B R E N

Three heavy knocks and Madie still hadn't opened her door.

About a week had passed since the incident at The Grounds.

Midterms had come and gone, but I hadn't seen Madie since that day. She wouldn't even respond to my texts. She wouldn't come to tutoring. She wouldn't come to the fields with me. She'd disappeared.

"Madie," I said, just loud enough that I was sure she could hear me through the door. "Madie, I know you're in there."

Commotion came from inside the room, and I held my breath. The door opened slowly, but the effect that Madie had on me was instantaneous. My stomach dropped at seeing her—my sunny girl overwhelmed by a gray cloud.

Her expression was flat as her face peeked around the door. Strands of strawberry-blonde hair fell into her face as they escaped one of the messiest buns I'd ever seen. Her beauty hadn't faded, but her brightness had.

"Bren?" She seemed surprised to see me, and for some reason, that bothered me. Didn't she realize that her friends were worried about her?

"Nessa told me you'd be here," I said by way of explanation, not waiting for an invitation to step into her room. Again, she looked taken aback. But I was done doing this dance of pretending not to care and staying surface-level with this girl.

"What's up?" she asked, uncertain.

"I'm concerned. About you."

Her eyes flared wide before she closed the door behind me and retreated into her room, sitting on the bed.

"You haven't come to The Grounds or tutoring. And you won't reply to my texts," I added, in case she needed further evidence for my concern.

"I'm just busy, Bren." 

She looked away from me. 

"Busy with what?"

Madie bit her lip, but she didn't respond. Her options were to brush me off or tell the truth, and I could tell she didn't want to do either. So she stayed silent.

Honestly, in a way, it was progress.

I walked Nessa's side of the room as I waited, flipping through her basket of vinyls for one that she'd brought into work the other day. When I first heard it, all I could think of was Madie. There was just something about it. Mellow but bright. A melody you felt in your bones.

Finding the one I wanted, I placed it on Nessa's cheap little turntable, fully intending to find my own copy of the album later. My collection of vinyls was small, and I liked to keep it that way. But I needed this record.

I Should Have Known Better began playing, Sufjan Stevens' soft voice floating into the room.

And then I turned back to Madie and repeated my question.

"What have you been busy with?"

Lifting up her copy of The Awakening, Madie said, "Reading."

"Oh, come on." My exasperation was evident. "You didn't even like that book."

"It's growing on me," she replied, pursing her lips. "And how are your studies coming?"

I leaned against the post of her bed, trying not to think about the last time I stood in this very spot. "Well, I flunked my statistics midterm. But that's not what I came here to talk about it," I said dryly.

"You flunked?" she exclaimed, her blue eyes nearly popping out of her head. "Bren! You were doing so well."

She was right; I had been doing fairly well. And I wasn't looking forward to telling Caroline about how I'd messed up. Shrugging, I looked at her and explained. "I skipped the Midterms study sessions at the center."

"Why?"

I squinted out the window. The brick buildings of Oakland State campus were neat and uniformed, sprawling as far as I could see. We were in our own little bubble here at college, but bubbles were pretty lonely unless you found the right people to sit with you in them.

"Had no one to go with," I mumbled with another shrug, keeping my eyes on the waving American flag in the middle of campus. "Playing soccer by myself isn't very fun, either."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Madie glance down and tuck a hair behind her ear. Her hand lingered there for a moment as she tugged on her hoop earring. The movement drew my attention.

And then I saw the purplish marks, and my attention zeroed in further.

"Madie, what's on your wrist?" I asked, swallowing hard. Even to my own ears, my question sounded strained. Tight words against the soft melody playing in the background.

As usual, Madie wore an oversized sweatshirt. But this one was simply black—no football logos or anything on it. She hastily began to pull down the sleeves of the hoodie, deflecting as usual. So I closed the space between us and silently held out my hand, palm up.

Today, we were both done hiding.

Madie hesitated, looking between my open invitation and her arm, which she had tucked into her chest and covered with her sleeve. There was an internal debate in her eyes, and I put my faith in the idea that she that she could find trust in me.

I wasn't sure how long I waited for her to decide, but it didn't matter.

What mattered was that Madie eventually placed her hand within my palm, her touch light and hesitant. I slowly encased it with my fingers and then rotated, looking at the faint bruises that traveled around her wrist.

Clenching my teeth to withhold a million swear words, I held out my other hand, too. This time Madie didn't pause. She set her palm in mine, and I saw similar marks on her other wrist.

Quinton Reid could go to hell. I hated him more than any other person I'd met—well, except the one. But even while anger lurked in the back of my brain, more potent than that was the fear. God, I was scared for her.

Tracing my thumb over the watercolor marks, I asked the question I was afraid of knowing the answer to. "Madie, was this from him?"

All week there'd been one thought on my mind: if Quinton was bold enough to harass Madie at a coffee shop, then what the hell happened behind closed doors? I supposed this was my answer—or part of it. I'd honestly become too comfortable with bruises, the physical manifestation of some pain lurking just below the skin. But fuck if I was comfortable with them on her.

She didn't remove her hands, but I could see how she fought to stay present, not close herself off. "Bren, you don't understand—"

"I do understand Madie," I interrupted bluntly.

Like I said, we were done with this dance.

"I understand more than you could likely imagine, and it is only going to get worse," I said while trying to soften my tone.

At my words, her eyes turned glassy.

"I know what you're thinking, but Quinton loves me," she protested, and I wondered who she was trying to convince. I'd certainly never be fooled into believing that.

I ran a hand through my hair and tried to keep it from shaking. There was no point in asking what had happened; Madie wasn't going to tell me. "Does he make you feel loved?" I finally asked.

"Sometimes." The word was barely audible.

I lifted her hand up, displaying her bruises. I wished I could make them disappear. I wanted to make it all disappear for her. "Okay. Does this—what he did—make you feel loved?"

She stared down at our linked hands, not speaking, hiding her face from my view.

Sighing, I sat on the bed next to her and released her from my grip. She was still looking at her wrists, so I placed a finger beneath her chin and gently nudged, urging her gaze to mine.

It had been a mistake.

We were too close. I could see the freckle above her lip and smell the faint floral smell on Madie's skin. I could hear the absence of the breath she was holding. I could imagine what I'd do if this were any other time or space. Because I knew that this moment would be completely different if Madie wasn't entwined in toxicity and if I wasn't entrenched in the memories of my past.

"He might make you feel loved sometimes, Madie," I finally choked out, dropping my hand from her face. "But you deserve to feel loved all the time."

Raw emotion twisted across her face, but she didn't say anything.

Leaning back, away from her pull, I settled myself at the corner of her bed. "Here's the catch, though," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, so I didn't do something stupid again. So I didn't touch her again.

She tilted her head, telling me that I had her attention.

"You have to believe it."

"Believe it?" she repeated in a whisper.

"You have to believe that you deserve better." I paused, debating if I should say my next words. But I decided to, knowing that we were trading in vulnerabilities tonight. "I knew someone once. And she never believed that. She never believed she deserved better."

Madie leaned forward, her blue eyes glowing. "And what happened?"

"Nothing ever got better. In fact, it only got so much... worse." I spoke the last word, and that dreaded, unsettled hush overcame the space.

But then the door whipped open, and the quiet was broken.

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This chapter and the next were originally combined, but I had to split them up because it was too long. So the next chapter will be out pretty soon! Thanks all xoxo