But here Zeke was, picking up the pieces I destroyed, trying to fix the same future I’d painted then ultimately gave up on. I should have told him, even if he could fix it, it wouldn’t bring Mia back. It wouldn’t bring me back. The rose would be broken, misplaced, and cracked. It would never be the same.
Even if I did reveal this dirty truth to Zeke, none of it would have mattered.
I knew him well.
He’d still be there, piecing the paper rose back together.
Poor kid.
I threw the can across the room, and it slid into the can beside his desk, scoring me three useless points. Zeke had made no progression with the paper rose, and he didn’t bother to turn around and face me as I stood behind him. With one hand on his shoulder, I advised him I was leaving and slipped out of my new haven and walked through his wing back to my own.
It had only been a week since Mia’s Diary was revealed for the school to see. Also, a week since I fucked her for the first time. That night, I’d stayed up as the darkness preyed on my remorse. Grief had gnawed on me, and tears emptied from my eyes until the sun came up. It wasn’t until I wasted away in my shame when the void took over, tired of crying, tired of fighting. The entire week, I’d distanced myself to the world around me, relishing in the quiet and going through the motions.
Even in the hall when the release of her journal had gone down, people turning against one another, claws coming out, havoc-wreaking, tears pouring, I just couldn’t seem to care anymore. Mia had walked past me, my little explosion of hope, to see all mine had vanished. Perhaps on the outside to everyone else, it had, but my heart still jolted, reminding me it was broken by what was happening to her.
Because what happened to her happened to me.
The worst part of caring too much, of feeling too much, of having too much to give, was that eventually you drain from being too much for too long. My fucks to give had a number, and between the medication and my tank depleted, I’d finally landed in the center of the storm out of gas. The place I remember so vividly, and it welcomed me with open arms.
But as I stood there, Mia rang in my ear like a tiny bell, unwilling to let me go completely.
Showering that night was a walk in the park. No one talked to me anymore besides Maddie and Bria—Maddie still wanting to jump my bones, and my bone not wanting to jump inside her. Whenever I found myself alone with her, she’d try, but it never led anywhere. The only girl my body seemed to want was Mia.
My john wouldn’t even take to my own hand.
I stood under the warm shower with a palm against the tile.
The room hummed around me, every stall occupied.
My body was tense, needing to rid myself of the arousal that had been built up since last week. My aching knob stood out in front of me, heavy and angry, and every ounce of blood rushing to its surface. Grabbing it with one palm, it twitched in my hand, confused by the reminder of being in the soft tightness of Mia. I yanked on it, dragging my teeth against my bottom lip to fight off the hiss wanting to leave. My eyes screwed shut, and I selfishly remembered the way Mia felt, her warmth clenching around me, pounding, pulsing. A small groan left me as I fucked my hand, pretending to be inside her.
But it was no use.
“Dammit, Mia,” I breathed, releasing my dick and slamming both my palms against the tile.
Despite the void, every part of me still belonged to her. My head knew it. My heart knew it. My soul knew it. Even my fucking cock knew it. How long would it take for every part to come to a mutual understanding there is no such thing as forever?
“Times up, Masters,” Scott rang out, and my body went stiff.
After turning the water off, I swiftly ran the towel over my skin, slid on my boxers, and slipped out of the stall. A few people lingered as Scott impatiently stood beside the door. I’d never needed to compare myself to others, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around this one.
Mia liked him, possibly even loved him, and I could learn to be okay with that. If he’d be the one to prevent her from flipping her bloody switch again, I’d pat the bloke on the back before my time ran out at Dolor.
But there were many layers to the bloke standing beside the wall with eyes locked on mine. There was no doubt in my mind, Scott had cruel intentions of being here. Secrets hid behind his façade.
I flipped on the faucet to brush my teeth when I found my reflection in the mirror.
Not me.
Mia.
She stepped out of her stall and stood there with a towel around her tiny figure. Our eyes linked and my hands hit the counter to hold myself up from the power she still had over me. Her coffee-colored eyes held strong, undisturbed by the distance between us. Her perfect lips parted, wanting to say something.Just spit it out, love. If I had to wrap my fingers around her jaw and exhume them myself …
“Let’s go,” Scott barked.
Mia snapped her mouth shut and dropped her towel. She stood stripped and bared. My first instinct was to snatch her up in my arms and remove her from hungry eyes. But then my gaze landed on her fading injuries. Her flawless skin had taken a beating, and my soul went cold. Yellowed patches marked her thighs and hips, and my grip tightened around the edge of the sink as my eyes continued their journey back to her face. “Who did this to you?” I asked, each word pained by the view before me.
“You did.”
