Page 138 of Breakaway Hearts

“She’s the strongest, toughest person I know, but there were months when I thought I lost her, and I will not let her go back there, you hear me?”

I nod, not really sure what else I can say to that, but all I want to do now is get back to her.

“Wake me if you leave so I can reset the alarm.”

Jason pats me on the shoulder before going to his bedroom, seemingly giving me permission to stay.

I finish my glass of water and sigh. I am totally ill-prepared for this, and kind of terrified I’ll break her, but there’s also nowhere else I’d rather be.

I go back to Madison’s room, and the second I climb into bed, Maddie turns over and rests her head on my chest. I cover us with a blanket and wrap my arms around her as much as I can without suffocating her. It’s not quite soundly, but she’s sleeping, and it’s not a church, nor am I particularly religious, but I make a promise to whoever is out there to keep her safe.

Chapter Sixty-One

Madison

Better this way

For the first time in forever, I wake up alone and wish someone else was in the bed beside me. I vaguely remember Owen kissing the top of my head before going to practice, promising he’d be back after, but I’d hoped that was a dream.

I assume Owen didn’t tell anyone, and I don’t think Tabytha is a gossip, but the alternative is that I look so bad at kickboxing class that Savannah and Bree are painfully gentle and look at me like I’m about to break. It’s infuriating when all I want to do is hit things and for people to not acknowledge it if that makes me break down in tears. I like to be strong and feel tough, but letting someone in, telling them what happened…it feels like everyone knows now, and they’re not looking at me like they used to. I’m suddenly the girl who was drugged and raped, when I want to get as far away from her as I can.

Unfortunately, there’s also a group of guys at this class, and every time they laugh, I hear the guys from that room and punch harder, every grunt makes me shudder, and the longer we keep this up, the less will be left of these pads.

I am not fit for company today, I just want to be alone in my bed, under the covers.

The guys from class flirt with the instructor, and I’m so fixated on making sure she feels safe that I don’t even hear when Sav invites me to hang out until Team Dinner, which I don’t feel up to. I just watch to make sure the instructor’s okay, that she trusts them, and hope she’s a better judge of character than I was.

Or that she wouldn’t have to worry about something like that, but the reality is that it happens. Way more than it should. It’s underreported or dismissed, and the perpetrators rarely pay. Which sucks, but I think it’s worse that other women don’t know who not to trust because of it, or they see acquitted and innocent as the same thing when it most definitely is not. The thought of Trevor and his friends doing that to someone else, that I failed to protect her the way Trevor didn’t protect me…it makes me sick.

I go home with every intention of working on an assignment until Owen and Jason get back, but I find myself staring at a blank document instead. And once I finally start typing, I can’t stop, not even when the guys get home and make us lunch, or when Owen spends the afternoon ‘doing homework’ which mostly consists of watching me.

I share every sordid detail of what happened to me at Trevor’s, at the police station, at school. I reread it a few times when I’m done, make a few edits, and decide that yes, I should keep their names in it, because telling people there are monsters among us isn’t as helpful as showing them who they are.

Once I’m satisfied, I send it to Michaela before I can change my mind.

“That must be some article,” Owen points out.

“I hope so,” I agree, letting him take me in his arms, which have no right making me feel so safe.

“You hungry?”

“Starving. I can make—team dinner!” I get up in a panic.

“You’re about an hour late on that, and I’m sure Mike has it under control.”

“You’re supposed to be there.”

“Unless you want to go, this is where I’m supposed to be.”

I want to argue and tell him he should be with his teammates, that I’m fine. But I don’t feel up to a room full of hockey players, and I selfishly don’t want him to go.

“Grilled cheese or pasta?” he asks like he has no intentions of leaving. “You know what? We’ll do both.”

He makes me dinner and we watch Hunters of Time on the couch, and I almost don’t feel broken.

I walk to Dr. Kapoor’s on Monday afternoon, grateful he stayed on campus. It’s pretty empty for Thanksgiving break, which is nice, but also kind of weird. I’m only going home for a few days with Jason, who still has practice and games, because I can’t stand my mom looking at me like he did that summer. Which she will if she sees me. Or as soon as Michaela prints the article.

Speaking of…