Chapter 23
TWENTY THREE
WITHOUT A BACKWARD glance, I shove through the crowd.
I fight for every step.
The music pounds, a deafening roar vibrating in my bones. The flashing lights are disorienting. I stumble blindly, pushing past bodies, ignoring the muttered curses.
I need to get away. Find somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can breathe.
My head spins. The room tilts. I bump into someone hard, a solid shoulder that sends me spinning. Nausea clenches my stomach. My legs turn to water. I reach out, my hand landing on a smooth, hard surface. I slide down, sinking to the floor, back against the wall.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the noise, the lights, the suffocating feeling of being trapped.
A few shaky breaths.
It doesn’t help.
My head still throbs. The image of Matthew’s face, contorted with fury, is burned into my mind. And that stranger…
I cringe.
“What the fuck was that?” His voice is low. Tight.
It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.
I look up.
He’s standing over me. His expression carefully neutral, but a muscle ticking in his jaw betrays the storm within. He’s breathing heavily, as if he’s been running.
The thought of facing him, of answering that question, makes my stomach flip. I stare at the trembling hands in my lap.
He slides down the wall beside me. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t speak. He just sits there, a solid presence in the dimly lit hallway. He leans his head back against the wall, resting his hand on the floor between us, palm up.
My breath catches.
I reach out, my fingertips brushing his, but then retract.
“Please…” I whisper. “Leave me alone, Matt… Just go…”
Matthew closes his hand into a fist, knuckles white. He doesn’t look at me. His gaze shifts briefly to where our hands almost touched before he returns to scanning the hallway.
“The person you’re hurting most is you,” he says, eyes fixed on the dance floor in the distance.
A dry laugh, more like a sob, escapes me. “All I wanted was to get lost in this night. To forget. I told you not to come.”
Matthew remains silent, jaw tight, gaze fixed on the flashing lights.
The silence stretches.
“You’re right. I should’ve never come.” He finally looks at me, his eyes darkening with a pain that mirrors my own. “You think I wanted to find you like that? Pressed up against some random guy.”
He stands up.
The words hit me like a slap.
Shame, hot and heavy, swallows me whole.
I can’t meet his gaze.
I stare down at my hands, fresh tears blurring my vision.
“It’s James’s idea, remember?” I force out, my voice quivering. “I was just practicing.”
Matthew takes a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“Practicing?” he repeats. “Is that what you call it? Throwing yourself at some stranger and letting him—” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
“That’s not the solution, Amy. This isn’t the way to deal with this. This isn’t you.”
“You seem to have me on a pedestal where I clearly don’t belong.”
“Fuck that!” Matthew retorts, cutting through the fog in my brain.
“Don’t give me this bullshit. You think I don’t know you’re hurting?
I don’t see what he’s done to you?” He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes briefly.
“What do you want me to say, Amy?” He takes a step closer, his eyes searching mine.
“That it’s okay? That you should just let yourself disappear into…
this?” He gestures around at the club with raw anger.
My chest tightens.
I look away, blinking rapidly.
I can’t breathe.
The realization is sudden. Terrifying. It’s not just a thought. It’s a physical reality.
My eyes widen. My lungs seize, unable to draw in air.
I try to stand, pushing myself up with shaky hands.
I need to get out.
Need air.
But my legs wobble. Dizziness hits me. The room spins, the flashing lights and throbbing music morphing into a chaotic assault on my senses. My knees buckle, and I sink back down to the floor, hand flying to my chest to clutch the fabric of my dress.
I can’t…
I can’t…
The words repeat in my head.
“Amy?” Matthew’s voice, sharp with alarm, seems to come from a great distance.
I can’t see him clearly. Can’t focus.
The edges of my vision turn dark.
I gasp, a desperate, choking sound, but no air reaches my lungs.
“Do you feel sick?”
I shake my head slightly, unable to do anything but claw for air that won’t come.
Without another word, Matthew effortlessly scoops me up in his arms. The movement is jarring, but his hold is secure.
I focus on the strength in his arms. The solid warmth of his body.
I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers burying themselves in his short hair.
My cheek presses against his chest. I feel the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath my ear.
A grounding rhythm in the swirling chaos.
He moves through the crowd, steps determined.
“Grab some water and follow me to the parking lot,” he calls to someone.
The blast of fresh air is a lifeline. A first true breath filling my suffocating lungs.
Matthew’s pace is brisk but steady. His shoes strike the pavement as the club’s throb fades. I cling to him, face still pressed to his chest, inhaling his scent.
Clean.
Masculine.
Comforting.
He stops, breath warm against my cheek. “I got you,” he whispers. “But I have to put you down.”
He waits for my nod before lowering me. He supports my weight with one arm, opening the passenger door with his other hand. “Easy, love,” he murmurs, guiding me onto the seat.
I sit sideways, feet planted on the asphalt. The sudden quiet is disorienting after the sensory overload. I hunch over, burying my head in my hands to block out the chaotic pounding inside.
Footsteps approach. “Here’s your water,” a gruff voice says.
“Thanks,” Matthew replies, the words clipped and brief.
I feel him crouch down in front of me, the shift in his weight, the slight rush of air. “Amy, I need to see your eyes.” His voice is a quiet, insistent plea.
When I don’t respond, his hand gently smooths my hair back, fingers lingering against my temple.
“Want me to call an ambulance?”
“No, thanks. I got this,” Matthew replies, firm.
There’s a pause and then the sound of retreating footsteps.
Matthew rests his forearms on either side of my thighs on the car seat. His body is a silent barricade between me and the world.
Silence descends again. But it’s different now. It’s not empty. It’s not suffocating. It’s…
Loaded.
Warmth radiates from him. He’s so close, yet not touching me.
His breath stirs my hair. A silent reassurance.
His scent, clean and familiar, mixes with the lingering trace of alcohol on me.
Without meaning to, my breathing syncs with his.
A slow, steady rhythm calming the frantic beating of my heart.
Slowly, I lift my head, my gaze finding his.
His eyes, dark just moments ago, now hold a flicker of warmth.
It’s as if the shared silence has stripped away all anger and pretense.
For a long moment, we just look at each other, the world outside fading away.
Concern is etched in his expression, a question in those green depths.
And something else. Something I can’t quite name that chases away the lingering chill.
“Drive me to the coffee shop?” I ask, unsteady.
A faint smile teases the corners of his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What’s at the coffee shop?”
“I would kill for some coffee,” I say, attempting a light tone, but my hoarse voice still quivers.
He chuckles softly, a low rumble in his chest. “It’s past midnight, love,” he reminds me.
A sharp intake of breath follows the word.
A blush creeps up my neck.
Matthew’s eyes go wide. For a split second, pure, unguarded panic flashes in their depths. He tears his gaze away, the movement jerky, and reaches for the water bottle on the pavement. “I have your water right here.”
Amused by his sudden discomfort, I repeat, my voice a little stronger now. “Coffee, please. I’ll even make you one and throw in a croissant. Or two if you’re extra nice.”
“You’re still feeling that alcohol, aren’t you?”
“Because I am offering you my croissants?!” I gasp in mock offense.
He throws his head back in laughter.
For the briefest of moments, my aching heart swells, remembering what joy feels like.
He shakes his head, still chuckling, but his eyes soften. “While I appreciate the offer, I promise to make you coffee in the biggest mug I own. But please, let’s just go home.”
I narrow my eyes. “Exactly how big is your mug?”
Matthew bursts into laughter again. He grabs my legs and swings them into the car. “Unbelievable,” he mutters between chuckles before shutting the door.
Exhaustion, sudden and overwhelming, washes over me in the quiet safety of his car.