Page 111 of Broken Play
Footsteps retreat down the hall, and I don’t breathe until I hear her steps fade away.
Madison snorts. It’s so unexpected, so completely ridiculous, that I start laughing too.
She hides her face in the crook of my arm, shaking with laughter, her whole body vibrating against mine.
"Oh my God," she wheezes. "I thought she was going to open the door."
I grin against her skin, still catching my breath. "If she did, we’d have to flee the country."
She groans, still giggling as she shoves at my chest. "I really hope she didn’t hear us."
I smirk, letting my hands skim lazily down her sides. "Well, you weren’t exactly quiet.”
She gasps, swatting at me, but her face is still flushed, her body warm beneath mine, and damn, I could get lost in this girl.
I press a soft kiss to her lips, slower now, gentler, still feeling the thrum of what almost happened between us. She sighs into it, her fingers brushing over my jaw, her legs still loosely wrapped around me.
I am so gone for this girl.
She’s my best friend. My safe place. The person who makes me feel seen in a way no one else ever has.
And God, I want to be that for her too.
I want to be the reason for her smiles, the one who makes her laugh when life feels too heavy. I want to be the person she reaches for when things are good, when they’re bad, when she doesn’t know how to ask for help but needs it anyway.
I want to be the one who helps her mend the broken parts of herself. Not because she needs fixing, but because she deserves someone who will stand beside her, remind her she’s already whole, that she is enough exactly the way she is.
Because Madison isn’t just some girl I’m falling for.
She’s it for me.
37
MADISON
Winter break was…different.
Not because of the holidays, or the time away from campus, or even the ridiculous amount of food I consumed at the Montgomery house.
It was different because of Jaxon.
For the first time in a long time, I felt something I didn’t even realize I had been missing.
Home—not the kind built by four walls or a childhood bedroom full of memories, buthim.
The way his arms felt around me every night, how he reached for me in his sleep like it was second nature, how we spent more nights together than apart, completely wrapped in each other.
The easy, simple moments.
Cooking breakfast in his parents’ kitchen. Stealing pieces of bacon off his plate while he pretended to be offended. Staying up late, curled up on the couch, watching old movies while his fingers absentmindedly traced shapes on my skin. Waking up to his messy hair and that lazy, heart-stopping smirk, his voice still thick with sleep as he muttered a raspy “morning, beautiful” before pulling me back under the covers.
Jaxon Montgomery became my comfort.
My person.
And, God help me, I was starting to crave him in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with feeling safe with him.
Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t take full advantage of the other part too.
