Elijah silently guided me up the stairs and into my bedroom, his touch as gentle and ethereal as a ghost's whisper. The comforting pressure of his hand against my back spoke volumes, offering solace without the need for words.

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the latest being the realization that I had met one of my brothers before tonight. But given the gravity of the situation—my mother's murder, my godmother being shot, and my brothers kept away from me for ten years—I filed that information away as insignificant. The weight of everything was already slowly engulfing me, dragging me down like a lead box attached at my ankle, sinking in the sea.

Glancing down the corridor at the top of the stairs, I wondered if I was awake enough to explore the castle. However, he quickly dismissed the idea when I voiced my question.

His hand gently cupped my cheek, and I resisted the urge to lean into it, surrendering to sleep then and there.

"You're exhausted," he whispered tenderly. "You're running on adrenaline, and if I don't get you into bed, you'll crash. Trust me, we have all the time in the world to explore the house tomorrow, I promise."

Well, when he put it that way...

I sighed and reluctantly followed him into the bedroom like a mindless zombie. Part of me wanted to protest, but I could feel the energy seeping out of my bones, and I didn't have any fight left in me.

As we entered the room, guided by Elijah's steady presence, my attention was captivated by four large bags sitting on the bed. They looked shiny, sturdy, and expensive. A question danced in my eyes as I looked up at him.

He motioned for me to sit on the bed, taking a seat beside me. "Luke is still on his way to collect your belongings," he explained quietly, averting his gaze. "We had Jackson pick up a few things so that you would feel more comfortable until we can go shopping."

"You didn't have to. I can manage," I said quietly.

"Of course you can, but why should you have to?"

"Something tells me your standards are a little low," he said with a wry smile as he peeked into two of the bags and placed them on the floor. "We can unpack these tomorrow."

"Elijah," I said.

But he either didn't hear me or chose to ignore my feeble protest as he rummaged through another bag. "Here we go," he said, pulling out what appeared to be two pairs of pajamas. One pair was a soft gray adorned with brown hedgehogs, while the other had a ditsy floral top and pale pink bottoms.

He glanced at me and chuckled lightly. "Forgive Jackson, it seems he's forgotten that you've grown a little."

I shrugged my shoulders, offering a small smile. "They're sweet," I replied, not wanting to admit how cozy and warm they looked.

"That they are," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the pajamas for a lingering moment. The lingering moment extended, and I sensed a hint of sadness shadowing his once bright eyes. Gathering my courage, I tried to find the right words to ask him.

"Elijah?" I asked, meeting his gaze, which now exuded a profound sorrow that resonated within me. "Are you okay?"

His eyes softened. "Of course, Maddie." Yet, beneath the surface, his vibrant green eyes had dulled, losing the spark and intensity I had witnessed when we first met. His body seemed burdened by an unnatural tension, unlike Mason, who carried such rigidity with ease.

Elijah's piercing gaze tugged at my heartstrings, evoking a mix of conflicting desires—I didn't know if I wanted to cry, run away, or hold him tightly, never letting go.

In a barely audible voice, I mustered the courage to ask, "Do you miss Mum too?"

The question had been weighing on my mind ever since I met my newfound brothers.

Elijah seemed caught off guard by my inquiry, his eyes blinking as if searching for the right words. I noticed a slight gulp in his throat as he held back his emotions.

All six of them were survivors, their eyes telling tales of resilience and survival. But Abigail was their mother too, and despite my longer relationship with her, that connection. between a mother and her sons couldn't be erased by distance and time.

"I miss her," I confessed, my voice trembling, when Elijah remained silent.

His reaction was immediate, as if my words had jolted him out of a trance. Taking a deep breath, he placed the bag he was holding down and settled by my feet. His eyes closed briefly, and when they reopened, his gaze was unwaveringly fixed on me.

"I miss her too, Maddie," he responded softly, his words laced with a quiet sadness. Then, to himself, he added, "She should have been here for this."

I lifted my head slightly, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

"I had this whole reunion mapped out on your sixteenth birthday," he said with a nostalgic smile. But beneath that smile was an ocean of pain.

I couldn't help but sit up straighter, mesmerised by his words and the weight they carried.

"We'd come to your house, just me and Mason, in the afternoon. I had this image in my mind of hugging you for the first time. You would have looked at me with those big brown eyes, Mason's eyes, and you'd be confused, but deep down, you'd have recognise us."

He paused, his gaze drifting to the covers on the bed as if reliving the scene he had imagined. "Abigail would have baked her famous lemon drizzle cake and sat us all down at the table. We'd have tea, but you'd have your hot chocolate, just the way you like it with all trimmings," he grinned at that. "You would have had all these questions, but Abigail would explain everything. Then, I would take out the photo album I bought and we'd spend the afternoon looking through it. Just the four of us."

A lump formed in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes as I listened intently. My mind was busy painting the image as he spoke until I could almost taste the marshmallow-laden hot chocolate, and smell the freshly baked lemon drizzle she'd bake religiously every week.

"Afterwards, we would've taken you out to dinner, just me and Mason, to your favourite Italian. And then when we would've surprised you with a trip to Italy. The rest of your brothers would be waiting there, excited to meet you. We would've spent the week together, making up for all the lost time, with you and Abigail, and we would've answered every question you had. Then we'd decided with Abigail that we'd let you choose - if you wanted to stay with her, or come back home - because you'd be old enough to make that choice."

I sat up against the headboard, my knees pulled close to my chest, emotions swirling within me like a tempestuous storm that I couldn't tame. Elijah's emerald eyes then held mine, revealing a blend of sorrow, longing and regret that penetrated the depths of my soul.

"So no, Maddie, I'm far from okay," he exhaled heavily, his words tinged with a profound weight. "Because not only was that choice taken from you, but your mum was taken from you when you needed her most. And when I held you for the first time, I was sedating you, instead of hugging you. And the worst part is I don't think I would even change these past twenty-four hours if I could, because I won't let you go again."

My heart constricted painfully as I gazed at this man who had endured so much. Elijah wasn't grieving solely for our mother; he grieved for me and the ten years we missed, while I had been trapped in the innocence of ignorance. His selflessness overwhelmed me, and in that moment, I made it my mission to show him his worth.

Without hesitation, I pushed off the headboard and fell into Elijah's embrace. I curled up against him, wrapping my arms around his waist so tightly I could feel my ribs twinge. But it was worth it. I rested my head on his chest. I felt the rapid thud of his heart, mirroring the rhythm of my own, as we held each other in our embrace. His hand tenderly stroked my hair, offering solace and comfort in his touch.

"I'm so sorry, Elijah," I whispered, my voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't get to be a part of your life growing up."

He gave me a further squeeze, and I clenched my eyes against the slight pain. "Bambina, you have nothing to apologize for... I'm sorry we had to stay away," he murmured into my ear, his voice filled with regret.

"You were just a child too," I offered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled away, but his hands kept contact with my shoulders. "I was seventeen when you left, old enough to understand what was happening and agree to the decisions being made," he replied softly. "But you, Maddie, you were just a baby. This never should have happened."

I lowered my shoulders in a half-hearted shrug, unable to find the right words to convey the weight of my emotions.

Elijah offered me a sympathetic smile, his lips twitching as he observed my struggle. "Tired?" he inquired.

Again, I shrugged my shoulders, finding it easier to resort to my habitual silence when overwhelmed. And god, was I overwhelmed.

His amusement flickered in his eyes as he noted my reluctance to speak. "Well, why don't you go into the bathroom and put on the hedgehogs?" He said with a teasing grin. "I'll wait for you out here."

I glanced down at my disheveled state, contrasting sharply with the pristine soft brown pajamas. Despite my exhaustion, I realized that a shower was necessary. The dirt and grime clung to me like a second skin, and I knew I wouldn't find rest until I felt clean again, not to mention wearing those cozy pajamas.

"I was thinking... um, is it okay if I have a shower first?"

Elijah ran a finger gently under my eye, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure?"

"I feel gross," I confessed, my words a mere whisper as I picked at my ripped denim shorts.

"Will you stay awake?"

I hummed in response.

"Can I run you a bubble bath?" he offered instead, concern lacing his words.

"Mmm, shower, please," I mumbled, realizing that while a bubble bath sounded soothing and might lull me to sleep, it wouldn't effectively wash away the grime and weariness that clung to me.

"Alright. Shower it is," he agreed, guiding me into the bathroom.

He placed the cozy hedgehog pajamas on the heated towel rail next to a fluffy white towel. After briefly explaining how the shower worked, though the instructions were simple enough to figure out on my own, he hesitated to leave, his gaze lingering.

"Elijah?" I called, trying to bring him back to the present.

With a blink, he snapped out of his trance, refocusing his attention on me. "Right, I'll be just outside," he said softly before slowly and reluctantly leaving, gently shutting the door behind him.

Left alone, I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me. It was overwhelming, too much to process, and my body resisted recovery amidst the chaos. I quickly locked the door, and then collapsed on the toilet seat. As I sat there for far longer than necessary, I started to notice my body almost shutting down, becoming strangely detached and numb.

Consciously, I was painfully aware that the web of lies woven around me since childhood concealed something darker. Yet, as my mind numbed, I struggled to muster an appropriate response. Witnessing the murders of my mother and Isabel before my eyes, and then finding myself in a castle with six newfound brothers—it was utterly absurd. But instead of brewing with emotions, I felt an eerie calmness enveloping me.

Eventually, I managed to shed my battered clothes and stumbled into the spacious shower stall on autopilot. Adjusting the water temperature, I let it cascade over me like a gentle rain. Standing there silently, I watched as the water droplets enveloped me.

The gentle rain soon transformed into a torrential downpour, battering my body like a hailstorm. It scalded my skin as I pushed the temperature far beyond comfort. I couldn't recall how long I stood there, as time slipped away, marked only by the steam-laden air thickening in the bathroom, creating a hazy atmosphere. Tilting my head back, I let the sound of the shower drown out my thoughts and emotions, granting me a temporary respite from the inner turmoil.

A knock on the door interrupted my detached state, though amidst the whirl of thoughts and emotions, I could barely register it. Another knock followed, accompanied by Elijah's muffled voice, which struggled to penetrate the heavy door and the noise of the rain.

I blinked, glancing down at my body. The water had long since washed away the grime, transforming the once murky shower floor into crystal clarity. Blinking again, I tried to regain my bearings.

Finally, when I resurfaced, I could make sense of the urgency in Elijah's voice. "Come on, Bambina, open the door now. We're worried."

"I'm... fine," I whispered, but my feeble response was drowned out by the torrential downpour.

"Show you can hear me. Turn the shower off or say something," he pleaded, his concern palpable.

In my distant consciousness, I heard another door creak open, followed by the muffled murmur of a strict voice emanating from behind the door. Each sound seemed to echo in the hollow chamber of my mind, reaching me through a fog of detachment that had settled upon me like a shroud.

"Sweetheart, open the door now," Elijah's voice broke through the haze, his tone firm but laced with gentle concern. "Shall we get Harley in here?"

Please, do.

However, the weight of the moment made it difficult to respond. I stood there, hand trembling, hovering near the shower button, hesitant to turn it off and face the reality that awaited me beyond that door.

Mason's voice pierced through the fog, his words sharp and insistent. "Enough, Maddie. The door, now, or we'll force it open."

His words jolted me into action, snapping me out of my dazed state. I pressed my hand against the shower button, abruptly halting the deluge that shielded me from the outside world. As the rush of water subsided, a profound emptiness settled over the room, leaving behind an eerie silence that resonated within me.

"Maddie?" Harley's voice, gentle and relieved, reached my ears from the other side of the door. His concern was palpable. When had he arrived?

"H-Harley?" I stammered, finally finding my voice, though it sounded noticeably different. It was cold, devoid of much, well, anything.

I sensed a sigh of relief from the other side of the door, followed by the gentle reassurance of his voice.

"There's a towel robe on the back of the door. Put it on and come open the door, honey."

Silence hung heavy in the air as I contemplated my next move. I couldn't bring myself to face Mason and Elijah just yet, embarrassed of what had just happened. Uncertainty and fear coursed through my veins and a shiver swept over me now the water had subsided, not from the cold, but from the adrenaline crash Elijah had warned me would come.

"I'm okay," I managed to utter, my voice wavering with a mix of anxiety and detachment.

Harley responded with a touch of amusement. "Of course, you are. Nobody's upset. Just come out of there before you send Elijah to an early grave."

His words, tinged with lightheartedness, carried genuine concern. Encouraged by his support echoing in my mind, I mustered the courage to step out of the shower, wrapping the oversized, fluffy towel robe around my shivering body. Its softness and warmth offered a slight comfort.

"Are they still there?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible, my resolve wavering. Facing all three of them seemed impossible.

A hushed exchange of words came from the other side of the door, accompanied by fading footsteps and the soft closing of another door.

"It's just you and me, Maddie," Harley's voice soothed, reaching me like a lifeline. I slowly turned the lock, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension as the door swung open.

"Thank you, honey," Harley said, pulling me into a tight embrace. The moment was fleeting, as he soon held me at arm's length, concern etched in his eyes as he observed my red skin.

"You look like you've been out in the sun without lotion," he teased, trying to lighten the somber mood. But beneath his teasing, I sensed genuine worry.

He guided me to the edge of the bed, making sure I was settled before briefly disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a white fluffy towel in one hand and hedgehog pajamas in the other. He briskly dried my hair, his movements swift yet gentle. Wrapping the towel around my damp locks, he secured it in place, then settled beside me, giving me his undivided attention.

His gaze lingered on me before he spoke again, his words carefully chosen. "What happened in there, hm?"

My eyes drifted to the pristine white sheets covering the bed, finding them oddly fascinating. "I didn't hear them outside," I murmured.

A gentle chuckle escaped Harley's lips. "I'm sure you didn't, considering everything happening up there," he remarked, tapping his temple lightly.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a feeble attempt to mask the heaviness that enveloped me.

"Want to talk about it? You know I'm a good listener," he offered.

It was undeniably true. I had experienced firsthand Harley's ability to lend an ear, as I had often confided in him during those fleeting three months that he was my teacher. Strangely enough, the notion of my teacher suddenly becoming my brother felt oddly natural and effortless. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact he was a mere twenty-one year old at the time, and possessed a calmness that always put me at ease, unlike other teachers. My thoughts drifted to those moments he would patiently assist me with biology homeworks, all the while listening to my complaints about other teachers, the exhaustion of school and mum's parenting. He really was a great listener. Back then, I had seen him as an older brother figure. The irony of it all now struck me profoundly.

Nonetheless, I shook my head, mustering a feeble response. "Not really."

Harley's gaze, ever perceptive, met mine with a single nod of understanding.

"Free pass, then," he said with a wink. "But I won't let you keep it all in forever."

A sense of relief washed over me, as if the room itself exhaled, releasing the pent-up tension that had lingered in the air. Harley's presence acted as a soothing balm, bringing me comfort without probing questions. He possessed an innate understanding of when to push and when to respect my boundaries.

"Want to change into your PJs?" he eventually asked, placing them gently on my lap.

I nodded, and as he turned away, I quickly slipped into the cozy fabric. The soft material warmed me like the sun's rays, hugging me perfectly. I wondered briefly how they had managed to get the size just right.

"Done," I whispered.

Harley turned, his eyes filled with tenderness and adoration as he looked at my new attire. He didn't say a word, but silently pulled back the covers of the bed as I climbed in. It was moments like these that I cherished, the unspoken language between us.

"So, the doctor gave me some information about your injuries," he spoke softly, punctuating the silence that had settled between us.

My gaze lowered, suddenly aware of the multitude of bruises and wounds that marred my skin, each one a painful reminder of the violence I had witnessed and the toll it had taken.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Harley asked gently. "I promise, I'm qualified. I even have a certificate to prove it," he added, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a wink.

With a half-hearted shrug, I reluctantly allowed him to proceed with his examination. With meticulous care, he navigated through each injury, applying delicate feather-light touches and disinfecting the worst of the cuts with precision.

A comfortable silence enveloped us as he tended to the wounds on my hands and knees. As his inspection neared its end, Harley leaned back, his gaze fixed upon me.

"Anything else hurting?" he inquired gently.

I shook my head, noting and ignoring the ache of my ribs. A painful, yet welcome, reminder of what I had lost. But I didn't have time to dwell on the guilt that was gnawing at me before a sharp voice sliced through the air.

"Her ribs," Mason's voice was like a bullet in the air, commanding attention. I hadn't even noticed his entrance, like a silent panther.

My eyes shot up to meet his. Mason was stood firmly by the door, arms crossed, impeccably dressed in his customary jet black suit. His gaze, penetrating and unwavering, assessed me with intensity before shifting his attention to a Harley.

"She's been favoring her right side," he stated firmly.

Harley turned to me, concern evident in his eyes. "Is that true?"

I lowered my head, my words hesitant. "It's fine," I murmured.

Harley searched my eyes, his concern deepening. "Do you mind if I take a look?" he asked.

I shook my head, my hands tightly gripping the hem of my pajama top. Emotions churned beneath the surface, but I resolutely held them at bay, pouring my unease into my clenched fists.

"We can address this at the hospital," Mason asserted, a subtle threat in his words.

Frustration welled up within me as I fought against conflicting desires. A part of me wanted to rebel against Mason's authority, while another part desperately sought his approval.

Mason closed the distance between us, his steps deliberate and steady. Those eyes of his made me wonder if anyone had ever challenged him. With his deep gaze fixed on mine, I knew I couldn't.

With trembling hands, I released my grip on my pajama top, allowing Harley to lift it and reveal my bruised ribs. The sight elicited a wince from Harley, his breath catching sharply.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harley's words hung heavily in the air, a gentle reprimand.

Shame and guilt intertwined within me, forming a suffocating blanket of self-blame. I felt undeserving of their gentle attention, especially after the pain I had inadvertently caused my mother and Isabel. It was my burden to bear, my punishment for the chaos I had unleashed upon their lives.

So, I shrugged my shoulders, again.

"Not good enough," Mason's words were firm, but not unkind. "You need to let us know when you're hurting."

"We can only help if you let us."

But what if I don't want your help.

"We want to help," Harley continued. "None of us like seeing you in pain."

His voice was gentle but devoid of the usual teasing note. He was being completely serious. His words settled upon me like a weighted blanket, a reminder that I was not alone. Yet, my hesitation still lingered. It was woven into the fabric of my being, I hated asking for help, let alone from six brothers I had just met.

"We'll get these X-rayed at the clinic tomorrow."

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "No hospital."

Harley's gaze softened, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering gentleness. "It will just be me," he assured. "It's a private clinic."

I swallowed, daring to meet Harley's gaze, finding solace in the tenderness etched upon his face.

"Promise?" I questioned, a thread of vulnerability lacing my words.

"Pinky promise," Harley pledged, his eyes twinkling as he intertwined our pinkies. Memories of my six-year-old self flooded back, threatening to unravel the barriers I had constructed. But numbness echoed in my mind as a mantra.

"I would like to know how you sustained these injuries, Maddie."

The words emerged from Mason, who stood at the foot of the bed, silhouetted in the low light and dark suit. His voice remained low. Deadly. Like a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"She's exhausted," Harley protested.

"And she'll be exhausted for the next few weeks at least," was Mason's response. "There will never be a right time, and I'd rather not let her dwell on this by herself."

When Harley seemed to open his mouth to protest again, I quickly jumped in.

"It's okay," I said. "I'd rather get it out the way tonight."

It was true, but deep down, my primary motivation was the opportunity to demonstrate my newfound strength to my new family. A perfect opportunity, and I wouldn't let it pass me by.

"Maddie..." Harley's tone held skepticism.

"It's okay," I repeated, pushing my top down and shifting against the headboard. Summoning all the courage within me, I met Mason's gaze. "What do you want to know?"

Fear and apprehension coursed through me, but if there ever was a chance to test the numbness, the anesthetic I had found within myself, it was now. I wouldn't shed tears. I wouldn't flinch. I wouldn't tremble.

And I didn't.

Not when Mason pulled up a chair and positioned himself by my bedside.

Not when Harley paled upon hearing the account of my return from the beach.

Not when I narrated how my mother almost pushed me out of the car in an effort to save my life.

I didn't even flinch when Elijah entered, just as I was describing my mother's final moments before her demise. I strategically averted my eyes then, ignoring the way I saw him freeze.

A heavy silence settled in the room, so quiet that not even a heartbeat could be heard.

Mason cleared his throat. "Your injuries," he began. "They don't correspond with falling out of the car."

I had to give him credit. His voice remained steady and controlled, his unwavering gaze fixed on me. He sounded...emotionless, or at least he tried to be. But I couldn't help but notice the way his body tensed, leaning slightly forward, his hazel eyes shattering to a dark brown that concealed any hint of emotion.

Even his damn eyes obeyed him, I thought. Concealing any available emotion on demand. Maybe I could do that too. Command my eyes to stop feeling. But it felt nearly impossible. Fortunately, I remained concealed beneath the covers, where my hands tightly clenched on my knees were the only outlet for the turmoil inside me. I wouldn't cry.

Numb. I repeated.

"They're from the explosion," I explained, trying to school my expression as best as I could.

Harley lifted his head from his hands and excused himself to fetch some painkillers, leaving me alone with my two older brothers. I let my eyes follow his departure before settling on Elijah. Elijah. I swallowed hard, guilt washing over me. This would have been easier if it were just Mason. With him, I could find the strength to be as stoic as he was. But Elijah was different. His transparent green eyes were like glass. They revealed everything: sadness, regret, pain, longing...and something I hadn't seen before, anger.

"Explosion?" Mason's voice was quiet yet laced with a lethal undertone.

"Hm," I murmured softly. "She made me promise not to follow her, but after... after the crash, I didn't listen. I ran toward her, but... well, the car... it exploded."

Another silence stretched out, agonizingly long. I didn't say another word until it became clear that neither of them could find the right words either. Desperate to avoid the silence, I continued, words tumbling out without thought.

"So, I think the force of the blast pushed me to the ground, which probably explains the injuries," I rambled, wishing I could stop myself. "When I stood up, well, there wasn't much left of the car, so I...I ran."

But you should have checked. You should have checked. She could have been alive. Burning. Screaming. Crying. And you left her. You left your mum to die.

I inhaled sharply.

A hand covered mine.

Mason.

In this strange world I found myself in, it was Mason who offered comfort. Elijah, I was sure, would have done the same, but he seemed frozen, unsure of what to say. He simply stood by the door, motionless. His green eyes deathly pale, a stark contrast to Mason's eyes, which now resembled the dark night sky.

"So, you followed Abigail's instructions and went to find the bus," he said, picking up the thread of my account.

His words seemed to absolve me of blame, and I desperately wanted to believe him. But the devil on my shoulder continued to taunt me.

"Sure," I mumbled. "Then I met Isabel, then I met you, and now I'm here," I finished quickly, ensuring that my carefully constructed facade remained intact.

"Now you're here," Mason repeated slowly, his eyes scrutinizing mine, searching for answers to what was transpiring in my mind.

I held his gaze, determined not to let him see anything. Whatever he was searching for, I made sure he wouldn't find it. I pushed down all my emotions, burying them deeper and deeper, until my eyes were as void of emotion as his.

"I can't remember anything about the car," I said plainly.

My words came out of nowhere, and Mason tilted his head slightly, trying to keep up with my train of thought.

"I didn't remember down the license plate," I explained.

Mason blinked.

"For the police," I clarified.

He nodded, but I could tell he was having a hard time understanding my behaviour and reactions. Which is exactly what I wanted. A distraction. So now he wasn't analysing my every move, waiting to pull the jenga piece from my tower.

"Alright. That's okay. I'm sure the... police," he chose his words carefully, "will be reviewing the CCTV footage as we speak."

"Good," I agreed. "I think we were being followed for a while. My mom said 'they found us,' like they were actively searching for us. But they might have died in the crash," I shrugged, attempting to conceal the shiver that ran through me at my words. Apparently my body wasn't quite so keen to obey by my mind.

It was too late, anyway. Mason's eyes flickered, and he caught the shiver before I could push it back. After all, I was playing his own game.

After a moment of silent tension, a silent stand-off as I prepared myself for him to call me out, he leaned back in his seat. His hands steepled together on his thighs.

"You've been helpful, Maddie. Thank you," he said, although his words held an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite pinpoint.

He called an end to the evening by pushing his chair back and standing. His eyes met mine once more. "Harley will be in with some painkillers. But get some sleep now, and I'll see you in the morning."

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A/N: Happy Tuesday again! Any plans for the week?

What did you think? I love writing how Maddie looks up to Mason so much and without realising, tries to copy what he does when he masks his emotions. The pair are actually so similar. Also, when I was writing the shower scene, I couldn't get TVD out of my head, with everyone turning off their humanity. Just made me laugh.

Poor Maddie... no wonder she's numb after everything that girls been through. And Harley. He's literally her guardian angel. What do you think of him? Do you love him as much as I do? He just always knows the right thing to say.

Next chapter is an exciting one, can you guess? Should have a few more lighthearted moments (haha, sure).

Please keep writing your comments, they honestly make my day. You guys are brilliant. And keep voting if you can! Btw, does anyone else love the new pink heart emoji? I can't stop using it. I've been dying for it forever🩷