My heart.

Quinton had filled it. And then he'd cracked it.

Like my skull.

And then there was him. Him—this boy whose breath was currently hitting the curve of my neck as he slept peacefully. An arm was thrown over my waist, a leg wrapped around my leg. Tucked into me, tucked into my heart.

My heart.

Bren had filled it. And then Quinton broke it again when he pulled that trigger.

And for a moment—that long, agonizing moment—I thought that was it. The crack of the gun, Bren falling to the ground, blood. For a moment, I thought that bullet had struck true, and the shards of my shattered heart would strike me too. And neither Bren nor I would survive.

For a moment, I was sucked down, drowning.

Drowning, drowning. Any flame, any fire that had been lit within me was no match for the dousing, no match for the seas that rose at the sight of Bren standing beneath the dingy light in a dive bar, telling me it would be okay. Telling me goodbye.

Drowning.

Because freedom was nothing without him. He was my freedom.

Because every fire needs a spark. And he was mine.

He'd fallen to the ground, and I'd drowned. But then his head flew up, that shaggy hair falling over brown eyes—brown eyes that found mine. And he breathed my name, and I breathed.

I glanced over at him now, his eyelids fluttering lightly as sleep gripped him. He almost always woke before me. This was new. His sharp jawline was slack, soft. His hair was a disaster that I loved. Those eyelashes that I envied curved gently upward. And the faint light of dawn seeped through wooden blinds, hitting Bren in a way that revealed all his vulnerabilities.

Not that I hadn't seen them before. Not that I hadn't seen them that night. In that moment.

I traced the edges of the bandage on his shoulder with my fingertips, noticing a bit of blood that had dried along the fringes. With a frown, I trailed my fingers up to his cheek, resting them there. I needed to get this boy to a doctor today. He shouldn't be bleeding still.

Bren nuzzled his head into my hand, his eyes staying firmly shut as he tilted his head back. It was hard to tell if he was actually awake or not, but I leaned over and brushed my lips over his.

Bren's mouth parted just barely beneath mine, and I kissed him again, a little harder.

And that was all it took. Bren flipped over me. He pushed me down into the mattress with his hard body, my cheek clutched by the palm of his hand, my lips being captured by his. His mouth devoured the sound of my startled gasp.

Apparently, he was awake—in more ways than one.

When he released my lips, he murmured, "Good morning, Madeline." His voice was groggy, his eyes only half-open, but everything else told me that Bren was alert.

I wound my arms around his neck and tugged him back to my mouth, not ready for the moment to end. Bren got the picture, smiling against me as he continued our kiss. I slid my tongue along the edges of his parted lips, and Bren caught it, sucking gently.

A moan slipped from me, vibrating between our pressed mouths. And then Bren took that moment to flex his hips, and I moaned even louder as his erection rubbed between my legs.

He leaned back, and I blinked up at his dark, smiling eyes. His hand cupped over my mouth, covering it as he whispered, "Sh, baby."

But even as he said the words, he moved again—grinding into me. And god, it felt good.

Bren didn't move his hand, seeming to know that I wouldn't be able to keep quiet if he did. Instead, he bent down and murmured against my ear. "I like the way you look in my clothes." His other hand tugged at the bottom hem of his black t-shirt before slipping beneath it to graze fingers along my bare waist.

Well, I liked the way it felt to be in his clothes, so that was good.

Trailing kisses down my neck, Bren said, "I like the way you woke me up, too. I'll have to sleep in more often."

I wanted to tell him that this was hardly considered sleeping in. I didn't know what time it was, but it must still be early. I couldn't say anything though. Not with Bren's hand firmly over my mouth. So I just stared at him as he pulled back, hovering above me.

He looked down, our eyes connecting. His were soft, traces of drowsiness still there. But they were also brimming with...something.

"You know what else I like?" His voice was a husky murmur that had me squirming me beneath him. He smirked, knowing. "You."

And then he started laughing, chuckling to himself. He shook his head, messy hair flopping about. "No, wait. That's not right."

Hey, now. I raised my brows and nipped at the inside of his palm.

A smile stretched across his entire face in a truly rare sight for my moody boy. And then he dipped his head, resting it against mine.

Bren's lips grazed the back of his hand as his voice dropped to say, "That's not right because I—" He jerked his hips into mine. "—fucking—" He did it again, and I couldn't keep my eyelids from fluttering as I moaned into his hand. His eyes flared, darkening as he briefly bit his bottom lip. "—love—" His breathing was harsh now, his voice gravelly. He thrust against me one more time, and I bucked up to meet him, suddenly wishing I wasn't wearing Bren's clothes at all. "—you," he finished, gasping a little.

Bren's hand fell away, his lips replacing the job of covering my mouth as he gave me a quick, intense kiss. "I fucking love you," he whispered, the words brushing over me as I shivered.

But then Bren disappeared, flopping back onto the bed.

Hell no. That wasn't going to work for me.

I crawled on top of Bren. His arms were already thrown back, framing either side of his head on the pillow. I seized both wrists, pinning them there. Bren's eyes grew wide as he stared up at me. "Madeline..."

And then his eyes narrowed, and I couldn't help but smile. Straddling him just right, I enjoyed the way that every single conflicted thought played out on his face. I rolled my body slowly over his, leaning down to breath, "I fucking love you too, Bren Hadaway."

His eyes rolled back. "Oh my god, Madie. We can't—fuck." He exhaled slowly as his eyes flicked up to the ceiling. Finally, he choked out, "Caroline's room is across the hall, and I bet she's still sleeping."

I dismounted, falling back beside him in bed as I muttered, "You started it."

"No," Bren drew out the word, turning on his side to face me. "No, you started it."

With a scoff, I rolled toward him, too. "Because I woke you up with one little kiss?"

The corner of Bren's mouth cocked upward. "That's all it takes, baby."

It was quiet for a moment as I took Bren in. The winter sun was a little brighter now, and his eyes were brighter, too. Glowing. I scooted closer to him and whispered hopefully, "Maybe she won't hear."

Bren grimaced.

"She'll hear if she's upstairs." He quickly looked away and then gave a weird, nervous laugh. "She straight up told me last night that she heard every time I snuck in a girl back in high school."

Suddenly, I was laughing nervously, too. "Really."

Bren glanced at me. "Really."

My laugh faded as I thought about Bren sneaking girls into this very room with its floral curtains and plaid comforter and refurbished, antique-looking furniture. When I'd first walked in here last night, the bedroom had enveloped me in a feeling of Bren and home, but now...

"Madie..." I hadn't even realized that I looked away until Bren's fingers were beneath my chin, tilting it back toward him. There was a little crease between his brows. "What?"

"Just how many girls did you bring back here, Bren?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I winced, hearing how dumb they sounded.

The crease between his brows grew deeper. "I don't...I don't know for sure exactly how many."

I nodded slowly, taking that in. The idea of other girls touching him...of him touching other girls—ugh. Just ugh. God, it was bad enough that I'd always have the picture of him and Nessa seared into my brain.

I knew it was stupid to feel this way, but the discomfort stuck to me like a parasite.

"It was a long time ago, and none of them ever meant anything to me. Nothing like you mean to me," Bren said softly.

"I know," I whispered. But for some reason, I still avoided his eyes. "I know, I just keep picturing—never mind." I shook my head, not really wanting to get into it. I knew it was stupid. But hell, I'd grown just a little possessive of my boy, and I couldn't help it.

"I get it." Bren's voice urged me to look up and meet his gaze.

"You do?"

He laughed, but it contained very little humor.

"I had to watch you with Quinton for three months. And every time you smiled at him, I somehow fell a little bit more in love with you. It was like some kind of awful punishment that I probably deserved but couldn't say why. You think it doesn't kill me when pictures of you and him together creep into my mind? You think—"

"Bren." I cut him off, reaching out to brush the hair out of his eyes, rubbing my thumb over that crease that had appeared and wouldn't go away. "You're right. I'm sorry, baby."

He closed his eyes at my touch. And he kept them closed as he said, "It's okay, Madie. But just know that I get it."

"It's in the past," I whispered. His confession didn't make me feel better, but it did make me feel a little less crazy.

Bren's eyes flicked open, taking in my face. His voice warmed me from the inside as he said, "And you're my future."

I wasn't sure that I would ever get used to the way Bren made me feel. With a smile, I slid my fingers down until I reached his shoulder.

"Speaking of the future..." I flung a pointed look his way. "I want you to live a very long and healthy life. So we're going to the doctor today."

Bren rolled his eyes.

"You can be annoyed about it all you want, but we're going." I would drag him by that shaggy hair of his if I had to.

When his eyes finally quit their dramatic show, they found mine. "Oh really?"

I flashed him another look, daring him to argue. He wasn't going to win this one. "Yes, really."

And then—to my surprise—Bren smirked. "Fuck, you're hot when you're bossy."

I laughed, trying to ignore the heat in his expression. "So does that mean you'll go?"

"Whatever for you, my dear." Bren smiled as he kissed my lips lightly. "Whatever my good girl wants."

"I want you. Whole, healthy, you."

It was hard to tell if Bren said anything back—he was too busy leaving little kisses all over my neck—but I was pretty sure that he murmured, "I'm yours."

My heart.

He was my heart.

My burning, fiery heart belonged to him.

🤍
hey! sorry for the wait, but here we are!
thanks so much for reading.
xoxo amelie