Page 51 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Sealing his fate to Penny––and me––forever.

Shit.

14

Maddie

“You’re mad at me,” I note as he pulls back onto the freeway. He’d waited inside while I nursed Penny in the back of the car before I texted to tell him he could come back outside.

But he still hasn’t said a word.

And I feel terrible because of it.

“I’m sorry,” I add a few seconds later. “For leaving your name off the birth certificate.”

His gaze darts over to me and back to the road.

“And for not telling you about the AOP.”

Silence.

“And I’m sorry for not telling you about her in the first place.”

More silence.

“And I’m sorry for the things I said when we…” I clear my throat. “When we broke up too.”

More. Freaking. Silence.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I told you I wanted to make some changes.”

“Changes.” He lets out a breath of amusement, but there’s a venomous undertone causing the hair along my arms and neck to stand on end. “Is that what we’re calling it? You wanting to break up with me and end a good thing?Changes?”

“I wasn’t––”

“It doesn’t matter,” he returns, his voice quiet and lacking any warmth or understanding. Only a numb callousness I’m all too familiar with. It’s what wound up breaking my heart in the first place.

He didn’t get it all those nights ago.

Hestilldoesn’t get it.

I didn’t want to break up with him. I wanted to break up withGibson. I wanted to haveonlyhim. But without giving me a chance to explain what I wanted, he lashed out, hitting below the belt, crippling me. It still cripples me.

“Itdoesmatter,” I argue, defeated. Exhausted. And so run down, I don’t even know what to do with myself.

“It’s the reason I’m apologizing,” I explain, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m tired of tiptoeing around our mistakes, and trust me, I know I’ve made plenty. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Penny. I’m sorry I didn’t explain my feelings so they made sense the night we…”

The emotions from when we broke up hit like a sledgehammer, clogging my throat. The hurt. The frustration. The desperation to fix everything while knowing it had already been obliterated.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, looking out the passenger window, the cars blurring into a mass of reds, blacks, and whites. It’s weird. Every single one of those cars holds a person with their own life. Their own problems. Maybe they feel like they’re drowning too. Or maybe we each have to take our turn, watching our worlds unravel, then sewing them back together again. I hope one day, mine won’t feel like it’s falling apart anymore.

“I shouldn’t have called you a mess,” he returns, his tone softening. “Or a whore.”

The word stings more than he can ever imagine, but I shake it off. After all, he was right about it all along.

Still, his apology means something. It means a lot, actually. More than he’ll ever know.

I turn back to him and release a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want nothing to do with Penny. I know I should’ve told you about her instead of hiding everything from you.”

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