Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 46

[Maddie’s POV]

Sunday arrives with all the enthusiasm of a dental appointment—fitting, considering tomorrow I’m getting my ankle surgically reconstructed.

Emily’s waiting outside when my parents’ car pulls up. “I can carry that,” Emily says, reaching for my duffel.

“I’ve got it. I mean, I had it. This is just a temporary setback in my bag-carrying abilities.”

My mom swoops in. “How about I take that before you end up back in the emergency room? Save your energy for tomorrow when they’re cutting into your ankle.”

“Really selling the whole surgical experience, Mom. Should I be taking notes?” I surrender the bag.

The elevator ride turns awkward. My dad makes weather observations while my mother interrogates Emily about her schedule.

Emily handles it like she’s being cross-examined but isn’t sure what the charges are.

Inside our dorm, my parents start fussing. Emily helps without being asked, and we navigate around each other, careful not to touch.

“The surgery is scheduled for seven AM,” my mom says. “About three hours. Recovery time is six to eight months minimum, and that’s if everything goes perfectly, which, you know, fingers crossed.”

“We know, Mom. I’ve heard this timeline so many times I could probably perform the surgery myself at this point. Not that I’m offering—that would be weird and also illegal.”

“Physical therapy starts in about two weeks,” my dad adds. “Emily, I know this is a lot to ask, but can you help Maddie get to appointments? We’re three hours away and with our work schedules—”

“Of course I can help. Whatever she needs,” Emily cuts in. “I’ll drive her, help with exercises, make sure she actually follows the protocol instead of trying to skip steps because she’s impatient. Which, let’s be honest, is definitely going to happen. You don’t have to worry about logistics—I’ve got that covered.”

Mom’s eyes are wet. “Will you keep an eye on her? Make sure she’s eating actual meals instead of microwaved disasters? Help her get to classes? Call us if anything seems wrong or if she’s pushing herself too hard, which she will definitely do?”

She takes a deep steadying breath that doesn’t help. “I know I’m being overbearing, but I won’t be here, and I just really need to know someone’s watching out for her.”

“I promise I’ll take care of her. She won’t be alone through any of this,” Emily says. “I’ll make sure she eats. I’ll call you if anything’s wrong. You don’t need to worry about that part.”

My dad clears his throat. “Emily, Maddie mentioned an incident with one of the hockey players harassing you? We’d like to know more if you’re comfortable sharing.”

“Derek Hastings cornered me in a parking lot after practice,” Emily says flatly. “He said some things that crossed several lines. It wasn’t great, but I handled it.”

“I told them after you called me that night. About Derek waiting by your car, about what he said. They deserved to know.”

“If Derek or his teammates bother either of you again—and I mean at all—I want to know immediately,” my dad says, expression hardening. “I’m not joking about getting administration involved. This kind of harassment isn’t acceptable, period. These boys need consequences.”

“Dad, it’s fine, really. We’re handling it,” I start.

“It’s not fine, Madison.” He shakes his head. “We heard about what happened at Regionals—the bullying, the sabotage. We should have been paying closer attention. We know you like to handle things yourself, but sometimes you need backup.”

He turns to Emily. “Both of you need to promise you’ll reach out if there are more problems. No trying to handle everything alone. No downplaying. If something happens, we want to know.”

“We will. Thank you for caring about both of us,” Emily says quietly. More fussing follows. Finally they leave. My mom hugs me tight. My dad reminds Emily one more time—any problems, call.

The door closes with a soft click. We stand there like two people who’ve completely forgotten how normal human interaction works.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For what I said at the hospital. I was drugged and scared and I lashed out when you were the only person who—” I cut myself off.

“Maddie, we’ve talked about this. Multiple times.” Emily sits on her bed. “We’ve moved past it. You were drugged and terrified. I’m not holding it against you. I promise I’m not secretly harboring resentment.”

“Fucking dykes hiding!”

Emily lunges for the deadbolt, slamming it home. The doorknob rattles violently—someone testing it, trying to force it open. Her hands shake as she dials campus security while I grab my phone and start recording.

“This is Emily Harper in Bancroft Hall, room 317. Multiple male students harassing us outside our door. They’re trying the handle. I can identify Derek Hastings—”

The pounding gets louder. Something heavy hits the door—a shoulder, maybe. The whole frame shakes.

“Everyone knows what you are!”

“Should’ve stayed home where you belong!”

More voices join in—at least three, maybe four. They’re feeding off each other, getting bolder. Emily’s voice stays steady somehow, giving details to the dispatcher. I keep recording, capturing every slur, every threat, my breathing harsh in the silence between their shouts.

The minutes stretch impossibly long. Each second feels like the one where the door might give.

Finally—finally—heavy footsteps approach. Authority in the sound. “Campus security! Step away from the door!”

The screaming cuts off. Scrambling, retreating footsteps. Emily unlocks the door with trembling fingers. The officers take statements, collect my video, their faces grim.

After they leave, we sit on her bed, both shaken. “I don’t feel safe here anymore,” I say.

“Stay with me tonight. Away from the door.” I nod, helpless. We lie down in Emily’s narrow bed, my back against her chest, her arm around me. Neither of us sleeps. We just hold each other in the dark, listening for footsteps, counting hours until surgery, trying to remember how to breathe normally again.