Page 26 of Bend & Break
Of course,shedoesn’t see it as helping. Blake doesn’t let anyone help. She is hyper-independent to the point of self-destruction. It’s not just stubbornness, it’s armor. And if I’m ever going to get through to her, I have to find a way to break that defense down without making her feel cornered.
She whips her head around, glare sharp enough to cut, shoulders squared like she’s ready to throw down in the passenger seat. “You’rekidnappingme.”
“Fine.” The word leaves me on a sigh, more worn out than angry. “Then don’t call it helping. Call it me not wanting to wake up tomorrow and find out you’re dead.” I flick my eyes toward her, quick, before fixing them back on the road.
That shuts her up, though only for about three seconds. She shifts in her seat, and I can feel her winding up again, ready to strike back.
Then, she surprises me when she says, "I’m not gonna be your problem to manage, Mads."
"You’re not. You’re Blake fucking Aster," I say, a bit affronted. "You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can still give me shit while actively suffocating. You’re not a problem to manage. You’re the reason I have absolutely lost my mind."
And it’s true. Every word of it.
I’ve been circling her for years, wanting her in ways I’ve never admitted to anyone, not even myself.
I’d light myself on fire for this girl. If she asked, I’d do worse.
I glance at her just long enough to catch the flicker of conflict in her expression. She looks tired. Pale. Her voice softens, barely audible over the hum of the road. "You shouldn’t be doing this."
"I should’ve done something a lot sooner."
Blake, never one to back down, replies in a tone that nearly cracks my chest open. “Mads, I think there’s something I need to tell you, and I need you to know that once I do, nothing that comes after will be easy.”
“I don’t need easy. I need you.” The words are out before I can stop them, raw and reckless. I clear my throat, softer this time. “I need you to be safe.”
She’s staring at me, her expression indiscernible. She seems to be holding back a hundred different answers, but finally lands on, “I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’remykind of trouble,” I say, my mouth twitching even though my chest feels tight. “Every time you look at me, it feels like another nail in my coffin. And if I’m being honest, I’d let you bury me smiling.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and the silence presses in so heavy it drowns out the hum of the engine. I want to look at her, to see what she’s thinking, but I keep my eyes on the road instead. If she’s not ready to say anything back, I’d rather not see it written across her face.
I make the turn off campus and don’t say another word until we’re pulling up to Colin’s place. His parties are always the same. Wild as fuck, packed wall-to-wall, music rattling the windows. The kind of chaos you don’t come down from until the sun’s up.
Blake is in no shape to deal with it, mentally, physically, or otherwise. Not after what she’s just been through. If she thinks I’m letting her out of my sight again tonight, she’s delusional.
The second we step inside, it’s pure chaos.
The living room’s packed shoulder to shoulder with my sweaty teammates, a pyramid of empty beer cans is collapsing on the coffee table, and someone has decided the kitchen counter is now a dance stage.
Something blurs past my ear and smacks into the wall with a dull thud. A football. No one bothers to apologize. Above us,a shoe spins lazily on the ceiling fan, duct-taped to one of the blades. Probably stolen by one player from another as a small Rites prank. On the floor, someone’s dog waddles by in a too-tight team jersey, crunching down on a mouthful of Doritos someone must’ve dropped.
"Jesus Christ," Blake mutters beside me, pulling her hoodie tighter around her. "Is this what testosterone smells like?"
"Don’t breathe too deep," I say under my breath, hand hovering at her lower back as I guide her through the doorway.
"AYYYE, KELLER!" Matteo’s voice booms from the living room. He’s standing on a plastic chair with a beer can in each hand, looking one small wiggle away from disaster. "Back from exile, huh?"
"Something like that," I grumble.
Zayne lurches out of the kitchen with a Solo cup, eyes snapping straight to Blake like a moth to a flame. "And you brought a guest. Bold move during hazing season."
"She’s not yours to haze," I snap, steering her past him.
Blake, never one to waste an opening, gives him a flat little smile. "We just came from a gas leak. I nearly died. He’s emotionally attached now."
Zayne clutches his chest. "Romance. I’m moved."
Before I can bark at him again, Colin appears from the hallway, dark expression in place, Mayson right behind him with a plate of nachos. She does not look happy about it.
