M A D I E

November Eighteenth

Two

I'm a little more broken

than I thought.

--

Bren didn't keep me at a distance, not like before. He held me at night, during the day, all the time. Sometimes it seemed like he was searching for any excuse to touch me, even though he didn't need one. He was ready; I could tell.

But I realized I wasn't.

I had wanted so badly to be ready for Bren. He made me feel so good at a time when I felt so bad. Never a distraction but maybe a drug, something I used to relieve the pain when it became too much.

But then he'd stormed down the stairs with my hospital discharge papers shaking in his hand, and I unraveled. I gave in. Let him push me until I fell over the edge and felt all the pain. The confessions were a broken damn. A wrecking ball into my heart with walls falling down and everything flooding out. Everything that I'd lost. Everything that I'd gone through. And it hurt. It hurt so damn bad.

I saw it in Bren's eyes. I saw when he realized just how bad it was. Just how much pain I'd been hiding. When he offered to take it all away, to make me feel something other than this gut-wrenching sickness, I nearly gave in.

But I was falling for Bren.

I was falling for him, and I wanted to know what it would feel like to be with him without the lingering pain beneath the surface. Just him, nothing else. And that was when understanding dawned on me.

Bren never let himself lose control completely, and it was because he wanted what I did. He wanted to know that when we were together, it was us and only us. And shit, that made my heart hurt too, but in an entirely different way.

So I sank into the discomfort. The pain.

I owed to him. But mostly, I owed it to myself.

It morphed between the physical pain in my head and the pain that tore through my heart. More than anything, though, I was struck with terror. Terror because of how close I'd come to, well, dying. Or living a life that would have been a lie. I wasn't sure which one would have been worse.

I embraced it all. The first night after Bren got me to spill everything, my tears had soaked the pillows in our bed, leaking from me like my secrets. Bren held me until it stopped, and I'd never felt so safe. It was nearly a heart-stopping realization, how I trusted him to care for me in a way no one else had. And that led to my final confession.

The next morning, I admitted to Bren that the parts of me that Quinton broke hadn't been pieced back together yet. There was a pounding in my skull that came and went. Fatigue that blasted through me without warning. Disorienting fog settled and lifted, defying any rhyme or reason.

He suggested we take short walks, tiny steps around the beach to see if I could build up my stamina for activity. Relieved that he hadn't insisted I stay in bed all day, I didn't complain about his idea. In fact, I loved strolling by the ocean with him. Sometimes Bren grabbed my hand, pulling me along. Other times, he shoved his fists deep into his pockets and kicked the sand as he dodged the waves. I liked both. It didn't matter.

At first, we didn't make it very far before I wanted to turn around. Bren ran up the sandbank and found a stick, shoving it in the earth. "Tomorrow, we're going to go a little further," he said afterward.

And we did.

We'd been taking walks for nearly a week when Bren brought along a soccer ball that he'd found in the garage. He carried it for a while, juggling it in his hands while we strolled. And then finally, he threw it down into the sand in front of us.

"Stay here," he said, pointing to a spot in the sand that was a little ways up the shore.

Obeying, I planted my feet and waited for him to run the length of the beach, loving how carefree Bren looked as he splashed through the water.

"Okay, hit me!" he called, spinning around with a grin.

"This is gonna hurt," I muttered inwardly before drawing my bare foot back and letting it loose on the ball, which flew at Bren.

It did hurt. But it was a satisfying pain. The kind of pain that came with power, even if it was just the smallest bit.

Bren's eyes grew wide as he backpedaled before stopping the ball with his chest. It rolled down in front of him, and he whipped his head up with a grin.

"Damn, girl."

His approving gaze made heat curl up in my chest. It felt good enough that when Bren kicked the ball back to me, I tossed him a smirk before taking off with it, running down the beach.

Bren was hot on my heels. I could hear his laughter mixing with the wind. And then I felt his laughter as he caught up to me, running alongside me. Passing the ball to the side, he kicked it ahead, and then the two of us were racing, sand flying as we chased a high.

I knew I was pushing it. But I had to. I had to push past the pain to breach that little slice of freedom. To know it was still out there.

Bren caught up with the ball first, but that didn't mean I let him keep it. I stole the ball from him, and then he stole me, grabbing hold of my waist and sweeping me into the air. He kicked the soccer ball straight out from under my airborne feet.

"You cheater!" I squealed, taking off across the beach as soon as Bren set me back down. Once again, his genuine, deep laughter followed me.

I lost track of time as Bren and I played in the sand. He put a stop to it before too long, though, picking up the ball and tucking it beneath his arms to keep it from me. I tried to pout, even though a light sweat had broken out on my hairline, fatigue flooding me as the adrenaline faded.

"We can play a little longer tomorrow," he said. Just like what he'd said about the walks. A little bit more. Every day.

"Fine," I relented, and Bren grabbed my hand, leading me back to the beach house. We walked in silence. All I heard was the wild thumping of my heart in my chest and the waves. Bren's thumb rubbed along the back of my hand, soothing me.

He was so patient. The walks, the soccer, the long nights lying side by side without giving in. And he deserved to know what kept swirling around in my mind.

"You were right," I said, the words falling out of my mouth without another thought.

His head whipped up, hair wild, eyes bewildered.

"What?"

"I was jumping into you too fast."

There was a tightening in his jaw as he stopped walking to look at me. "Madie, you know I regret saying all of those things. I know you weren't trying to use me—"

"I wasn't trying to use you, but I...was," I cut in. "I was using you to prove something to myself. And to you."

"Madie," Bren began, his voice strained. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn't know where to start. His eyes darted out across the ocean before coming back to me. They softened, and I knew all I needed to.

He reached out slowly, his hand coming to cup my cheek. A little bit of sand stuck to his fingertips, and it felt gritty against my skin. But also real.

This was real.

"Madeline," he breathed, the wind carrying my name away.

The intensity in his gaze was almost too much, and I let my eyelids flutter shut.

"You've been giving me space," I said quietly, "and I needed it. I understand that now. Thank you."

Bren dropped his hand, and I opened my eyes again.

"Fuck, I'm trying, anyway. Even though every day gets a little bit harder because—" He bit off his words, and I understood.

Because we fit so perfectly together. Because when his body brushed against mine in the morning, all I wanted was to lean into how it made me feel when we were together. Because his hands had the tendency to inch beneath my shirt like they had a mind of their own. Because I could literally feel his erection pressing against my back at night, and if he dared to dip his hand between my legs again, he'd feel how much I wanted him, too.

We'd had a taste of each other. And now we needed more.

"I know," I whispered. "I want you, too."

He nodded stiffly like his restraint was wavering. But at the same time, relief washed over his face. Relief and desire and tenderness all rolled into one.

I wasn't going to ask him to wait much longer. I couldn't wait much longer. I just needed to acknowledge this pain for a little bit so my brain could process everything, every little shitty broken piece.

And then I would let Bren take it all away.

He stepped into me, his hand releasing mine to trail up my arm.

"I'm ready, Madie," he said, his voice dropping below the crash of the ocean waves. "Just tell me when you are."

He pressed the soccer ball into my chest, and I took it from him as he raised a brow.

"The ball's in your court, baby."

Laughing, I rolled my eyes.

"That's a different sport."

He flashed me a soul-shattering smile.

"Doesn't matter. As long as you're playing, I'm game."

—

November Eighteenth

Three

Once I pick up my pieces,

will you put me back together?

🖤

this is a chapter in Madie's journey that i always felt was missing so i wanted to add it.
thanks so much for reading!
xoxo amelie