Page 42 of When Forever Falls Apart

Slowly, I guide her toward the exit.

Outside, the warm breeze wraps around us, a remnant of the summer heat. Madelina leans heavily against a lamppost, barely able to stand on her own. I dig through her purse for her car keys, aware that stowing her on the back of my bike would be a stupid move.

“What… what are you doing, Eva’s brother, Elliot?” she slurs, blinking in confusion. “Oh, no… I think I’m going to be si—”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I step forward, catching her just in time as she vomits on the curb.

Instinctively, I clutch her hair into my fist, then pull it back to avoid it getting caught in the aftermath. I give her a moment, but glance down and wince as I see the evidence of her mishap decorating her dress.

“I need to get you home,” I say softly, kneeling beside her.

“Don’t leave me,” she begs, her tone quivering. “Please don’t leave me, Elliot.”

I rub the small of her back. “I won’t, Bugs,” I whisper as she reaches out for my arm, desperate for support. “You’re safe with me.”

CHAPTER 12Elliot

“We’re going back to my place.”

We reach Beatrice, as Madelina so annoyingly likes to call her car, and I attempt the challenging task of getting her into the passenger seat.

Trying to get anyone intoxicated into a vehicle is a feat in itself. Hell, I’ve been the victim more than once. I open the passenger door and use all my strength to get her in without injuring either one of us. Given that the Mini is a small car, it proves more difficult than I initially thought.

With her safely buckled in, I slide into the driver’s seat, embarking on the short journey to my houseboat. It’s the most sensible option since navigating a flight of stairs to my sister’s apartment would be a nightmare.

The roads leading to the lake are dead, with only one car passing by during the trip home. When the trees form a clearing, I turn and steadily take us along the bumpy road until we reach the dock. I pull the handbrake, then turn off the engine, giving myself a moment before taking her inside.

“Madelina,” I whisper. “We’re here.”

Her eyes remain closed, only a slight flutter and incoherent mumble.

With a deep, weary sigh, I swing open the car door and step out into the night. I stretch my arms high above my head, relishing the release of tension in my muscles before needing to move her into the boat. My gaze drifts lazily to the adjacent dock, where Ronald’s houseboat floats serenely. A few warm lights flicker invitingly from within, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, since he enjoys reading Shakespeare’s verses—when he’s not cussing at Gordon.

I scoop Madelina up, surprised by how light she feels in my arms this time. With careful steps, I carry her across the threshold, then make the short journey toward the bedroom. Lowering my arms, I lay her gently onto my bed as she continues to sleep.

She’s still wearing her dress, and given the earlier incident, it would only be right for me to remove it rather than let her sleep in it.

But you will see her naked.

Okay, not completely naked, but close to it.

“Madelina,” I call softly, “I need to get you out of this dress. You have vomit on it, and that’s gross.”

She stirs, then mumbles, “I don’t like vomit, take it off.”

“Okay… I guess I’ll take that as a yes. For the record, I don’t think anyone likes vomit.”

The warmth of her skin lingers on my fingers as I remove her stained dress, and for a brief second, I relish in the delicate lace of her white bra covering her full tits. Her nipples protrude beneath the see-through fabric, making this all the more trying. The panties she wears match, a thin piece of string wrapped around her hips as she lies on her side.

This is fucking insanity—she’s your sister’s best friend.

A rush of heat floods through me, but I force myself to look away.You can’t go thinking things just because she’s almost naked in your bed.

Instead, I grab a T-shirt from my dresser to cover her. It’s my favorite bed shirt, but I place it on her anyway. Once she’s clothed, I sit back, watching her fall into a more profound slumber. She looks so peaceful, but her soft murmurs soon echo inside the small room.

“Myles… Myles… please don’t hate me,” she pleads in her dreams, a gentle snore punctuating her confession.

As I lie beside her, the lamp’s glow dims, and my mind wanders to Nicole.