Make Me Bad(57)

“I think you’ve already mentioned the family—”

“Worst of all,” I say, sitting on the edge of his couch and dropping my head into my hands. “I think I’m already half in love with her. No, more—three-quarters of the way in love with her.”

Andy’s hand hits my shoulder and he pats twice before pushing to his feet. “Well, sounds like you know exactly what to do.”

I jerk my gaze up to him. “What? What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, just follow your heart. Listen to your gut. Let the winds of fate guide you to your destiny.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to wrap this up. I’m hungry and you don’t seem to be anywhere near the end of this existential crisis. Do you want a donut? I think I’m gonna make a run.”

Andy is absolutely no help.

I spend the remainder of my weekend stuck in a vortex of guilt and anger and indecision. I replay her voicemail and contemplate calling her back, but I can’t. She texts me Saturday night with two words: I’M SORRY. I feel so bad, I don’t reply. Why is she sorry? Why is she the one apologizing?

I don’t know what to say and Andy won’t come up with a reply for me, so I just don’t answer.

Sunday, she texts me again.

Madison: I really am. Y’know…sorry.





I want to shout at her to stop. The apologies are only making me feel guiltier. Her heart, the one so big it could fill a football stadium, is not something I deserve. Have I been playing with her feelings? Manipulating her for my own amusement? No. That’s what her dad thinks, but that’s not who I am. I have to keep repeating this to myself, especially after her brother visits me at work on Monday.

I’m in the middle of returning emails when one of my junior associates rushes in, eyes wide, lip quivering.

“There’s a police officer outside asking to speak to you. He says his name is Colten Hart. Are you under arrest or something? Will I have to find a new job?”

I wave away his concerns and push to stand, not at all surprised that Colten has come to talk to me.

Of course he’s wearing his police uniform, all black. Is he purposely fidgeting with the gun in his holster or am I imagining things?

The second I push open the door, he squares his shoulders, juts out his chin, eyes me like he wants to skewer me on a stick.

I have no idea how I should approach him. Guns blazing? Respectful and meek? That one nearly makes me chuckle. Yeah right. I settle on stuffing my hands in my pockets, narrowing my eyes, and waiting for him to speak first. It’s a power move in its own right.

“You have some nerve,” he says, spitting at the ground.

It’s like we’re in an old western and he’s about to challenge me to a duel.

“What can I do for you, Colt? I have a lot of shit to do.”

His upper lip curls and he steps toward me, finger pointing. Then he shakes his head and pivots to the side, cooling his jets.

“I’m not here to fight with you.”

That’s a surprise.

“I’m here because I want to talk to you about Madison.”

My stomach tightens at the mention of her name.

It’s been two days since I’ve seen her, two days since I’ve heard her voice or seen her in one of her colorful dresses. I wonder how angry she is with me for going radio silent. I wonder if she’ll understand when I explain my reasoning to her.

Colten keeps his gaze out on the parking lot as he continues, his tone is calm now, nearly civil. “You and your friends think this town belongs to you. You’re the gods and we’re just your playthings, here for your amusement.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Yeah? I seem to remember you being quite the asshole back in high school. You’re telling me you’ve really changed since then? That you’re not the same rich punk who used people however he liked?”

I throw my hands up, indignant. “Jesus, that was more than a decade ago. You think I’m still running around doing the same old shit?”

I used to think Sum 41 was the pinnacle of music. I thought long surfer hair and puka shell necklaces were going to be around forever. He can’t be serious right now. I was eighteen and stupid.

“I’m not the same person I was then.”

“Why are you messing with her?” he asks, gaze turning back to me.

“I’m not.”

“To you, people like Madison don’t matter. Not really.”

A trigger flips inside me and I’m in front of him, right in his face before I realize what I’m doing. I can smell the fucking coffee on his breath. I’m seconds away from grabbing hold of his collar and escalating this to a level neither of us want it to go to.

“She matters,” I say, so convincingly it’s like I’ve just chiseled the words into his chest.

He snorts derisively. “Yeah? Until when? Until another pretty girl catches your eye?”

I turn away to cool down, to regain some semblance of control.

I’m staring out at a tree in the parking lot. I stare so long my vision blurs and the leaves blend together into a mess of green, the exact color of Madison’s eyes.

“You think you deserve her?” he asks, voice nearly breaking. He sounds desperate. “What have you ever done in your life to deserve a girl like Madison? She’s good, Ben, better than you and me, and I won’t let you hurt her.”