Chapter 20

By the time the final treatment ended, Poppi felt anything but relaxed.

The attendant’s voice was soft, practiced. “You’re all set. Take your time getting dressed…there’s tea and fruit in the lounge if you’d like to unwind a bit more.”

Unwind.

Poppi almost laughed.

She murmured a polite thank you and slipped into the locker room without looking back, gripping the edge of her robe like it was the only thing holding her together. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t look like someone who had just spent four hours being pampered. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes too bright…like she’d been crying, or close to it.

Maybe both.

She dressed quickly, fingers fumbling once when she tried to button her jeans. The quiet in the room pressed in on her, and for a second, she just stood there, breathing, trying to steady herself.

Okay.

They said what needed to be said.

It was done.

It had to be.

Madden was already in the hallway when she stepped out.

He leaned against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, keys dangling loosely from his fingers. His hair was still slightly damp from the steam, curling just enough to make everything worse…softer, less guarded.

More him.

Poppi’s chest tightened.

“Ready?” he asked, like this was normal. Like they hadn’t just dismantled something fragile and unnamed and then forced it back into a box.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

They walked out together, the spa door closing behind them with a quiet click that felt… final.

The outside air hit differently…cooler, sharper, real. The sky had shifted while they were inside, the late afternoon sun dipping low enough to cast long shadows across the parking lot.

For a few steps, neither of them spoke.

Gravel crunched under their shoes.

A car door slammed somewhere in the distance.

Normal sounds.

A normal world.

Poppi wrapped her arms around herself again, more out of habit than cold.

“We should probably thank dad,” she said, her voice careful.

Madden let out a breath. “Yeah. For the emotional torture package.”

She huffed a quiet, reluctant laugh.

“Seriously,” he added, glancing at her. “Four hours? That’s not a spa day…that’s a test of endurance.”

Her lips twitched, but it faded quickly.

“Still,” she said, softer now. “He meant well.”

“I know.”

They reached his truck.

He hit the unlock button, and the familiar sound felt grounding in a way the entire spa hadn’t.

Safe.

Predictable.

Not… complicated.

Poppi moved to the passenger side, then hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle.

Madden noticed.

“Poppi…”

She didn’t look at him. “We said what we needed to say.”

“I know…I just—-“ he started.

“So we’re good,” she cut him off.

There was a pause.

“Are we?” he asked.

Her chest tightened again. She forced a breath in, then out.

“We have to be,” she said, staring through the truck window to avoid his eyes.

He watched her for a second longer than he should have.

Then nodded.

“Okay.”

She opened the door and climbed in.

The drive started in silence.

Not the heavy, suffocating kind from earlier…but something quieter. Controlled. Like both of them were actively choosing not to cross a line they could both still see too clearly.

Poppi stared out the window, watching the blur of trees and road, her reflection faint in the glass.

She could feel him beside her.

Not touching.

Not reaching.

Just… there.

“Hey,” he said after a few minutes.

Her stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said.”

She turned her head slightly. “About what?”

“About not ruining things.” His grip tightened just a little on the steering wheel. “I’m not going to cross that line. I respect you Poppi.”

Something in her chest ached at the certainty in his tone.

“I know,” she said.

He glanced at her. “Do you?”

She nodded, but her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Yeah. I do.”

Another pause.

Then…

“But that doesn’t make it go away,” he added.

There it was.

The truth they couldn’t quite leave behind.

Poppi swallowed hard, looking back out the window.

“No,” she admitted. “It doesn’t.”

The truck slowed at a red light.

Time stretched.

Suspended.

“And if it doesn’t go away?” he asked, not looking at her now.

Her heart started racing again.

“Then we ignore it,” she said, even though the words felt thin. Fragile. “We keep ignoring it. You are here for only two more months. We can fight it.”

“For how long?” He asked.

She didn’t answer right away.

Because she didn’t know.

Because there wasn’t a good answer.

“Forever,” she finally said.

The light turned green.

He drove.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the ride.

When they pulled into the driveway, the house looked exactly the same as it always did.

Warm.

Familiar.

Safe.

Poppi stared at it for a second before unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Okay,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Madden cut the engine, the sudden silence ringing in her ears.

“Okay,” he echoed.

Neither of them moved to get out right away.

One last pause.

One last moment where something could be said.

Or undone.

Poppi reached for the door handle first.

Chose.

Again.

“I’ll go in first,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”

She opened the door and stepped out, the evening air brushing against her skin.

Normal.

Everything looked normal.

She walked toward the house without looking back.

Madden stayed in the truck for a few seconds longer, hands still on the wheel, staring straight ahead.

Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, exhaling hard, like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

Maybe he had.

Inside, the front door opened.

Voices.

Fred’s laughter.

Valyn’s softer tone.

Life continuing.

Madden opened his eyes, grabbed his keys, and stepped out of the truck.

And just like that, whatever had almost happened…

Got left somewhere between eucalyptus air and four hours of pretending it didn’t exist.

Even though it still did.