But eventually never comes.
After another long day of classes and hiding in the library, trying to bury myself in coursework I can’t even process, I finally drag myself home.
I don’t expect to find them waiting for me. Carter and Lyla sit on the couch, their eyes immediately locking onto me the second I step inside.
I freeze in the doorway.
Carter leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his jaw tight. Lyla sits beside him, legs crossed, her usual teasing smirk nowhereto be found. Instead, she just watches me, quiet and uncharacteristically serious.
I know what this is before either of them even say a word.
An intervention.
A warm, loving, well-intentioned intervention.
And I hate it.
I let out a heavy breath, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "Really?" I mumble, toeing off my shoes. "This is what we’re doing?"
Lyla stands first, her arms crossing over her chest. "What you’re doing isn’t working, girlfriend."
I force a humorless laugh. "I’m fine."
Carter lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Bullshit."
My eyes snap to him, but before I can argue, he’s already pushing off the couch, standing to his full height, frustration etched across every inch of his face.
"You’re not fine," he says, voice steady but heated. "You look like a ghost of yourself. You’re barely eating, barely sleeping, and you’re avoiding everyone who actually gives a damn about you."
I shake my head, jaw clenched. "I don’t need this right now."
"Yeah?" He takes a step closer, his voice rising. "Well, I don’t really care what you think you need, because I know what you don’t. You don’t need to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not."
I swallow hard, my nails digging into my palms inside my pockets. Carter watches me, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what he expects me to tell him.
So, I say the same thing I’ve been telling myself every day since Jaxon walked away. "I’m handling it."
His laugh is sharp—not amused, but furious. "You’re not handling it. You’re drowning, Madison."
I flinch.
Lyla is still watching me, her expression soft, but her eyes are screaminglisten to him.
Carter scrubs a hand down his face before locking eyes with meagain, his expression no longer just frustrated, but pained. "Do you even realize you’re not the only one spiraling?" he asks, his voice quieter now, but somehow, it feels worse than when he was yelling.
My stomach twists.
"He’s just as bad as you," Carter says, shaking his head. "Probably worse."
I blink, my pulse spiking.
Carter lets out a bitter laugh. "You think you’re the only one suffering? Jaxon is wrecked, Madison. The guy gave up everything—risked his future, his career, his entire damn life—just because you called and said you needed him."
I stiffen, and Carter’s eyes narrow. "And what? You think that was just a drunken phone call?"
I scoff, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. "That’s exactly what it was."
Carter snaps. "You’re so full of shit," he seethes. "I’ve seen you drunk, Madison, plenty of times. And you know what I know about drunk you?"
