B R E N

The cafe was dead this morning. Zero customers currently filled the space, and god, I wished that it was packed. The clock on the wall at The Grounds had never moved slower. This was the longest, most agonizing shift I'd ever worked.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the actual work. I enjoyed making drinks and roasting and cleaning. The simplicity of it was soothing.

But what was not perfect?

"Bren, just tell me," she pleaded for the fifteenth time.

"Nessa, I'm not going to tell you anything." I snapped a towel over my shoulder before shuffling around her to rinse an empty coffee cup. "I'm mad at you."

"Oh, come on." She rolled her eyes. "I was doing you both a favor. Just tell me what happened after you left the party."

"Nothing happened," I asserted, staring at the soapy water in the sink even though all the dishes had been done.

Nothing had happened, and yet everything had.

Nessa blinked at me beneath her long, dark lashes. "I know you're lying, Bren Hadaway. I know you stayed in our room."

"Only because Beau wouldn't let me back into ours." I threw down the towel, growing irritable. Well, more irritable.

I was so profoundly screwed. I was screwed in that way that a person got screwed when they openly declared their feelings for a person who was actively in love with someone else. And now I had these memories I would never unsee, never forget.

I was going to be chasing the high of last night for the rest of my goddamn life.

But I couldn't bring myself to regret anything that had happened last night, because I saw how it affected Madie—the way her eyes had opened wide in awareness for the first time.

Though, as much as I wanted that for her, I also felt some small amount of guilt. None of what we did, the things we said, the way we touched, had been appropriate considering her relationship with Quinton. I didn't feel bad for him. Hell, no. I just knew that it would hurt Madie in a way.

But the text I sent her about it going too far hadn't gotten a response.

I frowned. Finally moving away from the sink, I glanced up to see Nessa's smirking face. It stopped me in my tracks.

"What?"

"Good thing I didn't come home last night either, huh?"

There were several beats of silence as I absorbed her words. "You and Beau planned that shit, didn't you?" I accused as the realization hit me.

Nessa shrugged one of her shoulders and readjusted her mustard-yellow beanie, but that expression of hers told me all I needed to know.

"Seriously, Nessa?" I groaned. "What did you guys really think was going to happen? She's still dating Quinton."

"Yes," Nessa said, walking over to grab a broom. She leaned on it, one elbow propped up on the end of the handle. "But not for long." She checked her watch. "In fact, it might be over by now."

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Nessa began, clutching on to the broom with excitement, "Madie texted me this morning that she was going to go talk to Quinton today."

"About what?" To my ears, my voice sounded hollow.

"About ending it, of course."

"Shit, Nessa," I swore as I immediately began to try to untie my apron. But my hands were shaking, and it took more than a few times to get through the knot. Eventually, I tossed it off, throwing it at Nessa before jumping over the counter. 

"Bren, what?" I barely caught a glimpse of her baffled face as I called back to her.

"Cover for me!

And with that, I was out the door, barely looking where I was going as I tore across the street and back onto campus. A string of swear words left my lips, creating a soundtrack for this nightmare.

I would never have guessed that she'd be ready to leave Quinton today. If I had known she was going to do that, I would have talked to her.

I would have warned her.

Shutting my brain off before memories could flood in, I darted between students with their books and their AirPods and their disillusionment.

I'd long learned how to shut out ghosts of my past, but the accompanying fear was harder to ignore. It filled my pumping arteries as I pushed myself up the final hill before getting to our dorm. Bursting through the doors, I sprinted to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time until I hit our floor.

And when I rounded the corner into the long hallway of rooms, I nearly collapsed.

Relief spread through me at the sight of Madie standing in the middle of the hall. She looked bewildered, probably in response to my crashing entrance. I briefly put my hands on my head, trying to catch my breath as I walked toward her.

I quickly assessed the situation, my gaze flicking across her body. There was no blood, none of that gushing, spilling blood. There were no cuts or bruises that I could see—nothing appearing out of the ordinary. Thank god.

Madie's face scrunched up. "Bren?"

I was surprised to see her wearing a lacy white top and grey sweater, which hung down over her jeans. She wasn't wearing one of Quinton's sweatshirts. She wasn't wearing a sweatshirt at all.

"Madie?" Her name was a gasp of air as I continued to try to calm my racing heart. "Are you okay?"

I grew closer. She squinted at me. She didn't move. There was this pinched look on her face like she couldn't decide if she was happy to see me.

"Madie?" I repeated, an uneasiness winding into my veins again as blood pumped to my needy, unsettled heart. "About last night—"

"No, Bren." Her voice was soft, threadbare. She lifted a hand to her head and held it there, wincing when her fingers weaved into mussed strawberry-blonde hair.

"What is it?" I captured her face between both of my hands, searching for whatever was wrong. Something was wrong.

"My head." The words came in a slow, breathy release. Despite saying very little, Madie's energy seemed expelled by the admittance. Her cheek sagged against my palm. The hand that had been entwined in her hair dropped, and I replaced it with my own, looking for any sign of injury.

"What happened to your head, Madie?" I whispered.

"Hit," she said, her eyelids fluttering. "Wall."

I gritted my teeth so hard that pain shot into my gums. My relief had been far too presumptuous.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her scalp, not that I could feel, but I didn't need any more convincing than the two words Madie had just uttered. Hell, even without them, I would have been convinced by the way she was swaying in my arms.

Her hair had fallen like a mask over her face, and I brushed it aside, wanting to see her blue eyes.

They were dull.

I spoke softly. "Madie, we need to get you to a doctor, okay?"

She nodded drunkenly.

"Where's Quinton?" I had to ask, my eyes scanning the area for him just in case he was lurking about. We were standing just outside his door.

She shook her head. "Don't know." Her hand flew up to grab my arm, startling me a bit with her strength. For a split second, those blue eyes were wide. But then her lids began to droop again. "He saw, Bren."

I frowned, not knowing what she meant. But I was more concerned about her head. "Can you walk"

She nodded. But as soon as I saw how slow and uneven she was as she took that first step, I muttered, "Fuck this."

Dropping down, I wrapped one hand beneath her knees and the other around her waist before hoisting Madie up. She didn't even make a noise; her head lolled back, settling on my shoulder.

I wasn't the strongest guy—and Madie wasn't the smallest girl—but I had no intention of waiting around for Quinton to show up. And I certainly didn't want to wait and see what would happen with her head if we didn't leave.

Somehow I made it to my car without having to stop. I carefully placed her on the hood, needing my hands to find the keys and open the door. Madie sat there, hunched over and looking down at her dangling feet. Her heels brushed against the tires of my 2010 Camry. Then she looked up, wincing.

"It hurts, Bren."

I threw open the passenger door before rushing to her side. "Sh, I know. I'm so sorry I left you this morning, Madie."

It was the only thing that I had been thinking about while carrying her down to the parking lot.

I hadn't wanted to go. But I'd woken early, and I realized that if I had to watch Madie sleep for one more minute, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from climbing into that bed and pulling her close.

"Bren, I tried to leave him," she said, the words feather-light as I helped her into the car and hastily pulled on the seat belt, securing it across her lap.

"I know," I breathed, repeating myself. Hating myself. I should have talked to her about this.

I should have warned her.

I paused my movements for just one moment to brush a kiss across her forehead, wanting to dull her pain, wishing I could do more.

Running around to the driver's side, I yanked the door open and climbed in. Luckily, the nearest emergency room wasn't far from campus, and I whipped my Camry out of the student parking lot and in that direction.

It was quiet for a moment as I carefully sped through traffic. When we halted at a stoplight, I ran a shaky hand through my hair. "Madie?"

She didn't reply, so I glanced over to see her head leaning back, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

I jostled her leg. "Madie!"

Jerking awake, she blinked over at me.

"Christ, don't fall asleep on me, okay?" I gave her thigh a little squeeze and then left my hand there, holding onto her. Her head tilted forward in the tiniest nod.

The light turned green.

I breathed out, blowing through my lips. "Can you tell me anything else that happened?"

"He saw, Bren," she said quietly as I made the final turn before the hospital. "Be...careful."

"Saw what, Madie? What did he see?"

She swallowed. Her eyelids slid closed again.

"Your text."

🖤
But where the eff did Quinton go?
xoxo amelie