Page 145 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

The hurt.

The way he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger.

I can feel the shift between two potential futures. I can feel the seams unraveling. I can feel the breaking point, the precipice of oblivion. And I know I’m seconds from everything falling apart. I canfeelit. See it. Hear it. Hell, I can taste it. The slight tang of blood followed by a bitterness so deep, I know there’s no way I’ll ever come back from it.

“Mads.” It isn’t a question. It’s a damn guillotine. Sharp and direct. “Were you supposed to meet Marty tonight?”

“I wasn’t going to go––”

Marty scoffs. “Tell me, man. Do you honestly think it’s a good idea to trust the girl who’s fucking me behind your back?”

Feeling like he’s kicked me in the gut, the air whooshes from my lungs as Milo’s face twists in pain, proving Marty’s verbal assault landed exactly where he wanted it.

“Fuck-ing?” Milo demands, emphasizing the-ing.

I shake my head and reach for him, but he yanks his arm away from me.

“Milo––”

“Is it true?”

“Of course not!” I squeeze my hands into fists, desperate to make him understand. To make him see the truth and where I’m coming from, no matter how muddy the water is. “It’s in the past––”

“If it was in the past, why is Martyhere?” Milo grits out.

“It’s not what you think!”

His nostrils flare as he folds his arms. “Then, what is it, Madelyn?”

“What’s going on?” a stranger asks, stepping around the corner from the main area and thoroughly interrupting us. It takes me a second to place him, but when I do, I gasp.

Donny Hayes.

“Why don’t you check out the art for another second?” Marty suggests, gently ushering his dad away from his current front-row seat of my life falling apart. “I’ll introduce you to your granddaughter in a minute.”

“Granddaughter?”

“I’ll explain everything in a few,” Marty offers, pushing him with a bit more force. “I just need a sec.”

“She’s not yours!” I interrupt, praying it’s true.

Donny’s jaw ticks, and he stops moving, his narrowed gaze shifting from Marty to me. “What’s going on?”

Straightening my spine, I dig deep for the courage to take a stand and call Marty’s bluff.

I look at Donny and finally speak the truth. “Your son has been blackmailing me to convince you that you have a granddaughter so you’ll feel guilty and support her financially.”

“Careful, Em,” Marty warns me, his tone lethal.

I shake my head. “No. I’m done playing your game. I’m done letting you use me or my daughter.”

“I need to get out of here,” Milo mutters.

“Wait,” I beg him. “Please.”

He shakes his head and takes a step to pass me, but I block him.

“Marty was blackmailing you, er, me. It’s…it’s complicated,” I ramble, reaching for him again as he takes another step away from me. Like I’m a damn virus. A pariah. A traitor.

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