She was still looking at me. Fuck. The timing couldn’t be worse.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I stumbled a few steps forward. “I know I did. I could tell after… after that night. And then nothing. Not a word. I thought—shit—I thought maybe I hurt you. Not physically. Never that. Fuck. Never. But emotionally, I—I talk too much. It’s the wrong things.”
“You’re rambling.”
“I’m wrecked,” I slumped down beside the couch. My head leaned against the edge of the cushion where her thigh was. “You don’t get it. I’ve been sitting in my own mind for two weeks and every thought ends in you.”
She reached for the glass of water on the coffee table. Held it out.
I looked at her hand like it was a lifeline, then took the glass and drank. It didn’t help. Still felt like my chest was caving in.
“Why’d you come?” I asked, eyes locked with hers.
“I wanted to see you,” she said. “Face to face. No hiding.”
“You came to end it properly.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you matter to me. And because…” she glanced down. “You didn’t deserve silence.”
“I deserved worse,” I whispered. “You should’ve screamed at me. Said you hated me. At least I’d know you felt something.”
“I did feel something.”
Her words gutted me.
And maybe the alcohol made it worse, everything in me cracked wide open, but I shifted, pressed my forehead against her knee like some broken thing crawling back to the warmth it didn’t deserve.
“I thought you were a fever. A flash. Something too good to keep. But you stayed, and it fucked me up, Madeline. You fucked me up. In a good way, but still—fuck.”
She ran a hand through my hair. Her fingers touching me so softly as if I would break.
“You need sleep,” she said softly.
“I need you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I let her help me up. Didn’t argue when she took my arm and looped it around her shoulder. I leaned on her more than I should’ve. But she didn’t flinch.
Step by step, she walked me to the bedroom. Said nothing about the state of it. The untouched bed. The shirt she’d worn and left behind. I’d folded it. Kept it like an idiot.
She guided me to the mattress and eased me down.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No.”
I’d taken the weight of Villain, rising six kids since I was seventeen but it was a twenty year old blonde with a killer smile that broke me.
She climbed in beside me. Pulled the blanket over both of us. I turned into her before I could stop myself. Her hand rested on my chest, over my heartbeat.
“It hurts,” I shut my eyes. Let my head fall to her shoulder. And then, because she was there and I couldn’t stop myself from talking.
“I really liked you.” I murmured. “I don’t like many people. No one. If I’m honest.”
