Lottie gets me a glass of water from the kitchen and sits with her hand on mine and her head leaning against my shoulder while I catch my breath. She doesn’t try to distract me or push me through it. She just sits with me, steady and calm. It’s like she sees that I’m drowning and doesn’t hesitate to wade in after me, to hold me up until I can breathe again. It unsettles me in the softest, most disarming way.
I’m not used to anyone steadying me when I shake. Even when I was a kid, I never went to others for comfort when I was sad or overwhelmed. I have a vivid memory of my mom finding me crying at the kitchen table when I was around 9 years old. She looked at me for a moment, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “Fix your face, Madeline,” she said, before turning and leaving the room.
My parents never soothed. They never held us or helped us work through big feelings. They assessed, evaluated, criticized. I learned early on that tears weren’t going to get me anywhere, and that affection wasn’t automatic, it was something to be earned—and the way to earn it wasto be perfect.
Cara and Ryan have always been in my corner, but even with them I’m not totally vulnerable. I don’t break down. I’m the sensible one. The one who absorbs disappointment and heartache and tucks it away until it stops hurting.
My eyes are still damp when a sudden knock snaps both of our heads toward the door. I push to my feet, crossing the living room and open the door to find Jesse standing in the hallway. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his jaw clenched as though he’s been grinding his teeth since I left him. His eyes sweep over me from head to toe like he’s looking for marks, trying not to show the panic simmering underneath.
“I saw your mom and sister leave,” he says. “I was sitting in the parking lot wondering if I should stay or go when they came out. I just…needed to make sure you’re okay.”
He always seems to show up at the exact moment everything inside me feels too heavy. Just having him near me eases the tightness deep in my chest. It probably isn’t smart of me to have him here after the threat my mother dangled over me about his brother, but I want him. All I want is to sink into the one place that makes me feel safe lately, and that for me is Jesse.
He steps closer, eyes roaming over my face. “Mads, what happened?”
I step back to let him in. “Come inside.”
The door closes behind us with a soft click, and that’s when I remember Lottie. She’s no longer curled on the couch. She’s standing next to the coffee table, beaming.
“Jesse, this is my roommate, Charlotte.”
“Wow,” she says, clapping her hands once. “You are good looking. I mean, I did see you that night at Replay, but it’s always dark in there and I was pretty focused on the music. And I think you were pretty focused on Madeline. Anyways, nice to meet you, Jesse.”
Jesse laughs, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
She shakes his hand, giving Jesse a sharp, assessing look like she’s silently warning him not to screw this up. “Okay. Well, I really need to do a grocery run, so I’m going to leave you two to talk. And you two really should talk.”
Once Lottie has left, Jesse wraps his hand around mine and leads me to the couch. “What does she mean, Mads? What should we be talking about? There’s something wrong. You’vebeen crying.” His thumb drags over my knuckles, slow and coaxing. “Talk to me. Please. Tell me what you need so I can be there for you.”
Tears press hotly behind my eyes before I can stop them. God, this is so much harder than I thought. “It’s my mom,” I breathe, then pause, struggling to find the right words. Jesse angles his body toward mine, waiting.
“She just… she’s pushing me to go to a donor event with Elliot?—”
“She’s on that again?”
“It’s not a request this time,” I say, blinking fast as my vision blurs. “It’s more like a demand. She has…leverage.”
Jesse’s jaw flexes. “What kind of leverage?”
I swallow. “She told me my father had someone digging into your family.” I wince. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. Even for them this is…a lot.” I look at him, wishing I could undo all of this.
“It’s okay,” he says. His voice is gentle, but he’s sitting up straighter now, listening intently. “What did she say?”
“They found something on Wes…something from his past that he wouldn’t want in the media. She didn’t tell me what.” My voice shakes. “She said she’d use it unless I cooperate.Unless I go to some political function with Elliot and play the part she wants.”
Jesse’s face goes quiet in a way that’s almost frightening, like he’s making calculations in his head.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I hate that they’re like this. I hate that I let it get to me. And I hate that I had to even say it out loud to you, because it feels like…like I’m dragging you into my family’s mess.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I look away, embarrassed, but Jesse cups my chin gently, turning my face back to his.
“Madeline,” he says softly. “Look at me. You didn’t drag me into anything. You told me the truth. None of this is your fault.”
“I didn’t want to keep it from you,” I whisper. “I couldn’t.”
His thumb brushes my cheek, catching a tear before it falls. “You can come to me with anything. Always. Do you hear me? If someone hurts you, I want to hear about it.” He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“You say that, Jesse, but it’s not too late to walk away. I would understand. My family isn’t easy.”
