"Bren..."

She said my name like I was overreacting.

But if I had done more to take care of Quinton, we never would have been in that situation at the bar. I never would have had to stand there, waiting to die while he tried to squeeze the life out of Madie.

I didn't know what I would do to Brodie Thompson, but I wasn't about to walk away without doing something.

"Bren," she repeated, and my eyes flicked up to hers.

Her hair had begun to dry slightly, curling around the soft frame of her face. Her gaze was wide, and I could see every shade of blue in it.

She was such a fucking angel. How the hell did these demons keep getting their hands on her?

"It's taken care of," she said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I squinted a bit—as if my vision was the problem here. "What does that mean?"

"He hasn't bothered me since that day."

"Okay, but is he still breathing?"

"Bren." Madie sighed. And I wasn't sure what it was about that sigh, but it made me grind my teeth. "Yes, Brodie's still breathing," she said. "But Hale kicked him out of his class after he walked in on the whole thing."

My eyes narrowed further. "Hale?"

"My Western Civ professor. The one..." Madie trailed off.

But I was able to pick it up for her. "The one downstairs? With his arm around you?"

Madie's eyes had a little flicker of exasperation as she nodded.

Leaning back in the tub, I mulled that over for a second before saying, "First name basis, huh?"

This time, the exasperation that flashed across her face wasn't slight. "He asks all the students to call him that. And he got Brodie in a ton of trouble for what he did and was really nice to me when I needed it."

I held my tongue. Because I was conflicted as fuck. Was I thankful that someone had been there to help her? Of course, I was. I was so goddamn grateful for that.

But all I could see was Hale leaning over to whisper in Madie's ear downstairs.

"Earlier, he was checking in to make sure that Brodie hadn't been bothering me," Madie said, interrupting my internal brooding.

My anger twisted. Because I realized it wasn't the first name, or the nice gestures, or the downstairs whispering that bothered me. It was the fact that someone else had been there for Madie when I wasn't.

I should have been there. I should have fucking been there. And if she would have told me about this when it happened, that would have been the only thing on my mind.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

She hadn't told me a goddamn thing.

I took a breath to steady myself before I asked coolly, "Why does your college professor know more about what's going on with you than me, Madie?"

My lips parted as his question forced the air from my body.

Bren's eyes glittered darkly. His hard chest heaved up and down, and I realized that Bren was at a tipping point. He wasn't just pissed at Brodie or jealous because of Hale; he was hurt.

"He doesn't know more than you," I said, but I realized from Bren's expression that I'd waited too long to say it.

"He knew about Brodie," Bren replied flatly.

"Well, he was there when it happened."

The words were sour as they fell off my tongue, and Bren ignored them.

"Why didn't I?" he asked. "Why didn't I know about Brodie?"

I sank down in the tub a little bit, wanting to disappear. I breathed in and out once. My breath created ripples in the bathwater. "Bren, I didn't want to tell you because—"

"No shit you didn't want to tell me," he cut in angrily. He still leaned back against the opposite side of the tub. His reclined position made him look relaxed, but I knew better than to believe it.

"Please just listen," I said quietly.

But it was too late. Bren wasn't just at the tipping point; he'd gone over the edge. He shook his head before letting it fall into his hands. Tangling his fingers in his hair, he let out a frustrated growl. And when he whipped his head back up, red circles rimmed the eyes that stared at me through fading steam. "I thought we were over this, Madie."

"Over what?"

He threw his hands in the air, and shimmering droplets made little plopping sounds as they fell back into bathwater. "I thought we were over you hiding bruises and shit from me!"

"It's not like that," I argued, a pleading note in my voice.

"How is it not like that?" Bren shot back. "After everything we've been through, I can't—" He thrust his hand into his hair again, slicking it back as his mouth snapped shut. When he finally spoke again, it was barely audible. "I can't believe you kept this from me, Madie."

I gaped at him, realizing what he was doing as he braced his hands on the sides of the tub. "Fuck, this hurts," he breathed out before hoisting himself out of the water.

Not knowing what to say, I swallowed the lump in my throat and watched as Bren wrapped a towel tight around his hips. Without looking back, he stalked over to the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and I similarly shut my eyes to block tears from falling.

I'd been so worried about protecting my own feelings that I didn't even think about how it would hurt him to be left in the dark. I knew he'd be upset. But shit, this was more than that.

I gave us both a minute to breathe before I slipped out of the tub, grabbed the fluffy hotel robe from the chair nearby, and walked to the bathroom.

"Bren?" I ventured. Leaning my forehead against the door, I ignored the water pooling at my feet. "Bren, I—"

"The door is open."

I didn't open it. Because for some reason, it was easier this way.

"Everything we've been through is exactly why I didn't tell you," I whispered against the grain.

Bren jerked the door open. His towel hung low on his hips, momentarily distracting me. He'd had abs before, but now he had abs. And they were wet.

I knew I should stop staring, but it was hard. It was hard because, well, Bren was hot. But it was also hard because I was scared to glance up and see the look on his face.

When I found the courage to confront the damage I'd done, I dragged my gaze up to his. His brows were furrowed, his whole expression twisted as he waited for me to say more.

Stepping into the bleach-white bathroom so I could be closer to him, I said, "One time you told me that I—" The words caught in my throat, and I reached out, resting my hand over his heart. Bren sucked in at the slight touch, and I leaned into him a little. "You told me that I have a fire that burns within me," I whispered. "And that I should never let anyone put it out."

He blinked down at me, and I saw his eyes soften.

After taking a deep breath, I admitted, "Well, I did. I let Brodie put it out, and I hate that. I hate that you left me on my own, and I—"

Bren shook his head before interrupting me. "I should have been there. I never even thought—"

"No, Bren." I raised my voice a bit. He needed to let me finish. "That's not the point."

He pursed his lips and raised a brow. It was as if to say he would let me make my point...but he wasn't going to be happy about it.

"I was too ashamed to tell you the truth, Bren," I said, the words finally tumbling out of my mouth. "That's why I didn't tell you. I was worried you'd be even more disappointed in me than I was in myself. Because I did the one thing you told me never to do."

Bren blinked several times before saying, "Disappointed?" I tried to look away, but Bren caught my chin. "Madie—"

"He put his hand on me. And all I wanted was for it to be over, Bren," I said, gasping now, not even trying to keep the tears from falling anymore. "I stopped fighting back, and I just let it...happen."

The sad taste of salt hit my tongue as I added softly, "I've done that once before, too. Well, far too many times before."

Something inside Bren broke; it was clear from his expression. And the thick sound of his voice as he asked, "Fuck, can I hold you?"

I nodded, and Bren didn't wait a second before wrapping his arms around my waist and drawing me into a tight embrace. And then he spun us around and hoisted me onto the bathroom countertop. Parting my legs, he wedged himself between them and refused to let me go.

Clutching him just as tight, I squeezed my eyes shut and just breathed.

God, I needed this hug. I had needed it for weeks.

"Holy shit, Madie," Bren breathed in my ear. "I'm not disappointed in you. I have never and will never think less of you for the things that have happened to you."

He sighed as I felt him nudge the edge of the robe aside, tracing my shoulder—the bruise—with a single finger. "I hate this," he went on. "I hate that he fucking touched you. But I almost hate even more that he made you doubt yourself."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I mumbled into his chest.

Bren shoved his head into the crook of my neck, placing a soft kiss there. "Just please be honest with me from now on," he said after a long pause, repeating my words from earlier. "Okay?"

Nodding, I said, "Okay."

After releasing a heavy sigh, I looked up at him. "Bren?"

He was already gazing down at me. "Madie," he murmured, brushing my damp hair out of my eyes. All of the hard lines of his face were soft. And the combination was a fierce tenderness that took my breath away.

"Do you remember that one time you told me that if what I needed was to feel, you'd make me feel?" I asked.

Bren chuckled lightly. "You don't forget anything I say, do you?"

I shook my head, not taking my eyes off of him.

"Yes," he answered my question softly. "Of course I remember that."

It was hard to reply right away. Bren's tiny smile had faded, and he slowly lowered his gaze to my lips before lifting it back up. We were so close that I could see the golden flecks that made his brown eyes so warm. Everything was warm as we were wrapped there in each other's arms.

And all I needed right now was to stay like this for the rest of the night—to stay where I was safe, good, and warm. More than warm. Hot.

"I need you to make me feel," I whispered.

He gave me a look as if to ask if I was sure. And I was. So I repeated softly, "Make me feel, Bren."

"If that's what you need." His hand slid up my cheek, cupping it. He tilted my face, finding the right angle. And then Bren whispered that he loved me as he caught my lips with his.

Bren didn't stop kissing me for a long time after that. He didn't stop kissing me as he carried me back to the bed. He didn't stop kissing me as he pulled back the covers and dipped us beneath them. He didn't stop when our breathing grew heavy, and our hands began to wander beneath towels and robes. He didn't stop when I clawed at his bare, muscled back and begged for more. For everything.

Bren made me feel a million things.

And not a single one of them was guilt. Or disappointment. Or doubt.

Bren made me feel a million things. And every single one of them was...loved.

I felt loved.

I was loved. I really was.

🤍

thank you so much for reading.
you are all the best.
xoxo amelie