“Please leave,” she whispers into her hands.
My heart does that weird twisty thing again and I know that I can’t leave her like this. I wouldn’t leave anyone on the floor like this, but there is something about this woman that calls to me. Like we are tied together by an increasingly shortening rope.
I shake my head.
“It goes against my very nature to walk away from a person who so clearly needs help.”
Her whole body slouches as I adjust my weight to sit down beside her. But she doesn’t crawl away.
“I’m Oliver.”
She sniffs before answering. “Madison.”
Her voice is raspy, whether by nature or due to the crying I don’t know, but it melodies in my ears. I want to hear her talk more. About anything. About everything.
“So, are you okay?” I repeat the question even though I’m not fully expecting her to answer.
Her shoulders shrug, but she pulls her hands from her face, wiping her eyes on her grey sleeves as she does. She is stunning. Blonde hair falls in gentle waves past her shoulders, and even with the bruising and puffiness, she is perfect.
“Not really.”
Her answer hits my chest like a hammer, the urge to make everything okay surging through me. Unexpected anger courses through my veins, my blood boiling that someone has caused this much hurt. This woman, Madison, is drawing every emotion possible out of me. Emotions I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s concerning, but somehow endearing. I need to find out why my body has such a strange reaction to her. But first I need to help her stop crying. With each tear the hammer drives a nail deeper into my heart. I can’t stand her tears.
I push my boots into the carpet as the wave of emotion recedes.
“Do you … want to talk about it?”
For a second, she stares up at me. Her eyes blank as she blinks away tears. She closes them, shaking her head before answering.
“You know what, sure.” She sucks in a deep breath. “Everyone leaves. Everyone lets me down. I have only ever had my sister, but now she is leaving too. The one person I could rely on. Gone. Just like all the others.”
I have no idea how to respond. Instead, I stretch my arm around her, hovering my hand over her shoulder before finally settling it down. Her head falls to my shoulder. My pulse jumps as her hair settles down my back.
“Where is she going?”
“Sydney.” Wincing, she turns to look up at me. “I mean, I have nothing against Sydney, but she is only going so that she can be with her boyfriend and it just … I don’t know, it irks me that he is making her move.”
“Did she not get a say?”
“No. I mean, maybe? She is a florist, so she can work anywhere. He wants to be a journalist, and apparently Sydney is the place to be. So, they made the decision to leave.” Holding her hands up, she air quotes the word ‘they’.
“I get the impression you don’t like him?”
“What gave it away?”
She smiles. And everything else disappears. How much I hate my job, the all-consuming decision of what to do with the money, the books I left scattered on the floor. The library. Shit, the library. If she is a student …
Jerking my arm off her shoulders, I scramble away to collect the books lying around us. My rapid movement causes her to push to her feet. From my knees, I look up to see her holding my favourite book. It has to be a coincidence.
“What’s wrong?” Madison raises an eyebrow as she takes in my frantic state.
Piling the last book into my arms, I stand to face her.
“Are you a—” My throat squeezes shut, the word refusing to come out even though it’s crucial that I know the answer. I doubt it would put a stop to the confusing range of emotions still swirling through me.
I don’t believe in love at first sight. I barely believe in lust at first sight. But there is no denying that there is something special about Madison. Something I can’t look away from, pulling me towards her and holding me close.
“—a student?” The words finally force their way through my throat, and I choke as they do.
