Page 6 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Demandingwe move in with him is probably the more accurate depiction for what went down,” I mutter, blinking away my tears. I haven’t cried since we broke up. Not really. I’ve been too numb to acknowledge I’m a single mom and my sister’s in an up-and-coming band who will be touring across the country with her boyfriend. I’m going to be all alone. With a baby. Whom I have no idea how to raise.

“A-are you going to do it?” Dove asks, her voice quiet.

I sniff. “He didn’t leave me much of a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Mads.”

Mads.

The name still burns, making me feel like I’m trapped between two personas. One from when I lived with my parents where I was Mads. Maddie. Or Madelyn. The rebellious teenager who couldn’t squeeze an ounce of pride from her mom or dad if her life depended on it.

And the second persona where I became “M.” Or Em. The girl who didn’t give a shit anymore. About anything or anyone. It’s the name I used when I got caught up in drugs, alcohol, and threesomes. The one I used when Milo, Gibson, and I were all sleeping together. The one I used when I fell in love for the first time before realizing the party life wasn’t for me and what I actually wanted was to settle down and be in love. I wanted to have someone accept me forme, even though I wasn’t really sure who I was anymore.

Until I met Milo and spent some time with him. Milo saw me. The real me. Or at least, I thought he did. Until I told him I couldn’t do threesomes anymore. I wantedhishands on me.Hiseyes on me.Hissmile.Hisdimples. I didn’t want to be shared. Not anymore. Not when he owned me completely.

But it was too late. I screwed it up, like how I screw everything up. And now, what I want doesn’t matter anymore. I have someone who needs me. And even though I have no idea what I’m doing, I refuse to let my little Peanut down.

I can’t.

“I think you should do it,” Dove decides, reading my silence for indecision. “I think you should move in with him.”

“He hates me.”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, Mads.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a low, unsteady breath.

She has no idea.

“Let him be there for you,” she offers.

“He doesn’twantto be there for me.”

“So, let him be there for Peanut,” she argues. “You’re going to need help with feedings and diaper changes. Plus, it’ll help financially too. You haven’t been able to work your entire pregnancy, and with the medical bills––”

“I know, Dove. I’ve already spoken with Medicaid. Things will be tight, but I’m working on it.”

“Good. And you know I’m here for you, right?”

“I know. It’s…” I bite my lip and look down at Peanut. Her little lips are pursed as she sucks on an invisible binkie, oblivious to the chaos surrounding her. But I’m grateful for it. Her oblivion. She doesn’t need to know her mother’s a mess. Only how much I love her. More than anything else in the world.

“It’s a lot,” I finish, brushing my fingers against her strawberry blonde hair. It’s so soft. Like a baby chick’s feathers.

“I know,” Dove murmurs. “But you’ll get through this. You have people who love and care about you. Don’t you dare forget it, okay?”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“So, have you talked to Josh yet? About the tour?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.

“Yeah. Gibson got off the phone with him a few minutes ago.”

“And?”

“And it looks like I’m going to Europe for a few months.”

My smile is genuine as I soak in her success. “How amazing, Dove! I’m proud of you.”

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