Madie Lenertz never ceased to surprise.
After telling her about my plan to work with the cops, Madie stared at me for a long moment. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, and I wasn't sure if she found it. But she drew her lip into her mouth, worrying it while her eyes scanned my face.
Finally, she whispered that she didn't like it. She didn't like thinking about everything that could go wrong. She'd seen a gun pointed at me before, and she didn't want to imagine it happening again. Madie begged for me to find a different way to do it, even drawing in a deep breath and saying that she'd wait longer for me to come back if it meant dropping this idea.
But she didn't argue.
I'd told her that I didn't want to argue about it; I just didn't think that she'd listen.
I was expecting a storm, and all I got was a sad look—like a grey day with clouds that were about to rain on you.
It was the same the next morning when I brought her back to her dorm room.
Madie wore my sweats and tennies I'd packed so that she wouldn't have to put on her gala outfit again. Besides needing to pull the laces really tight so the shoes wouldn't fall off, the fit looked like it was made for her. I was left wearing my tux, but that was fine.
We walked into the building, hand in hand. Memories flooded back as we strode through the hallways, and I pushed them away. Some were good; some were bad. But I just didn't have the mental capacity at the moment.
Dropping her off at her room and saying goodbye hurt just as much as it did the first time. But at least there was less resistance.
Scooping Madie into my arms, I walked us inside and set her on the edge of that tiny-ass dorm bed. Then I stood between her legs, cupped her face, and kissed her as deeply as I could. There wasn't much left to say; it was quiet in the room except for our breathing and Madie's soft whimper as I brushed away a stray tear with my lips.
We only broke apart because the door opened, and I saw Nessa's head pop into—and then quickly out of—the room.
It was still my cue to leave.
"I love you," I murmured against her lips.
There was a soft sigh before she said, "I love you, too."
I gave her one last kiss. "Thank you for this weekend, for the most amazing birthday present, Madie."
She blinked up at me, teary-eyed and a ghost of a smile on her lips. She was so fucking gorgeous, though. You'd think I would have gotten my fill of her the last two days, but it was all only a tease. I'd never get enough of this girl.
"You're such a gift," I said, moving a strand of hair out of her face. I began to back away after that, and Madie bit her lip and watched me go.
"Be careful," she murmured, pleading with her eyes. "I mean it, Bren."
I gave her a nod, promising that I'd be back soon. It was time to head to Fresno, settle shit with my dad, and return to Madie.
But first, I had a few stops to make.
I passed Nessa on my way out the door, and I had to swallow hard so that when I spoke, my voice wouldn't shake. It fucking sucked walking away from Madie when she looked at me like that.
"Hey," I said quietly after the door closed behind me. We were alone in the hallway, and I leaned against the bare wall. "So where can I find this Brodie asshole?"
Nessa's eyes widened in alarm before she shook her head. "No, Bren. Just leave it. It's settled."
"I would beg to differ," I replied tightly. When she didn't say anything, I added, "I don't know what to do, Nessa. I just want her safe, okay? And it seems like no matter what I do, she's left vulnerable somehow. I know I should have been here, but—"
"It probably still would have happened," Nessa cut in with a soft voice.
"What?"
"It probably still would have happened, Bren. Even if you were here, it isn't like you can be around to protect her twenty-four-seven." Nessa shrugged, feigning a nonchalance that I didn't see in her eyes. "But we got her pepper spray and one of those little shocker things to put on her keys."
That should have made me feel better, but it didn't.
"That shouldn't be fucking necessary."
"It shouldn't be," Nessa agreed with a solemn nod. "But we're girls. So it is."
Fuck that. She was right, of course. But fuck that.
Sighing, Nessa revealed, "Grayson was just going to a football thing down at the athletic center. Maybe Brodie is there, too. Don't do something stupid, though, Bren."
I raised my brow at the mention of this Grayson guy—the guy who I thought Nessa was totally not into.
Nessa saw my reaction and quickly added, "But if Madie asks, I didn't tell you any of that. Any of it, Bren."
"Uh-huh. Alright, Ness."
She glared at me. And then her gaze softened when she asked, "Will you be back soon, though?"
I nodded. She nodded. And then we parted ways after a brief hug.
Luckily enough, the other bit of business that I needed to take care of was on my way to the campus athletic complex.
McLaren Hall.
As I approached it, I stared down the weathered outer walls of the building. I could almost feel the rough-textured brick beneath my fingers—the smell of rain, the blossoming of desperation, the ache of wanting her.
This was where I'd stood with Madie in the rain that night. This was where I'd pressed her against the wall, cupped her face for the first time, and told her that I would kiss her every goddamn day if I could.
Fuck, I still wanted that. Why couldn't we just have that?
I pushed through the double doors, knowing that this was a long shot. But teachers always fucking complained about how much work they had to do over the weekend, so it was worth it to check. The school website told me that Professor Hale Evans had his office on the first floor of McLaren Hall, and so here I was.
When I found it, the door to his office was closed. But I gave it a knock just in case. And it wasn't until after I did that that I heard the soft moans and low grunts.
Well, shit.
I was tempted to walk away; there was really no need for me to sit in an empty classroom, listening to this guy get it on in his office. But if this professor was spending his Sunday morning fucking students on campus...well, that changed my outlook on this whole situation. If that was the case, I couldn't help but doubt his intentions toward Madie.
It grew quiet, and I second-guessed my decision not to flee. I was about to turn on my heel when the door swung open, and I was faced with a brunette woman throwing an oversized bag over her shoulder.
She jumped a little at seeing me, and it made me wonder if she'd even heard the knock or if she'd been leaving anyway.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her cheeks pinkening.
A man—Hale—appeared behind her. I didn't miss the way his fingers hooked into the belt loops on her jeans. "What—oh, you're the guy from the gala," he said. With a slight frown, he cleared his throat and added, "Can I help you?"
"I really have to get going, babe," the woman quietly cut in, glancing over her shoulder at the professor. "I'll see you at home later."
Oh.
They exchanged a glance that felt entirely private before Hale kissed her forehead, and she slipped past me with a smile. He watched her go longingly before sighing. "My wife," he said by way of explanation. "I've been so busy grading midterms this week that I've barely seen her."
Well, that settled that. Dude was head over heels, too, judging by the look on his face as he watched her leave. And I couldn't blame him for wanting to get some when he could.
Actually, in a weird sort of way, I was jealous. I wanted to have that someday—a job with my own office and my own desk where Madie would randomly show up to surprise me. I liked that idea. And she liked getting bent over things. Like desks. It was a win-win.
"So, you're..." the professor ventured when I didn't say anything.
I cleared my throat. "Bren," I said. "Madie Lenertz is my girlfriend."
"Ah, yes," he said, nodding. "I saw the two of you together on Friday." He motioned for me to come into the office, and I stepped past him. Deciding to stay clear of the furniture, considering what had possibly just happened in here, I walked over and leaned against the windowsill. Hale propped himself against the edge of his desk. He was dressed casually; honestly, it was an outfit that I'd probably wear.
The professor cocked his head to the side, clearly waiting for me to say something.
"I'm sorry to take your time. I live in Fresno, and I'm just here for the weekend. I...I guess I just dropped by to say thank you. For helping Madie," I admitted.
He seemed surprised by that.
Maybe it because I had drilled holes in the back of his skull with my eyes two nights before.
Yeah, probably that.
"No need to thank me," he said. "I just did what any decent guy would."
"Doesn't seem like there are many of those lately," I muttered before sliding a slip of paper with my number onto his desk. "Anyway, if you notice anything fishy going on with that Brodie guy again, give me a call."
He stared at the piece of paper for a second, and I knew what he was probably thinking. He was probably wondering why Madie wouldn't just call me if something was going on.
I wanted to believe she would. But it was hard to say. It was almost like it was in her nature to hide this kind of shit.
I didn't really give Hale a chance to respond before saying thanks one more time and leaving him to work on his Midterm grading. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a problem with Brodie at all—especially after the words I was about to share with him.
Striding back out of McLaren Hall, I followed the campus path that I knew would take me to the athletic complex. It was a massive building on the edge of Oakland State, and I figured that finding Brodie in it might be like searching a needle in a haystack.
I was wrong. Because guys like Brodie Thompson wanted to be found. They wanted the attention. They wanted every single fucking person to notice them when they walked in the door.
So, of course, the second I walked in the door of the Ripley Athletic Center, the first thing I saw was that Grayson guy from the gala hanging with a bunch of football players in the lobby. And standing in the middle of them all, obnoxiously tossing a ball up in the air, was a beefed-up dude with Thompson written on the back of his sweatshirt.
Grayson seemed to notice me first, his eyes widening in recognition. We'd only sat at the same table for a few minutes, but it must have been enough for him to make the connection. He got it, knew what was happening.
Brodie, on the other hand, had no idea I was coming. His back was turned to me, which was fine. It gave me time to unbutton my tux jacket, letting it fall open before I threw one hand in my pocket, making sure that my Glock 43 would be easily spotted.
Walking up behind Brodie, I waited until he tossed the football up in the air again. And then I watched as it started to come back down before reaching up to snatch it midair with my free hand.
Brodie spun around. "What the—"
"Hey," I said, tossing the football over my shoulder. "Brodie, is it?"
🤍
#toomanywomen
xoxo amelie