Page 98 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

I want to laugh at how many I could bring to the surface, but I swallow them back and give him an example, though he has no idea it’s one of many.

“Me not telling you about Penny,” I offer.

“You know I love Penny.”

“I know, but––”

“And you know how I feel about you.”

“I know,” I repeat. “But…I dunno. What if there were more?”

His brows pinch. “More lies?”

“More…of anything. What if you find something you don’t love about me? What if something from my past creeps up and ruins this? You know how far I am from perfect.”

“Are they in the past?” he asks.

“Technically? I think so.”

“You think?”

“I want them to be.” I look back at Penny, her eyes still closed as she nurses without a care in the world. “But I’m human, and I have a past, and––”

“We’re both human, Madelyn. You’re not the only one who's made mistakes. If you want them to be in the past, they’re in the past.”

Frustrated, I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. “How can you shrug them off so easily? All of my mistakes.”

“Because I care about you. You, Madelyn Walker. Flaws and all.”

My eyes burn, and I blink the sting away. “No matter what?”

Brushing his lips against my forehead, he murmurs, “Yeah, babe. No matter what.”

My smile is soft as I touch his cheek with my hand, the weight of guilt lifting, even if only for a few minutes. “Thank you.”

“Is there something you want to add, babe?”

With a light laugh, I sit Peanut up and pat her back in an attempt to disperse the air bubbles caught in her tiny tummy. “I care about you too, Milo.”I really do.“More than anything.”

26

Maddie

He’s late.

I mean, it’s not entirely out of the norm. Clients show up without appointments sometimes and still expect Milo to fit them in. Ever since we hooked up and worked everything out, I’ve acted like a pathetic little puppy who waits by the front door until its owner comes home. And one thing is for sure. Milo owns me.

He owns me.Bad.

And tonight isn’t any different. I want him home. I want him here. So I can ease the guilt as it’s built up throughout the day. So I can give him my body and have a taste of forever, even as it feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. I want to feel peace. And the only time I feel it is when I’m in his arms.

My heart leaps in my chest as headlights light up the family room through the blinds, and I rush to the front door to greet him.

Instead of it opening a minute later, a loud knock vibrates through the hard surface.

Brows furrowed, I flick on the porch light and peek through the peephole.

“Hello, Em,” a voice calls out.

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