Page 155 of Red Zone
“She’s gone.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
Gone.
Madison.
I don’t even think.
My breath catches hard in my throat, and before either of them can say another word, my body is already moving.
I shove past Jaxon, ignoring the startled look on his face, my only thought razor-sharp in my head.
She can’t be out there alone. Not like this.
I hear Carter’s voice behind me, calling after me, his tone edged with frustration and worry.
“Lyla—”
But I don’t stop.
I just shake my head, pushing through the crowd toward the door, muttering under my breath, “She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Shoving through the crammed living room, I rush out the front door and turn toward our apartment. I catch up to her less than a block away, hunched over on the curb, her hands pressed to her face like she can’t breathe. My heart cracks wide open at the sight of my best friend’s shoulders shaking.
“Hey,” I say softly as I approach, crouching down in front of her. “Maddy. Look at me, okay?”
Her tear-streaked eyes blink up at me, dazed and broken, and it nearly brings tears to my own eyes.
“I-I can’t…” she whispers, her breath hitching. “I can’t do this. Not again. Not after?—”
“Shh,” I say immediately, cutting her off before she falls any deeper into whatever pit her mind’s dragging her into. “We’re not talking about that right now. We’re just breathing. That’s all. Just breathe with me, okay? In…”
I inhale and exaggerate it. She watches me like she’s desperate to cling to something, anything, and after a shaky second, she follows.
“Good,” I murmur. My thumb rubs little circles against her knee, just like my mom used to do for me. “You’re okay. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
When her breaths start to come steadier, I help her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
She doesn’t argue, just leans into me like she’s forgotten how to stand on her own.
We make it back to our apartment in silence, outside of her hiccuped breathing, trying to keep the hysteria in. Madison’s fingers stay clenched around my arm the entire walk upstairs, like holding onto me is the only thing keeping her from completely losing it, which is probably true.
The second I shut the door, I guide her straight to her bathroom. “Shower,” I tell her gently. “It’ll help.”
She just nods, a ghost of herself, and I move on autopilot—turning the water on, checking the temperature, pulling a clean towel from the shelf. I help her peel off her jacket and ease her sweater over her head when her arms barely move.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask when she’s standing there in her camisole and jeans, staring blankly at the tile.
She swallows. Her voice is small. “Please.”
So I stay. I help her step out of her jeans and into the shower, then I sit on the closed toilet lid and stare blankly at the wall ahead.
We can’t both lose our minds on the same night, so I start counting numbers to try and change my train of thought.
Because I can’t stop thinking about him.
About Carter.
