Falling - 𝒥𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃𝑜

Chapter 33: Finding Her

Jess' POV

Once I find a way to bring Madelaine upstairs, I open the door realising Luke can't help me right now. He is in New York.

I lay her down on the couch, wondering what has happened that she looks like this. She feels cold from laying in the grass. Luckily I have seen her from my bedroom window. These nights in March could kill someone.

When I walk over to my wardrobe she tries to sit up straight, slowly understanding what is going on. I take a sweater from mine, and hand it to her but she doesn't take it.

'You are soaked', I remind her but she shakes her head. 'Just wear it', I sigh and throw it next to her on the couch. We haven't talked since Rory and I started dating, but after seeing her on New Years' Eve with that monkey I'm sure she doesn't mind.

She has made her point. There is no chance for us at all. These thoughts have been rambling in my mind for a while now, and sometimes I'm scared that I have made a mistake. I love hanging out with Rory, although her suspicious behaviour is something to work on.

It seems like she is still searching for Dean everywhere we go, most of the times she doesn't even want to kiss in public, afraid he might get hurt. I am dumb for believing she actually loves me, but I don't want to give her up. Not yet.

Without realising, Madelaine walks back out of the bathroom, wearing my sweater all of a sudden. Her soaked clothes in her hands. It's way too big for her and luckily for her covers her butt perfectly. She still looks as if she has seen a ghost.

'Where is Luke?' She asks barely hearable. I keep staring at her, memories of the nights she used to wear my clothes overtaking my mind.

'He is in New York', I mumble confused. She nods a little and walks over to the window, the rain has disappeared and now snow is falling all of a sudden. She touches the glass softly, dreaming away in whatever is bothering her.

I have to talk to her, do something else to get my mind out of our memories. I just should've left her in the grass. No, I could never have done that.

'You can take my bed, I'll take the couch', I suggest when I take a few blankets out of Luke's closet. 'I'm not staying', she says louder this time, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. I lay the blankets on my bed, knowing I should try to talk to her.

It must be a miracle she still talks to me after what I have done to her. Telling Luke about her living alone, the constant fights. It must be exhausting, I must be exhausting.

'What happened?' I ask and take a seat next to her on the small couch, her blue eyes blurry, the skin around them a little red. For a minute she doesn't say anything, and I decide not to push her. I have done that enough.

'My mother is sick', she whispers and a tear rolls down her face. 'I don't think they can help her', she adds weakly. All I want is to take her in my arms, making her feel safe as she used to feel around me. I know I can't do that now, it would only mess her up even more.

'I'm sorry', I whisper and lay my hand on the cold skin of her leg but she pulls herself away quickly. 'Do you even care?' She asks and stands up, trying to find another place to sit but unfortunately, this apartment is rather small.

I stand up also, getting a little angry with her. I only try to help, but I can see why she would think that. I get a hand through my hair, looking at her confused gaze.

'Of course I care. Do you honestly believe that I forgot everything we went through together?' My voice gets louder with every word and I can see her shrink a little.

'Madelaine ... All the bullying, all the comments and assumptions people made about us, that is something we got through together. I haven't forgotten how we used to escape those nights, how we used to laugh. But that was three years ago and I don't believe you still like me, I've changed, we all did'.

More tears run down her eyes when I tell her this, knowing that I must be right about most things. We all have changed, maybe if I hadn't made the mistake to not write her back we would still be happy. But that is something we can't know.

'I know that I loved you', she says loud. Her eyes widening a little before she turns around and leans her head against her hands. I can feel how desperate we both are. 'Maybe you are right, maybe we have changed. Jess, you are with Rory, and if you are happy than I am', she finally answers.

She sits down on my bed and I follow her, taking the phone with me. 'You are staying here tonight. Call Lydia that she knows you are fine', I hand her the phone and she keeps staring at it.

'My father is back home'. I sigh, dialling the number myself. 'I'll handle this', I assure her. Only five minutes later when I have answered all Lydia's questions, Madelaine lays asleep in my bed. I take another blanket to lay on top of her, her breathing slow.

How did we screw up everything we had?