Page 143 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Now, I need to find out if Milo will do the same.

I let my mom go with a deep, shaky breath, giving her a watery smile, which is pathetic at best. “Can you keep an eye on Penny for me? I may have to dart out of here in a few, but I shouldn’t be long. I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“Anything you need, Madelyn. I’m here for you.”

I dab at the corner of my eye and wipe the fresh tear against my dress, barely keeping myself together. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

With as much energy as I can muster, I step into the hallway, my head held high, like a woman on a mission, even though I’m absolutely terrified inside.

I feel like razors are in my stomach, cutting my insides into ribbons of regret. A lump in my throat refuses to go away. It doesn’t matter how many times I swallow or chug water from the drinking fountain right now. It’s stuck. Lodged in my throat. Threatening to choke me.

I deserve it all, but I’m afraid it’ll make the next few minutes of my life even harder, and I didn’t think it was possible things could get any worse.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and step into the open exhibit area, searching for a certain someone I’m desperate to hold.

Milo’s back is to me as he stands in front of his artwork, chatting with someone studying his piece with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, nodding his head up and down.

Hanging back a few feet, I wait for them to wrap up their conversation with my arms folded and the waterworks on stand by, though I have no idea how much longer I’ll be able to hold it off. Penny is with my mom, my dad, Jake, and Bree in the corner of the room, leaving me more alone and awkward than ever.

I want to leave. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to be a coward for one more minute.

One more hour.

One more day.

But I can’t. Iwon’t.

Because of the damn breathtaking piece of art behind Milo, I know I have to do this. I know I can’t keep this lie between us anymore because he can feel it. He might not be able to put his finger on why I’m still out of reach when all he’s been is accepting and perfect, but he can still feel the distance. And it’s on me to rectify this.

No matter how terrifying it will be.

We can get through it, though.

Can’t we?

Milo steps back to give the man more space, snapping me back to the present as he scans the room, looking for me.

With his back still to me, I step closer and reach out to him, touching his shoulder. “Hey.”

He turns, and his brows furrow. “Mads? What the hell happened?” Pulling me into his chest, he runs his hand up and down my back, refusing to let me go while managing to fan the flames of guilt burning me from the inside out. “Are you all right?”

“Can we talk?” I whisper against his chest.

“Right now?”

I nod.

Pulling me away from him, his concerned gaze bounces around my already swollen eyes before he grits out, “Come on.”

He guides me to a small hallway in search of a bit of privacy, even though it’s almost impossible to find. Tossing a quick glance toward the main exhibit area, he confirms we’re alone. It’s just me and him.

His scent. His heat. His concern.

And my guilt. My lie. My breaking heart.

“What’s going on?” he demands, towering over me until my back presses into the wall with a quiet thump.

“I-I need to tell you something.”

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