Bully stepbrother

54. The severity of trauma

MADISON

Rejection really does hurt, like they say, but my pain isn't only from Caden turning me down.

If I had a witness, they'd probably tell me to sit with that rejection. They'd say Caden's reaction to me telling him I love him will tell me whether Caden deserves my relentless loyalty. But a witness wouldn't know the whole picture. Maybe it's an inherited fatal flaw I got from my mom, but empathy has always been our downfall. And if you're me, there's no way you live in a house with Caden for four years, even through all his topsy-turviness, and don't want to help him.

He has to be worth it, everyone deserves some love. I tell myself if I major in psychology, maybe I can help him, maybe I can prove his behavior comes from a broken foundation. It has to, because what else could possess a man to be what Caden normally is?

Maybe I'm too inexperienced to understand the difference between good and evil, but the boy who barely has two scoops of food on the table before he and his father clash and he goes to bed hungry in his own home every night couldn't have been born evil. Something had to have gone wrong somewhere.

My classes for the day are over, and I'm at a campus café grabbing an iced coffee, with my phone in hand, mentally debating whether to call Dad while I wait for my order at the counter. I have a lot of questions, but even just knowing why he and Caden never get along would be enough. Maybe I could get one answer that will explain why someone would treat love like it's the enemy, when even Hades has Persephone.

That look on Caden's face outside the doctor's office keeps haunting me. I'm not a coward like him. I'm not taking back my love when every part of me cares for him. It's just a tragedy to love someone so self-absorbed. It feels like Harley Quinn with the Joker. The thought makes me swallow the thick lump in my throat, and I look up just in time for my coffee to arrive.

I take it. "Thank you," I tell the girl behind the counter, then turn to leave, but come face-to-face with Paxton, walking in with a girl around his arm like she's a trophy. She's probably the girl Caden said he's committing to. I don't even bother to really look at her. My gaze is fixed on the jerk with the smug grin.

"Mad?" he smirks, and my eyes roll so hard it almost hurts.

"Don't even start," I warn him.

"My bad, Madison. I'm not going another round with Caden," he chuckles, lifting his hands like he's surrendering, one arm still draped casually over the girl's shoulders. She sighs and offers to place their order, as if just hearing Caden's name is enough to make her disappear, like he's Voldemort.

I don't blame her. I should feel that way about Caden. Somehow, I'm not that strong.

I chew the inside of my cheek, caving in to the urge to ask if he's seen Caden, cause he didn't come home last night, when Paxton's smile fades into something almost concerned.

"He cares about you," he says quietly, "More than I've ever seen anyone care for a person." His voice is sincere, like he knows I'm desperate for something hopeful to keep me going.

I shake my head, scoffing. "The only person Caden cares about is himself." That, I'm sure of.

A shadow passes through Paxton's eyes, something like sympathy, strangely out of place on his face. It makes me feel small for some reason. Then the bell over the door rings, slicing through the moment, and my eyes swing toward the entrance, and stay there.

Caden walks in, hands shoved in his pockets, moving as though he lives in his own superior world where he's king. Then his eyes land on me, and his whole face tightens.

His gaze barely lingers. He lifts his chin, squares his shoulders, and heads for the counter like I'm invisible.

"Madison?" Paxton asks softly, because he saw everything. He tries to make excuses for his asshole friend, but I've known Caden way longer. There's nothing Paxton can tell me about him that I don't already know.