Still, I nod, hoping I can trust Madeline, praying whatever she says will lead me in the right direction.
“Go to him now, Amber. Find him and tell him that you need him, that you’re in love with him.”
“I’m not in love with—”
“You are,” she interrupts, pulling me closer, her hands squeezing mine harder. “For whatever reasons you have, ones I won’t ask you about because they’re yours to keep, you’re denying your feelings for him.” She sighs and wraps me in her arms. “It’s written all over your face. Has been for a while. That fine piece of ass owned your heart the second you laid eyes on him, and you his.”
I rear back, my heart thumping out of control as the truth in her words brush over my limbs like a raging wildfire, burning me down to the core. Who am I kidding? I do love Ryder. I love him in more ways than I thought was ever possible. Love him so badly it hurts. Love him the way the earth does the warmth of the sun. My unconditional match, he’s whispered his love into my soul, my entire being lost without its calming presence.
Yet how do I call it love for Ryder when my feelings for Brock remain the same, untouched in all they are? There was a time in my life when I couldn’t rustle up a crumb’s worth of feelings, let alone love, for anyone, my heart locked off to the notion as I stood alone, afraid to death of it. I’ve seen what love turns into, the emotion the deadliest disease to the human race. But here I am, my heart bleeding out for two different men, the organ split down the middle between who it truly belongs to and who it truly loves and needs in order to produce another beat.
Confused, but determined to find and tell Ryder how I feel, I swallow my fear of love, my fear of trusting others. Hands shaky, I nod as Madeline hoots out in excitement. “You’re right. I do love him,” I confess, unable to believe I actually said it out loud. “God, I love him so much, Mad.”
“I know you do!” She gathers me in her arms, squeezing me as though I’m her lifeline. She has no idea. “That’s why this is a good thing, Amber.”
“But it’s not,” I say, working myself out of her hold. I stare into her eyes, mine filling with tears again. So weak. “It’s not good. Brock. I . . . I have to tell him. I can’t lie to him or myself anymore. I refuse.” I rush a hand through my hair and sway over to the window, peering down into the parking lot. My vision blurs on the asshole parked outside, who’s there to make sure neither I nor Madeline leave the building without him following us. “Maybe he’ll understand. Let the three of us go on as we are. He’s the one who wanted this to begin with. Begged to see me and Ryder together.”
“Hold up,” Madeline says, joining me. “Okay, that’s some kinky shit we’ll have to hit another time, but do you honestly think you’re going to be able to keep them . . . both?” She hooks her finger under my chin, dragging my attention to her confusion-swamped face. “Amber, you have to choose one of them. Not both. Surely you can’t expect that either guy will be cool with you loving the other? Come on. You’re noticeably out of it, but that’s just irrational thinking, chicky.”
“Mo, I . . . uh, mean, no. I’m not out of it,” I insist through a slur. I’ve always sucked at lying, plus I’m half tanked. “Well, I am a little tipsy, but yes, I think Brock will understand. He has to. Like I said, he’s the one who wanted this.” I open the window, sticking my head out into the frigid, early evening Friday night air. “Hey, asshole!” I yell, catching the attention of the moron three stories below us, sitting in a beat-up Chevy Trailblazer, his eyes narrowed on mine as he waits, alert, for either me or Madeline to try to get past him. Gotta love my paranoid boyfriend for keeping me hostage. “Go. The. Fuck. Away.” I kick him a wink, wondering if he caught it. I turn to Madeline, urgency thick in my tone. “Will you help me get out of here without numb-nuts seeing me? I have to find Ryder, Mad. Have to tell him how I feel. I’ll deal with Brock afterward, but right now, I need out of here without daffy-dick down there following me.”
“Yeah, I got you,” she says, helping me squirm into my pea coat as I pluck my car keys off my desk and gulp back the last few ounces of Captain Cool. She shoves a white winter cap onto my head, a green cashmere scarf following her motherly act as she spins me in the direction of the closet mirror. “I don’t think this whole I can have them both and be fine thing’s gonna work in your favor, but I have to ask on a serious note: Are you really going to see Ryder Ashcroft looking like this?”
Through mascara-streaked eyes, I glimpse my sweatpants-sporting, vintage-Metallica-donning getup and scowl, a sigh dropping from my mouth as I rip the cap off and attempt to pat my hair down from its just-fucked, demon-clown arrangement. It’s no use, but to hell with it. I’m going to see him looking like a deranged psycho stalker, my need to tell him I love him taking precedence over vanity any day.
Nodding, I slip the cap back on. “I don’t care what I look like. Now, how am I getting out of here unnoticed?”
Madeline kneels down, a giggle bursting from her chest as she helps me into a pair of purple, spongey snow boots. My appearance is getting worse by the second, but I have to keep my main goal in sight . . . the man I can picture spending the rest of my life with. The man who, if not by my side, I can see dying without in my darkened universe.
Madeline gets to her feet, a smirk creeping across her face as she pats my back. “Have no fear, my dear. Momma Maddie’s got a foolproof plan.”