Page 80 of Before the Encore

Madison’s heart pulsed under Bonnie’s fingertips, her gaze holding hers. A sheen of sweat covered Madison’s forehead, reflected under the white streetlight, her black eyeliner smudged around her eyes. Outside noise trickled back in. The music thumped but quieter. A passing car splashed through a puddle. Bonnie’s heartbeat pounded loud in her ears—ba-dum, ba-dum.

Slowly, Bonnie came back to herself, goosebumps prickling her arms under the night sky.

“Here.” Madison shrugged her leather jacket over her shoulders. “Let me take you home.”

Madison called an Uber, only speaking to ask Bonnie’s address. While they waited, she let the quiet sit, her hand laced through Bonnie’s, her cool fingers grounding her.

Madison didn’t let go of her hand until they were back inside the penthouse. She guided her into the bedroom, the sprawling city twinkling at them through the windows. Bonnie still felt far away, like she was tethered to a balloon somewhere outside of her body. And if Madison let go, she’d be swallowed by the dark sky.

But Madison’s hands steadied her, undoing the zip at her back and letting her dress pool at her feet with a whisper. Bonnie flinched, her bare skin exposed to the cold room.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Madison’s voice wrapped around her like a blanket, comforting her. Slowly, Madison dressed Bonnie in the comfies she’d left on the bed in preparation, an oversized T-shirt and a pair of soft shorts, smoothing back the hairs that had ruffled out of place. Warm light pooled across the bed from the lamp on the bedside table.

“Wait here?” Madison asked, pulling back the white duvet and patting the mattress.

Bonnie climbed onto the bed, slipping beneath the covers, tugging them up to her shoulders like armour.

“I’ll be right back.”

Bonnie looked out her window at the city below, each building lit up like tiny fireflies caught in a jar. Cupboards opened and closed in the kitchen. The tap whooshed; the kettle hummed. Bonnie snuggled further into the duvet, her mind racing through the day’s events. Her mum. Madison. The show. Olivia. Rory.

The last one sent a chill up her spine, and she shivered.

Madison returned with a glass of water and a mug of steaming ginger and honey tea. She gave her a smile that warmed the cold in her centre. “You should drink something.”

She reached for the tea, and Madison set the water on the bedside table, condensation already sliding down the glass.

Madison hesitated by the bed, hand brushing the tattoos running up her arm. “Do you want me to leave?”

Her voice came out in a soft croak, barely recognisable. “Stay.”

Madison nodded, unbuttoning her jeans and tugging them off before climbing into the free side of the bed in her boxers.

Bonnie brought the mug to her lips, cradling the warmth, breathing in the ginger and sweetness. Madison opened her arm, and she nestled into her shoulder, letting the soft thump of her heart calm her own. Bonnie sipped at the tea, the warmth soothing her throat like healing balm, soaking into her bloodstream. Madison’s fingertips drifted down Bonnie’s arm, her chin resting gently on her head.

After a long while, Madison asked quietly, “Do you have panic attacks a lot?”

The question stirred inside her. A montage of memories flashed behind her eyelids. “I used to. I got them under control, but recently…they’ve been coming back. When my anxiety and stress levels are high, it’s harder to manage.”

“You’re always stressed.”

“It comes and goes. It’s been worse recently.”

Madison hummed. “Have you spoken to someone about your panic attacks?”

“I see my doctor, she’s great. But I’ve been busy lately.”

“You should see her when you go back to LA.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The unspoken elephant in the room settled between them. But Madison didn’t push. Didn’t probe her for the reason why. Her fingertips drew soft circles on Bonnie’s arm, letting the quiet be a comfort and not a ticking time bomb.

Words rested on the edge of her tongue. You can do this. Bonnie swallowed, her throat tight. Her fingers trembled.