All Chapters of My Bruised Heart: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

DOM I was having a good day. I was. The morning was good. Practice was refreshing. Even class had been interesting. Everything was fine. Until I saw Miles sitting with that fuck-face from the other day, smiling and laughing like they were on a fucking date. My whole body locked up. Something sharp curled in my chest, something that made my stomach twist, my jaw tighten. She looked happy. Too happy. And it wasn’t because of me. I shouldn’t have been this pissed. I shouldn’t have cared this much. She wasn’t my girlfriend. She didn’t belong to me. She would never belong to me. Our parents were getting married soon. We’d all be a family. Eventually, I’d move on, find myself a nice, normal girlfriend. Maybe get married, have kids, grow the fuck up. And maybe Miles— No. No. I couldn’t even picture it. Couldn’t picture someone else touching her, making her laugh like that. It made my skin fucking crawl. I should have looked away. Should have just let

MILES "I'll go see what's wrong with him," I said, grabbing my bag and tray. "See you after practice, Marcy. Later, KenKen." I felt Kenny’s eyes on me as I walked away, felt Marcus’s knowing smirk burning into the back of my head. But I didn’t turn back. I dumped my tray and stepped outside, gulping in the crisp, fresh air. I needed it. There were too many eyes in that cafeteria. Too many whispers. And then there was Dominic. Storming off like that. I searched for him, scanning the crowd for his broad shoulders, his black shirt. Nothing. So I headed toward the field. The hallway leading there was quiet, the hum of campus life fading behind me. And that’s when it hit me. Why am I chasing after him? It wasn’t like we were anything real. It wasn’t like I should even care if he was upset. Except… Except I did care. And I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the way the thought of him shutting me out made my stomach knot. Because I wasn’t supposed to feel th

MILES His confessions made my skin blaze. Something deep inside my chest was unlocking, that painful pinch that made me breathless trying to consume me. He talked like he thought about me all day. Like he could imagine nothing more than to be buried inside me. The earnest tone in his voice had fear clawing its way up my throat, but the sensations of his movements made my mind go blank as I came. "Mine." I would have frozen up if I wasn't coming so hard against his bulge. I almost thought I was imagining things. I didn’t even have time to be embarrassed that all it took to get me off was a little dry humping. But I had heard it, and it was all that occupied my mind. I guess he hadn’t realized what he said since he didn’t stop his movements until my climax was over. "Mine." The word circled my brain even as he gently put me on my feet, kissing along my neck in sweet, soft pecks, holding me tight. Even as he cupped my cheeks in his hands to kiss me softly on the lips. "Mine."

MILES Marcus came to get me for dinner. I wasn’t hungry—not in the slightest—but I knew Maverick would be expecting me. He made it a personal mission to ensure I ate. If he noticed the way my mother looked at me in disdain, he didn’t let on. "Come on, Miles. The fight couldn’t have been that bad." Marcus walked beside me down the stairs. The fight? No, it wasn’t a fight at all. A fight I could handle. Yelling, anger, slamming doors—I could deal with all of that. But this? This was different. It was quiet. Unspoken. This was him making it clear. It was me realizing I cared too much. "It wasn’t," I finally answered. "We simply made our... situations clear." Marcus made a noise low in his throat, something close to a scoff, but I could hear the undertone of frustration. "What a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath. I didn’t ask who he meant. Then, softer—"Are you okay?" My first instinct was to say yes. That was always my answer. "I’m fine." Or maybe, "Yeah

MILES "You guys coming to The Cliffs this weekend? There's supposed to be a wicked storm coming through. A buddy of mine said the view is superb for a bonfire on the north end." "Won't the waves get too crazy? The north end is too close." "That's the thing. For some scientific reason, the waves don't touch the north end. It never has. My buddy says it's Branshire's tradition to bonfire during a storm. The parties are known to be epic." "Small town folks sure are creative... but I'll take the bait. Pick me up at eight." The Cliffs bonfire. That’s all Branshire University had been talking about. It was the kind of tradition that had been around long before any of us were even born, passed down like a ritual no one dared to question. I couldn’t count how many times I heard someone say “Shit always happens at The Cliffs.” Some said it with excitement, others with something else—something that didn’t sit right in my gut. I didn’t believe in superstitions. But still. There was somet