I don’t know why I haven’t agreed to move in with Brady since I practically already live here. I’m rarely at the dorm, which means I haven’t run into Vince lately.

Brady and I went to visit him after my mom left that Sunday, but since then, Brady has been going by himself. He also took me to his sister’s for dinner, which was nice and relaxing. Her husband and children were welcoming and friendly, just like her. Brady and Maura are very similar in their joking, carefree personalities, so there was nothing uncomfortable about it.

My mom called last night from my grandma’s. My dad has already hired his lawyer to fight my mom for everything they have. She tries to keep it from me, but my grandma fills me in behind their backs. My dad hasn’t tried to contact me since the night I left the house, and I prefer it that way.

I worry because Brady has had to go out a couple of nights to pick Vince up from the police station. The situation is getting worse, which makes Brady more reserved and quiet. Vince is fortunate that he was such a distinguished professor at the university where they do everything they can to help Brady and Maura handle the situation. Brady usually picks Vince up and then takes him to a friend’s house to sleep it off. Vince is adamant that he won’t come back to the house.

I see the toll it’s taking on Brady, and he’s beginning to pull away. His body slumps every time his phone rings, as he fears the worst. He’s started having nightmares, and he’s been talking in his sleep. Usually, it’s just mumbles that I don’t understand, but last night, he called out for his dad in a panic. I quickly woke him up, and he instantly wrapped his arms around me tight, burying his head in the crook of my neck. He didn’t say anything. He just held me close until he fell back asleep.

Brady and Maura talk a couple of times a day to discuss the situation and what they should do. I often find Brady in the studio, strumming his guitar and singing quietly.

Tonight is one of those nights.

It’s three in the morning, and I woke up without Brady, which has been the norm recently. When I open the door to the basement, the lights glow, so I venture downstairs.

Staring through the glass, I admire Brady playing his music. I sometimes wonder why he isn’t pursuing a career in that since it calms him. Seeing him in his pajama pants and no shirt with his guitar resting on his lap, the burn of having him inside me grows.

He looks up, notices me, and waves me into the room.

“You should be sleeping, beautiful,” he says, continuing to strum a few chords.

“So should you.” I make my way over to him.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Talk to me,” I request.

He opens his arms, moving me between himself and the guitar.

“How about I teach you?” He changes the subject and places my hands on the guitar.

“Brady,” I sigh, letting his hands over mine.

“Press this string, and strum with this hand,” he instructs, ignoring my pleas to talk.

After a few chords, Brady starts to kiss the back of my neck, and I feel his hard bulge on my back. I tip my head back, enjoying his lips and tongue on me. In turn, Brady props his guitar against the wall, and his hands instantly plant themselves on my breasts, massaging them. My hands rest on his firm thighs, and I push my ass into his crotch, feeling his erection.

I circle my hips while his hands roam up my tank top and pinch my nipples. I moan in bliss as Brady stands up, pushing me against the glass panel. He slowly runs his hand down my spine and then pulls my boxers down around my ankles.

When I try to step out of them, he says, “No, baby, stay.”

He pulls my tank up, exposing my breasts. Then, he lifts my arms, pressing my palms against the glass. I stand there with my back to him, my front sprawled across the glass panel, with my shorts around my ankles and my shirt scrunched up around my neck.

“So fucking hot,” he whispers in my ear.

I have never seen this side of Brady, but I’m enjoying it immensely. I can feel how aroused I already am, and I need him inside me.

“I’m going to fuck you just like this, Sadie,” he states.

I wait in anticipation.

“Please, Brady,” I plea.

He starts kissing my shoulder blade, making his way down my backside before coming back up. Placing his hands on my hips, he pulls me back into him. I feel his cock at my entrance, and I relish the moment.

“Ready, baby?” he asks.

“Yes,” I desperately answer.

Before I can prepare myself, he is inside me, thrusting into me deeper with every push. He’s never been rough like this, and I’m surprised at the arousing effect it has on me.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathlessly speaks into my ear.

I moan as my body gets smashed against the glass, and Brady reaches around, playing with my clit. I scream his name and roll over the edge. A second later, Brady pumps into me twice before his fingernails dig into my hips, holding them in place.

“Fuck, Sadie!” he shouts, stilling inside me.

Then, his hands grab my ass, and he lifts me, so I’m straddling him. He throws our clothes in between our bodies.

“Now, I want you in my bed,” he whispers, kissing my lips.

His lips remain on mine while he carries me up the two flights of stairs.

He places me in his queen-size bed.

Then, he positions me on top of him while his fingers flow through my hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” his shaky voice asks.

“No, of course not,” I answer.

I turn my head up to him, and he cups my cheek with his hand.

“Good. You know how much I love you.” Tears fill his eyes.

“And I love you.” I smile up to him.

I know what he’s doing. I did it myself. If sex makes him forget, I’ll happily oblige, but, eventually, we’ll have to find a healthy way to help him deal with his dad.

---

I jolt awake when Brady’s body shifts under me. I glance at his clock and see it’s only been an hour since we fell asleep.

“Shit! I’m on my way,” Brady says into the phone as he climbs out of bed.

I sit up, refusing to take a backseat any longer. He didn’t remain passive when it came to my issues, and I won’t when it comes to his.

“Let me get dressed,” I say, swinging my legs over the bed, ready to get out.

He steps toward me. “No, Sadie, I’ll be right back.”

He places his hand on my shoulder, trying to keep me on the bed, but I stand up anyway.

“It’s not a choice, Brady. I’m coming.” I get up from the bed and grab my yoga pants and sweatshirt.

“You don’t need to see this,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “Please,” he begs.

I walk over to him and place my hand in his. “They were your words, Brady. You said you would never let go, but I feel you slipping away. Every night, you disappear, and then I find you downstairs. And every day, when I wake up to your sad eyes, we slowly become more disconnected.” I lean in closer. “You have to let me in, Brady.”

“It’s pathetic and sad, Sadie. My dad isn’t the man you know on these nights.” He puts his head down, staring at the ground.

“Brady, what are you afraid of?” I question, bending down to meet his eyes.

“That you can’t handle it,” he admits.

“And what?” I pry.

“You’ll leave,” he says, finally divulging the whole truth.

I can work with this.

“Did you leave me?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“No, and I’m not going to leave you,” I tell him. I grab his hand. “Let’s go.” I lead us out of the room.

Brady doesn’t say anything on our way out to the car, but he keeps my hand in his.

Progress.

We pull up to the police station, and an officer walks up to the car before we can even get out. He informs Brady that they had to send Vince to the hospital for what they believed was alcohol poisoning.

On the drive to the hospital, Brady calls Maura to let her know, and she says she’s on her way.

He parks in the visitor parking lot, and I entwine our fingers as we walk into the emergency room entrance. I give his hand a squeeze right before the sliding doors open, and he looks over at me. Fear fills his eyes, and I hope he lets me in.

Brady walks up to the nurses’ station, giving his name, and she tells him to take a seat and someone will be out. We sit in the plastic chairs, not paying attention to the infomercial on the television. Brady’s leg bounces while groans flow out of his mouth. Clearly, he doesn’t want to be here, and I can’t help but think that maybe my presence is making this worse. He hasn’t even glanced my way since we walked into the hospital.

Finally, a nurse comes in, calling Brady’s name.

Brady stands up and then turns to me. “Just please stay here? At least until I can see what is going on.”

Seeing the anguish in his eyes, I nod my head and sit back down, watching him walk out of the room.

I try to distract myself by flipping through magazines or watching an infomercial about some skin care regime. I’m thankful when Maura bursts into the room.

“Oh, Sadie, I’m glad he brought you,” she says, obviously out of breath from rushing here.

“I didn’t really give him a choice,” I comment.

She embraces me. “He’s lucky to have you. He won’t easily take to you witnessing this, so just remember, he loves you,” she warns me.

I can’t help thinking that she’s the second person close to him who has told me this.

“I don’t plan on leaving,” I assure her.

She smiles my way, taking my hands in hers.

“I knew I liked you that day in spin.” She turns around and makes her way to the nurses’ station. After making friendly conversation with the nurses, she walks toward the rooms in the emergency area.

I sit back down, waiting for some news.

About fifteen minutes later, Grant walks in and takes the seat next to me.

“Any news?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Who called you?” I question, noticing his sleepy face.

He’s wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and a baseball cap covers what I assume is his bed head.

“Maura.” He takes his ball cap off, repositioning it. “I’m surprised to see you,” he states, still staring straight ahead.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I snap.

“Oh, Sadie. I just meant, because of Brady. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, Grant. I’m just touchy. I know what you meant.” I place my hand on his knee when Brady walks into the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Brady asks, anger evident in his voice.

“Of course not.” I stand up and walk toward him.

Grant follows my lead.

“It’s not good. Alcohol poisoning,” he says directly to Grant.

Grant nods his head.

I guess it’s familiar territory.

“Can you take Sadie home?” Brady asks.

“No, I’m not leaving,” I declare to him.

“There isn’t a reason to be here, Sadie,” he says, releasing an exasperated breath.

“I’m here for you, Brady.” I touch his arm in reassurance.

“I don’t need you,” he bitterly responds.

I quickly remove my arm.

“That’s not what I meant. Just…go, Sadie.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“No.” I stand there, not moving.

“Sadie…”

“I’ll stay in the waiting room if you want, but I refuse to leave here without you,” I demand.

“Fine,” he deadpans, clearly annoyed with this conversation. “Grant, can I have a word with you outside?” He motions with his head for Grant to follow.

“Sure,” Grant says, looking at me, before exiting the room.

Brady doesn’t hug or kiss me before he leaves. This is a very different Brady than I have ever known, and for the first time, I wonder if we’ll get through this.

Sitting down in the uncomfortable chairs, I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I will not let them fall.

Be strong for Brady, I tell myself over and over.

Grant comes in a couple of minutes later and sits down in his previous seat. I don’t ask what Brady was talking to him about, and Grant doesn’t divulge it either. The uneasy silence between us fills the empty room until Kara walks in.

What the hell?

“Oh, Grant, I came as soon as John told me.” She rushes in, taking the seat next to him.

My eyes glare toward her and then to Grant. This little threesome of theirs is starting to piss me off.

“You didn’t need to come, Kara. You know he won’t want you here.” Grant continues to thumb through a sports magazine.

“She’s here,” she spits, nodding her head in my direction.

“I’m his girlfriend.” I leer and put my magazine down on the table.

“Only because you slid your way in past me,” she continues, positioning her body to face me completely.

“There was no sliding, Kara. You need to get over it.” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs, picking up my magazine again.

“Girls, let’s remember why we are here,” Grant chimes in.

Kara turns her back to both of us, thumbing through her phone.

She’s dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun. Obviously, she just rolled out of bed, and I wonder who John is, why he knew about Vince, and how often Kara has been here with Brady when I haven’t. The more questions that run through my mind, the angrier I become.

I decide to go for a walk. Grant tries to come with me, but I’m able to divert him.

I make my way over to a vending machine and purchase a coffee. Although I usually take it black, I decide on cream and sugar, hoping it might camouflage the bad taste. Just as I start back down the hall, I spot Brady and Maura heading into the waiting room. By the time I get there, Kara is hanging on Brady, and he isn’t pushing her away. The four of them abruptly stop talking and stare at me when I walk in the room. Suddenly, I’m the outsider, and maybe Brady was right. I should leave.

“Hey, Sadie,” Maura says. She walks up to me and puts her arm around my shoulders, bringing me into the group.

“How’s everything?” I ask, my voice shaky and unnerved by what I just witnessed.

“It will be just fine,” Maura assures me.

Brady continues looking at the ground while Kara has her arm hooked through his.

In all our time together, Brady has never made me feel so out of place. He has always assured people that he’s with me, but if a stranger walked into this room right now, they would think Kara was his girlfriend.

“Brady and I are going to stay for the night. We were thinking Grant could take you home,” Maura says, looking at me.

I think about how, just a few hours ago, she told me I should stay and not leave Brady’s side.

“Um…” I look at Brady, who continues to look anywhere but my direction. “All right,” I agree.

His eyes finally land on me. I glance at Kara’s arm and then back to his eyes, making sure he knows I see what’s happening. He quickly releases her arm, as though he didn’t know it was there, and he walks toward me.

“Can I talk to you first?” he asks.

“It’s fine, Brady. We should get going, Grant.” I look at Grant, who digs his keys out of his pocket. “I’m sorry.” I kiss Brady’s cheek.

“I’ll call you in a bit,” he says.

“Okay,” I respond before walking out the door.

When I get on the other side, the tears explode from my eyes, and I can’t keep them at bay. I brace myself against the wall to quickly try to swipe them away before Grant comes out.

I swore I was going to fight for Brady, but he just won’t let me. I thought Maura was on my side, but she was the one who suggested I leave. And here I am leaving, and that bitch, Kara, is still in there with my boyfriend.

“Ready?” Grant asks, relieving me from my thoughts.

“Sure,” I say as I start walking down the hall.

“It’s not you, Sadie; it’s just Brady. He can’t let people in.”

“Obviously not everyone,” I spit.

“Believe me…he doesn’t want her there either. It’s just that she won’t leave. I think he has just grown used to her being there since she has always weaseled her way in.”

The sliding doors open, and the cold air hits my face. The tears are now chilled against my cheeks.

I don’t know what to say, so I remain silent, but the tears keep cascading down my cheeks. Grant has been kind enough to ignore my sniffles. I instruct him to take me to the dorm instead of to Brady’s house.

The streets are dark and empty, void of any college students. Grant walks me to my door, and I thank him.

The whole ride over, he tried to give Brady the benefit of the doubt. I appreciate his attempt, but right now, I just need some time to myself.

Jessa is asleep when I enter the room, so I tiptoe into my bed. No need to change into pajamas since I’m already wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. The smell of Brady, embedded into his shirt, fills my nostrils as I lie in bed, awake.

I check my phone.

Nothing.

I replay everything that’s happened throughout the last few weeks.

The longer I lie there, the further away I feel from Brady. I put my earbuds in, listening to The Invisibles from the album he put on there for me. The slow songs that I thought were about a special girl in his life who broke his heart start playing. They all hold the common theme of someone being lost, alone, and walking away.

I bolt up in bed, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. Rushing down my steps of the loft, I throw my shoes back on. Jessa’s keys are sitting on the dresser, so I jot down a quick note and grab them.