Page 96 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I try to walk past him again, but he steps in front of me, his massive frame taking up every inch of the doorframe.

“We talked about this, Mads. No more lies.”

“I’m not––”

“If you’re not ready to tell me whatever’s going on inside your pretty little head, it’s okay.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and brushes his thumb along my cheekbone. Carefully. Patiently. Like I’m precious. Breakable. “But don’t lie. We clear?”

I close my eyes and lean into his touch, savoring the warmth spreading from his hand into my cheek. A few moments later, I take a deep breath and pull away from him. “I’ll be out in five.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue as I move past him and close the bathroom door behind me.

Shoving my hair away from my face, I avoid the mirror and stare up at the ceiling, my breath ragged and unsteady.

Breathe, Madelyn. Breathe.

25

Maddie

“What are you thinking about?” Milo asks as I swirl my forefinger along the dark ink etched into his bicep. Our backs are against the headboard, and we’re sitting side by side. He still hasn’t broached the subject as to why I had a mini-meltdown earlier, and I’m okay with it. Surprised by his patience, but okay with it, nonetheless.

It’s quiet. Peaceful. It shouldn’t be. I should still be wracked with guilt. And I am, but when I’m with Milo, when I’m close to him, I can almost pretend everything’s all right. Pretend I’m still worthy of his love no matter how far from the truth it is.

With Penny pressed against my chest nursing, I drag my finger along the new tattoo I’d been admiring. “Just curious when you got this one.”

He looks down at the compass I’m referring to. “A couple of months after we broke up.”

“It’s different from the other, isn’t it?” I motion to his chest, where a similar compass sits.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “It reminds me everyone has their own path.”

“And this one?” I brush the fresh tattoo with my thumb, his skin hot and his pulse steady beneath my touch. “What’s its significance?”

“Didn’t I warn you about asking such a personal question?”

“Maybe.” I smirk but refuse to back down. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Hmm,” he hums.

“Come on,” I beg. “I wanna know.”

With a sigh, he gives in. “It’s to remind me to never lose my way.”

There’s a sadness in his voice—a conviction.

My chest tightens. “Did I? Make you lose your way?”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, looks down at Penny in my arms, and rubs his palm against the crown of her head, lost in his thoughts.

“Pretty sure you made me find it,” he murmurs a few seconds later. “You gonna tell me what spooked you at the restaurant?”

“The restaurant?”

“I’m not dumb. I know it has to be more than your mom holding Penny.”

Well, shit.

“What happened to,if you’re not ready to tell me, I can wait?” I ask.

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