Chapter Thirty-Two
Maggie
Brody breaking me out of jail took the top slot for the most humiliating things to ever happen to me in my entire life.
I had started the night with the hope of swooping in, winning him back, and showing him how much better I could be than I’d been. How ready I was to grow and change.
And what had I done? Given him more proof of the exact reason why he deserved better.
I was a loose cannon, unpredictable, and easily led astray by her emotions time and again.
All I could do was stare out Liam’s car window, fighting to suck in a breath each time Brody’s knee brushed against mine in the backseat.
After the fourth time, I started to think it was intentional, which just seemed cruel after his lips had been locked with some random girl from his past mere hours ago.
I forcibly turned my body to look out the window, scooting as far to the left as I could possibly get.
Ha. There was no way he could accidentally bump me now. Even with those outrageously long legs of his.
Part of me knew that I was responsible for all of this.
But the part of me running the show right now was the emotional, high-strung girl my father accused me of being, and even though she understood the logic of it all, it didn’t stop the pain from scorching her.
“Maggie,” he said through a wince. “Maggie, talk to me.”
Here I was, hurting him again.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be selfish with him.
I turned to him and forced, if not a smile, then at least a neutral expression.
Liam and Cassie were dead silent in the front seat, making the whole situation all the more awkward. I needed to hold onto a shred of my dignity after everything.
“You can have the apartment for a while,” I told him in what I thought would be a selfless offering. “You’ve stayed with Liam and Cassie long enough. I’ll take a shift with them now.”
“What?” Brody shook his head. “No, Maggie, that’s not what I—”
“It’s okay,” I stopped him. “It’s what I want.”
And really, I did. I couldn’t bear to be alone in the apartment anymore. Not where every corner held a memory of him, and I was ninety percent sure I had turned into my mother, bursting into tears at the sight of his dirty laundry on the floor.
But I didn’t deserve to cry, because it was my fault.
“Well, I’m not doing that,” he said blankly.
“Well, I’m not going back to the apartment,” I said resolutely.
“Fine, then neither am I,” he said, matching my snark and crossing his arms across his chest.
“So,” Liam cleared his throat, “where am I driving to right now?”
“I’m going to your house,” I met his gaze in the rearview mirror while he stared at me in a way that said, stop being a stubborn pain in the ass. “Like I said.”
“Brody?” He turned, exhaling the weariest of sighs.
“As am I.”
I turned, frowning at my smug-looking not-boyfriend sitting next to me in what looked like victory.
Whatever, I thought. Liam and Cassie’s mini mansion was big enough for both of us, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lock myself in the tomb of memories that was the apartment. I just couldn’t.
“Fine,” I bit out, daring him to back out first.
“Fine.” He smiled at me, tauntingly.
Liam groaned, taking a sharp left instead of continuing straight toward mine and Brody’s apartment.
“Yay,” Cassie let out an anxious giggle, looking at Liam with a nervous smile. “Sleepover.”