Page 142 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Oh. Hey,” I choke out.

“You all right?”

With a jerky nod, I wipe beneath my eyes. “Yeah. I, uh…” I motion to his piece across the room. “Wow.”

His laugh is almost shy as he squeezes the back of his neck before pressing his hand to my lower back and guiding me closer to it. “Come on. Let me show you.”

The tang of blood explodes across my taste buds as I bite the inside of my cheek but force my numb legs to follow Milo’s prodding when all I want to do is collapse. It seems the pressure from my lies is finally getting the best of me.

Lovely.

Sensing how close I am to breaking, Milo hesitates. “What’s wrong?”

“Restroom,” I blurt out, my eyes welling with tears. “Is there a restroom?”

“Yeah, it’s…” he points toward a hall on our right, and I make a dash for it like my life depends on it.

The heavy bathroom door slams against the wall as I force it open and rush to the nearest toilet. Collapsing onto my knees, I puke my guts out until there’s nothing left. No self-preservation. No pride. No self-worth.

Nothing except love for the man I have to break if I have any hope of keeping him, and the knowledge my betrayal will cut Milo so deep there’s no coming back from it. There can’t be.

My eyelids are heavy, but I force them open and get to my feet, my movements sluggish and heavy as I head to the sink. The water is cold, almost enough to snap me out of my daze, though it does nothing to ease my anxiety. I splash it on my face without giving a shit about my makeup or my hair or anything else.

Only Milo.

And Penny.

And the damn painting. It’s the most beautiful, touching, heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Madelyn?” my mother calls through the closed door. She pushes it open a few inches.

Ripping a paper towel from the dispenser, I blot my wet cheeks with it and toss it in the trash.

“Hey,” I whisper, my voice sounding like I’ve gargled broken glass.

The door opens a few more inches, and my mom peeks inside. “Madelyn?” When her gaze connects with mine, she frowns and steps closer to me. “Oh, honey. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Can you, uh, can you watch Penny for me? I need to have a little chat with Milo.”

“Of course, sweetheart. But…” She pulls me into a hug, running her hand up and down my back. “Are you okay?”

Again, I shake my head, the weight of my guilt practically smothering me. “No, Mom. No, I’m not.”

“What can I do to help?”

I sniff, wrapping my arms around her and returning the hug I never thought I’d feel in my entire life. It’s accepting. And unconditional. One promising everything’s going to be all right, even when I know it isn’t the case.

It’s a hug all kids deserve, and it’s one I’ve craved since I was a little girl and never felt like I’d be good enough for her. It’s a hug proving someone is in my corner. No matter what. And for some crazy reason, I believe it this time. Believe my mom loves me, she isn’t going anywhere, and she’s finally learned to accept me.

Me.

The girl who makes mistakes.

The girl who’s made so many mistakes, she’s terrified of facing them and accepting the fallout.

The girl who will probably keep making them because she’s very human.

But my mom accepts me anyway.

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