Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 52

[Maddie’s POV]

Morning comes with harsh sunlight that cuts through our window. I barely slept—every sound made my heart race, convinced someone was coming. My body’s exhausted but my mind won’t stop spinning, replaying Emily’s confession, wondering who was listening, what they’ll do with the information.

Emily’s already awake when I open my eyes, sitting at her desk staring at her phone. Her shoulders are rigid, jaw tight. I shift on my bed and she glances over, expression hollow with fatigue.

“Anything?” My voice comes out rough from not sleeping, throat tight with the question I’ve been holding all night.

“No messages. No calls. Nothing.” She sets her phone down with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “The waiting is somehow worse than knowing.”

I push myself up, wincing as my ankle protests. The boot sits on the floor beside my bed, a reminder of everything I’ve lost and everything I still stand to lose. “Maybe they won’t say anything. Maybe they’ll just—”

“Maybe.” Emily cuts me off, standing abruptly. “Or maybe they’re just waiting for the right moment.” She starts pulling clothes from her dresser, movements jerky with tension.

We get ready in tense silence. I keep stealing glances at Emily, at the way she avoids looking at me. The confession she made last night sits between us like a third person in the room.

“Physical therapy at nine,” I say, checking the time on my phone. No new notifications. No anonymous messages revealing our secret. Just the same empty screen I’ve been staring at all night.

“I’ll take you.” Emily grabs her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder.

“You have class. I can manage.” I try to keep my voice steady, but we both know I’m barely holding it together.

“I’m taking you.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, firm but gentle. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

The walk across campus feels like a gauntlet. I’m hyperaware of every look, every whisper. Are those girls staring at us? Does that guy know something? I can’t tell if I’m paranoid or if word has already spread.

“You okay?” Emily asks quietly as we cross near the library, her hand hovering near my elbow like she wants to steady me but doesn’t dare touch.

“Fine.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Just tired.” Because what’s the alternative—telling her I feel like I’m walking through a nightmare where everyone can see right through me?

At the physical therapy center, I go through the exercises mechanically. Stretch, flex, rotate. My therapist—Dr. Walker—keeps frowning at my form. Each movement feels disconnected, like I’m operating on autopilot while my mind is elsewhere.

“Your range of motion is worse today.” She guides my ankle through the stretch again, and I bite my tongue against the pain. “Are you okay, Maddie? You seem distracted.”

“Just tired,” I repeat, because what else can I say? I didn’t sleep because someone overheard my roommate confessing she’s in love with me and now we’re waiting to see if our lives implode?

Dr. Walker studies me for a moment longer before nodding. “Make sure you’re getting enough rest. Your body needs it to heal properly.”

After therapy, Emily’s waiting in the lobby, scrolling through her phone with that same tense focus. She stands when she sees me, shoving the phone in her pocket like she’s been caught doing something wrong. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” I adjust my crutches, the familiar weight of them grounding me slightly. We head back outside into the cold air, neither of us speaking.

We’re crossing the quad when Ava appears, jogging to catch up with us. My stomach drops. Was it Ava outside our door last night? Did she hear everything?

But Ava’s face shows only concern as she reaches us, slightly breathless. “Hey! Are you guys okay? I’ve been texting all morning.”

“Why?” Emily’s voice comes out sharper than I think she intended, defensive and raw.

The silence stretches, brittle and threatening. Then Emily says, her voice careful but determined: “We need to talk about what I said. During the fight.”

My whole body tenses. Every muscle locks up, bracing for impact. “Now’s not the time.” The words come out clipped, desperate.

“When will be the time?” Her voice rises, frustration bleeding through. “After everyone knows? After we’re forced out? When, Maddie?”

“I don’t know, okay?” I sit up, the movement making my ankle throb. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready to have that conversation.”

“Will you ever be ready?” The question hangs between us, heavy with all the things we haven’t said, all the truths we’ve been avoiding.

Before I can answer—before I have to answer—my phone rings. Unknown number. My hand shakes as I reach for it, and Emily’s eyes go wide with fear. We stare at each other for a heartbeat before I swipe to answer, putting it on speaker with trembling fingers.

“Hello?” The word barely makes it past my lips.

“Is this Madison Reyes?” A voice I don’t recognize—male, maybe college-aged, uncertain in a way that somehow makes this worse.

“Yes.” I can barely hear myself over the pounding of my heart, over the rushing in my ears. “Who is this?” My free hand grips the edge of my bed, knuckles white.

A pause that stretches too long. Then: “I need to talk to you about what I heard outside your room last night.”