My Bruised Heart

MILES The house was on the nicer side of town, which meant three damn bus rides for me—my wallet reeling with every stop. It would’ve been two, but I had to pause and patch up my knees first. They’d busted open when I fell, and bloody knees aren’t exactly party accessories. Gauze patches looked ugly, but at least they were better than a face full of blood. I trudged from the bus stop, walking at least two miles to reach the mansion at the given address. An uneasy feeling gnawed at me as I approached the place—a sprawling mansion that could’ve easily been a fucking castle with its imposing brick wall. I couldn’t fathom how Kenzie managed to get into a party at a place like this. Hanging out with a bunch of rich pricks in an ancient 1800s home? That wasn’t my scene. I pulled out my phone to text Kenzie that there was absolutely no way I was attending this party. Maybe I could make it to the diner and work a shift. They were open 24 hours a day—so I could let Sandra go home to her

*WARNING DEPICTION OF PANIC ATTACK* MILES I stumbled through the mansion’s endless corridors, each step heavier than the last. My head was a battlefield of chaos, the torment different—inside me. I needed to be alone, so I tried every door until I found an empty bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against the cool tile. The room was vast and sterile—a temporary sanctuary from the judgment of the world outside. I forced myself toward the large mirror on a lone wall. My body trembled as I turned, expecting to see the latest map of bruises and splatters: large, vivid circles of purple, green, and red. And there they were, a cruel mosaic I’d tried so hard to hide. A gasp tore from my lips. Everyone had seen them—maybe even people from school. Panic surged, raw and familiar. I swallowed hard, trying desperately to muffle the rising terror. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to know I was weak. "Don't forget, Miles, you're nothing." My mother's

MILESMy eyes snapped open.A pounding headache greeted me, followed by the sharp sting of dehydration clawing at my throat. Light filtered through green-tinted windows, casting eerie shadows across the room and making my temples throb in protest.Heat.Soft puffs of air fanned across the top of my head, warm and steady.Wait.I stiffened.I fucking didn’t…Heart racing, I swallowed hard and slowly—ever so fucking slowly—lifted my head, dreading what I would see.The first thing I noticed was the broad chest beneath my palm, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. My fingers involuntarily traced along the hard muscle, then drifted upward, brushing over the sharp edge of a jawline dusted with light stubble.His eyebrows were perfect—dark, thick, and slightly furrowed even in sleep. His complexion was lighter than mine, kissed by the sun, his deep brown hair a tousled mess over the pillow.For a second—just a second—I was struck by how fucking beautiful he was.And then reality hit me lik

MILES Damn it. Dominic Black was still as handsome as he was yesterday, and seeing him now in crisp black slacks and a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, made my stomach twist with something I wasn’t willing to name. Worse, he was the spitting image of his father. Which meant my mother and I had the same fucking taste. I forced myself to focus on my plate, stabbing at my vegetables while my mind raced with panic. My mouth told me the food was buttery, smooth, practically melting on my tongue. My brain said it tasted like sandpaper. I had royally fucked up. He kept glancing at me. I could feel it. The weight of his stare burned into my skin, making me itch, making me want to shrink in my chair. He was probably wondering what the hell happened last night just as much as I was. But somehow, it felt like he was blaming me. Like I had orchestrated this whole thing. Like I wanted to wake up in the same bed as him, tangled in plants I

MILES “Hey Kenny, slow night so far?” I asked as I stepped into Momma Jay's 24-hour diner. The scent of butter and syrup wrapped around me, as familiar as my own skin. The jukebox hummed low, playing some old blues song in the corner. The place was half-empty—just a few late-night regulars hunched over coffee, stirring cream into their cups like the act alone would keep them awake. It should’ve felt normal. But something was wrong. Kenny was behind the counter, wiping down an already spotless surface. His chocolate-brown eyes flickered to me, then to the floor. He looked uncomfortable. He never looked uncomfortable. I froze. “Miles,” he said carefully, like he was picking each word out of thin air. “I didn’t think you’d be coming in tonight.” I blinked. “Why not? I called yesterday to pick up a late shift since I had that family dinner, remember?” He nodded, shifting from foot to foot. “Yeah… but I thought Momma Jay had told you.” Something crawled up my spine. “Tol