"Who the hell are you?"
It took everything in me not to punch this guy's face.
He looked enough like Quinton to make my skin crawl—blonde hair, blue eyes, and arms that looked like they could crush me. Bro probably skipped leg day to overwork his biceps. And if the similarities to Madie's ex weren't enough to make me want to break Brodie's nose, the expression on his face undoubtedly did the trick.
But beating the shit out of Quinton only landed me in more trouble. It hadn't helped Madie a fucking bit. If I had been able to control my temper when Quinton burst into the emergency room that day, his ass probably would have landed in jail a lot sooner.
So even though I wanted to fuck up Brodie Thompson, I kept my balled fist in my pocket.
It took everything—absolutely everything—in me.
"Bren," I said, managing to my voice even. "Bren Hadaway."
One brow raised on Brodie's oversized forehead—as if my name meant something to him. But his gaze said otherwise; it was cool when he said, "That doesn't answer my fucking question."
I took a measured step toward him. He didn't budge, didn't flinch or move a muscle. "I'm the guy whose girlfriend you've been harassing," I said.
At my words, Brodie's eyes flickered with...something. I wasn't sure what it was, but it told me that he knew exactly who I was talking about. He knew I meant Madie.
And that pissed me the fuck off.
But not nearly as much as when Brodie's face changed. With an exasperated and over-exaggerated roll of his eyes, he turned away from me.
I snapped. Despite all of my level-headed intentions to not put my hands on this asshole, I grabbed the hood of Brodie's sweatshirt as he spun around. And then I yanked him back with a hard tug.
Because the conversation wasn't fucking over.
"What the—"Brodie whipped toward me again with anger blazing in his eyes. His fist pulled back, and it was leveled at my face. I dared him with my gaze to hit me.
"Don't, man." It was Grayson, suddenly at Brodie's side, holding his arm so he wouldn't unleash on me. But Brodie jerked him away.
"Fuck off, Gray," he bit out, dropping his fist and straightening his sweatshirt out. The blue and gold colors made my stomach tighten. A wave of nausea threatened to knock me down. My throat clenched. But I swallowed, pushing it all away.
Meanwhile, Grayson fell back, shaking his head. I didn't miss the look in his eye, though—a mix of irritation and worry.
"We weren't done talking," I cut in coolly, giving my attention to Brodie again. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's dumb as shit to turn your back on a guy with a gun?"
Brodie's retort was on the tip of his tongue, but I interrupted. "Ya know, I saw your friend Quinton do that to Madie once. He pulled on her hoodie and choked her."
Brodie's mouth snapped shut, but his hard stare didn't waver. Not that I really expected it to. So I kept going.
"But I heard that you told her she was making shit up about what he did to her."
His attention shifted away. "Yeah, well—"
"I don't fucking like that."
Icy blue eyes flew back to mine. "I don't give a shit what you like."
His voice echoed in the entryway of the athletic complex. Huge glass windows stretched two stories upward, and our words were bouncing off of them. The football team was quiet, watching on without any intention of intervening.
"You should," I said, soft enough that only the two of us would be able to hear. This wasn't between anyone but Brodie Thompson and me.
His brows drew together. "Why?"
I tilted my head to the side. "You know why Quinton is in jail?" I asked lowly.
"Because your bitch of a girlfriend—"
"I swear if you—" I bit my tongue. It was hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled my senses. Blood. Spilling, seeping blood. "No," I spat out instead of what I'd been about to say. "He's in jail because he shot me."
That got a reaction out of Brodie. He drew back a little, his eyes furrowing into a deeper v.
"So I'm a little more prepared now," I explained with a cold smirk. I slipped my hand back into my pocket to emphasize the point, drawing my tux jacket back with it.
It had the effect that I was going for; Brodie's eyes flicked down to my visible gun before rising back to meet my unwavering gaze. Without hesitation, I stepped toward him, leaning in.
"Do you know what it's like to think you're going to die?" I asked quietly, unable to keep the menace out of my voice. I was barely holding it together. I wasn't bleeding, dying by gunshot. But hell, I was dying to give this guy what he deserved. I was dying to make every asshole like him pay, including my dad. Quinton. Fucking all of them.
"Do you?" I asked again when he didn't answer. Brodie's steely stare wandered over my face, but he seemed to be out of words.
So I continued.
"Do you know what it's like to watch someone die? To see life literally fade? It happens in the eyes," I said, tapping the corner of my eye with one finger. "They're bright for a moment, the neurons in the brain still firing off. You don't need a fucking EKG to see the electrical impulses in the heart as it fights to live. It's all in the eyes. And then...they turn flat. An unmoving line."
Brodie was squinting at me now, taking me in with odd fascination. "You have?" he asked. "Watched someone die?"
"Yes."
His expression sprung into disbelief as he peered down at my gun once more. "You expect me to believe that you—"
"My dad killed my mom in front of me. So no," I cut him off harshly. I hadn't killed anyone. Not yet, anyway. "And I'd like to keep it that way. So don't touch Madie. Don't go near Madie. Don't even think about Madie. Because I really never want to see your face again. Got it?"
Brodie's mouth twisted. His eyes glazed over as he stumbled back from me. It was a stronger reaction than I'd been expecting, and I frowned, even as Brodie nodded. It was done absentmindedly—as if he was in a daze.
I watched him for a minute, giving Brodie Thompson a final once-over. It was clear that something I said had gotten under his skin, but it was hard to pinpoint what. It didn't really matter, though. So I forced myself to back away slowly, glaring the whole time.
To my surprise, he stopped me.
"Hey, Hadaway."
"Yeah?"
He stared at me. His face was a sheet of white.
But then he shook his head before saying, "Never mind."
I paused. But only for a second. And then it was my turn to nod before finally striding away.
There was a bit of shakiness in my limbs as I pushed through the front doors of the Ripley Athletic Center. Fresh air hit my face, helping me to take a deep breath. It took a few minutes before I was able to unclench the fist in my pocket. My fingers tingled, numb.
Once I found my way back to where I'd parked, I quickly sped over to the Cardairel Hotel.
"Finally," Collins exclaimed, climbing into the car after I pulled up.
"Sorry," I said, meaning it. I'd kept her waiting at the hotel bar for way longer than I'd intended. "I had a few things I had to take care of after dropping off Madie."
Collins raised a brow, curious. But I shook my head. We didn't need to get into it all. I really needed to not think about Brodie right now. I was already regretting not kicking his ass.
"So, how was your weekend?" I asked. It was my turn to raise a brow. I hadn't seen Beau anywhere at the dorms this morning.
"It was..." She cleared her throat. "Good."
"Good?"
"Look," she said, twisting in her seat toward me. "You were right about Beau. He was a fun date, and I really like him. But it was just a one-weekend thing, ya know?"
"Wouldn't have to be just a one-weekend thing," I said, shrugging.
I couldn't help but notice she didn't say a one-night thing.
Collins rolled her eyes. "Just drop it, Bren. It was fun. Thank you for inviting me. Even though I caused some problems for you and your girlfriend." She grimaced. "Sorry about that."
I gave my head a little shake. She didn't really cause the problems. It was me, all me. I should have been more transparent with Madie, and then it likely wouldn't have been a big deal.
"It's alright," I replied. "We made up."
Fuck, that was an understatement.
The memories of all the ways that Madie and I made up were going to play on repeat in my head for the next few weeks.
Against the wall.
Against the bathroom counter.
In the shower.
In the bed.
A lot in the bed.
Collins laughed. "Made up, huh?"
I smiled. "Yeah."
Collins laughed even harder at that—probably because I had a stupid smirk on my face. But I couldn't help it.
I put the pedal to the metal as I merged onto the highway that led out of town. And even though it hurt to be driving away from Madie, it was easier than the last time I did it. This time, I had a plan. And I knew I'd be back soon.
To be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd ever return to college. It just wasn't for me. But Oakland was where Madie was, and so that's where I needed to be, too.
When I got back to Fresno, Caroline was happy to see me.
"Hey! How was Madie?" she asked excitedly as soon as I walked in. She stood at the stove with a floral apron tied around her waist, stirring slowly. Something smelled damn good, and I peeked over her shoulder to see a pot of spaghetti sauce.
How was Madie? I didn't really know how to answer that, considering the tears on her face when I'd left. So I just said, "We had a great weekend. Thanks again, Car."
She smiled, and it was a little tilted. "Lots of cuddles?"
I snorted before nodding my head. "Lots of cuddles."
It wasn't a lie.
Over dinner, I told Caroline about my decision to work with the police. She was still hesitant about the idea, but the next morning, she changed her mind.
A letter had shown up on the doorstep. It was from Luke Hadaway.
How was Oakland? I hope I can meet Madie soon.
Dad
🤍
Thoughts?
Thanks for reading!
xoxo amelie