Page 33 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Why would he care now?” I repeat. “It’s been…forever, hasn’t it? A month? Maybe two? Why would he wait to reach out?”

Dove’s silence rings louder than a damn fire alarm, making the hair on my arms stand on end as I realize the truth. “You’re hiding something.”

Another beat of silence greets me.

Her soft voice eventually crackles through the speaker again. “Do you know who Marty’s dad is?”

“Donny Hayes,” I answer. “The famous rockstar. Everyone knows.”

“Yeah, well, apparently, he cut Marty off.”

“What? Why?”

Silence.

“What are you hiding from me, Dove?” I demand. “And how the hell do you know he cut Marty off?”

“Look, it’s not my secret to tell. Let’s just say I heard it through the grapevine. Marty did something to upset his dad, who told Marty if he didn’t clean up his act, he’d freeze Marty’s bank account. Marty threw a fit, and low and behold, he’s dealing with the consequences.”

“S-so you’re saying he’s desperate,” I conclude, my blood running cold. “And desperate people are volatile. He could do anything.”

“Mads––”

“Does he know where I am?” I ask.

“You hadn’t moved in with Milo when Marty had Gibson’s phone, so I don’t know how it’s possible.”

“You’re sure?”

“I think so? But honestly, Maddie, I’m as lost as you are. Let me see if I can do a little digging around to see if I can find anything else out. But as you probably know, Gibson isn’t exactly a fan of Marty’s because of what he did to Fender. And since Fender’s been in rehab, he hasn’t exactly been in contact with Marty either, ya know? Marty was probably only trying to spook you.”

“Well, it worked,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m freaking out, Dove.”

“I don’t blame you. Why don’t you change your phone number again or something to make sure he can’t reach you? We’ll play it by ear. Okay?”

“O-okay,” I stutter, still reeling.

“Go take a shower,” Dove orders. “Clear your head. Remember to breathe andnotto freak out. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re right,” I murmur, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. “You’re totally right. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes, it will.” A muffled voice says something to Dove, though I can’t make out what. She yells, “Be right there! I gotta go, Mads. I love you. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Love you too.”

My arm drops down to my side as I stare at the half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in front of me. I’m not hungry anymore. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach anything for the rest of the day. I feel like the room is spinning. Like my entire world is seconds from detonating, and it’s Marty’s thumb on the trigger.

My numb legs carry me to the second floor, and I pause at my bedroom door and listen for Peanut. She’s quiet, but I push open the door and bring her into the bathroom with me, anyway.

Dove’s right.

I need to shower.

I need to wash away my fear. My anxiety. And the swirling sense of dread haunting me since the moment my phone vibrated downstairs.

Once Penny’s tucked in her bouncer, still sound asleep, I strip naked. Turning the water to its highest heat, I let the scalding liquid do its job, washing away every moment I ever spent with Marty. When I let him touch me. When I let him control me. When I let him think he had any kind of power over me.

But the truth is simple.

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