Chapter 52 My Breaking Point
Malia's POV
The silence when they leave makes my ears ring.
I’m standing in the center of Rowan’s demolished room, with shattered glass and scattered books at my feet and the smell of violence hanging in the air, and some part of me just… snaps.
"Come on."Cian's hand is gentle on my elbow. "Let's get you out of here."
I let him take me back to my room--Aiden's room, technically--but then I just can't make myself go in. It all smells of him. The clothes in the closet, the sheets on the bed, even the air itself is imbued with Aiden’s.
My chest tightens up so much I can't breathe.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t stay here.”
Cian holds me dead in his grey eyes for a moment, those grey eyes looking far too much for comfort. "Where do you want to go?"
"July's dorm." But I can’t stop and think. "I need… I need space. I need to think."
He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t try to persuade me to stay. He just nods and helps me throw some essentials into a bag—some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, my phone charger.
Not the fancy clothes Aiden got me. Not the bling. Just my old stuff, the stuff that feels like mine.
It's a surreal walk across campus. It's after midnight, the grounds are empty and quiet, but I feel exposed anyway. Like everyone can see the mess I’ve become, the chaos I’ve wrought.
"They'll calm down," Cian says under his breath as we make our way toward July's dorm building. “Let them cool off and they’ll be rational again.”
"Will they?" I don’t look at him. “Because all I see is this getting worse and worse.”
He doesn’t have an answer for that.
We get to July’s door, and I’m trying to get up the nerve to knock when suddenly the door from the inside opens, I bet she has already draw my scent even from the entrance.
July stands there in pajamas, eyes wide with disbelief. "Malia? What—" Then she sees my face, sees Cian, sees the bag in my hand. "Oh. Oh, honey, come here."
She pulls me in, and that’s when I finally let myself cry. Really cry, not the silent tears from earlier, but gasps and sobs that rattle my whole body.
“I’ve got her,” July says to Cian over my shoulder.
He hesitates. "Tell her... tell her I’m sorry. For all of us.”
Then he’s gone, and July is leading me into the house, shutting the door in the Moonfall brothers’ faces, and all that has been ripping me apart.
July's dorm isn't anything like the dorm I moved in with Aiden. It’s large and lovely, adorned with tasteful paintings and ambient lighting that gives the whole place a warm, cozy feel. Plush furniture, meticulously placed plants, floors that truly gleam—it’s the sort of place that shouts comfort and attentiveness.
“Let me text Freddy,” July says, as she guides me onto her unbelievably comfortable couch. "He’ll want to know you’re here."
I nod, my words caught in my throat as I just absorb the comfort. In fifteen minutes later, there's another knock at the door. July opens it to Freddy in flannel pajama pants and an old band t-shirt, his hair disheveled as ever.
“Emergency girl talk?” he asks, yet he looks as if he’s not joking when he sees my tear-streaked face.
"Emergency friend talk," July amends, ushering him inside.
They position themselves on either side of me on the couch, July is already wrapping a soft throw blanket around my shoulders as Freddy disappears into the kitchen. He comes back a couple of minutes later holding three mugs of chamomile tea.
"Tell us everything," July says softly as she takes my hand.
So I do. I tell them about Rowan’s greenhouse, about the fairy lights and the dancing and his confession. About coming back to find Aiden furious, about the fight, about the violence and the blood and the way they looked at each other like strangers and not brothers.
"And the worst part," I finish, my voice hoarse from tears, "is that I know it's my fault. I could just decide if I could just choose, if I could just figure out what I want, none of this would be happening…”
“Wrong," Freddy says plainly.
I blink at him.
He insists it is. “You’re not making them fight. They’re fighting of their own free will. They could just as easily choose to, I don’t know, talk to each other like grown-ups. Work something out. ‘But they’re running around like you’re real estate.’”
“The bond—”
“Screw the bond.” July's voice is firm. “Even with a bond, they have free will. They’re opting for violence, rather than communication,” she explained. That’s not you.”
I want to believe them. I want it so badly.
“But I’m leading them on,” I whisper. “What if I should just pick Aiden and be done with this? He was here first, he’s the one we have the strongest connection with…”
“Do you want to pick Aiden?” July asks quietly.
I open my mouth to say yes, but the word won’t come.
Because I see Rowan’s face in the greenhouse whenever I think about that I’m supposed to choose Aiden. I feel the way the bond pulled me to him is as powerful as the one pulling me toward, Aiden. I remember Cian’s hands on my skin, the way he looks at me, how he sees all my walls.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know what I want anymore. It’s all really confused, what I feel, what they feel, what the bond wants. I can’t tell where I end and it begins.”
Freddy and July exchange a look.
“Then maybe,” July says carefully, “you should figure that out. Away from them. Away from the bond that tugs at your insides all the time. You just you wanted to know what Malia wanted."
"That's why I came here." I pull the blanket tighter. “I just … I need to breathe. I want to think without smelling Aiden’s scent in the air, or because Rowan is gazing at me as if I’m the moon, or since Cian is dissecting every single thing I do.”
“So stay,” July says simply. “Stay as long as you want. Well my dorm mate requested for her own private dorm so it’s just me. You're welcome here, Malia. Anytime, anyday."
"Really?"
July squeezes my hand. “You’re our friend first, before you’re anyone’s mate or bond or whatever. Our friend needs her girl right now. And Freddy.”
“Hey, I’m one of the girls when it counts,” Freddy protests, but he's smiling softly.
"Speaking of which," he says as he stands to stretch, "July, you got extra pillows? I’m spending the night. No way am I leaving you two alone to spiral into emotional chaos, you need my supervision.”
July rolls her eyes but she's smiling. "Linen closet, top shelf. You know where every thing is,”
"You're staying?" I ask Freddy, grateful
“Someone has to make sure you get to sleep, instead of thinking yourself into a frenzy every night until the sun comes up. Besides, July’s couch is a hell of a lot comfier than mine.”
—-----
I doze off that night in July's bed, with lavender-scented soft sheets and the muted voices of July and Freddy whispering in the living room. No rich silk, no masculine scent, no bond buzzing incessantly in my lungs.
It’s just me, and the friends who have decided to be here.
It ought to be a peaceful feeling. Rather,It felt …hallow.