized realization that drops down right on top of my head.

If I want to change my life, I’m going to have to initiate that change. I can’t use Ben as a crutch. I have to move my life along, and not just in this superficial bullshit way where I get little rose tattoos and sneak around with Ben. Oh, yeah, wow—real exciting stuff there, Madison. How about I grow up? How about I muster the courage to move out of my childhood bedroom? How about I finally stand up to my dad and Colten and tell them life is going to change? No more nice Madison. No more pleasing everyone and pushing my wants and desires aside. I wanted real change when I blew out that birthday candle and now, finally, I’ve found the strength to make it happen. I don’t need Ben to make me bad.

I can be bad all on my own.

If this were a movie, a sick beat would drop at this exact moment.





When I get home, I head straight up to my room to start packing a bag. I’m not going anywhere tonight. It’s late. I don’t own a car, and I’m not asking my dad to drive me. The notion is laughable. Hi, Dad. Yes, I’m leaving. Could you perchance give me a lift? Not to mention the fact that there’s still a little whiskey working its way through my system. I should probably stay put until morning.

I want to call Ben and talk about what just happened. I can’t believe I just left him on the beach. I feel terrible. What if he thinks I didn’t like what we were doing?! No. Not possible. Before the police officer reached us, while we were yanking our clothes on and kicking up sand, our gazes locked and I knew—whatever had just happened in that ocean wasn’t just because of the dare. He meant those words. He wanted me.

I reach for my phone and dial, but he doesn’t answer.

Shit.

I try again, pacing my room, and this time, I leave a message. “Hey Ben, it’s me…Madison. If you could give me a call back, that would be great. Okay. Um, also, thank you for…that, for…whatever just happened. Okay, bye! Also, oh! Sorry about my dad!”

I cringe and toss my phone onto my bed then turn for my closet so I can start grabbing clothes. First thing in the morning, I’m going to move out. I’m going to hunt for an apartment until I find something that works for me. Hopefully I can find some place to lease in one day. If not, I’ll stay at a hotel. I will not spend another night in this house.