A/N: So, haaay. It feels so weird to post again, I'm actually nervous. It's like I have to introduce myself all over again. Anyway, I hope you guys are still out there and haven't lost interest in this story.

It's been way too long, I know. I'm not even going to bother you with all my shit. I just hope that this chapter is okay. I'm still a bit rusty, but we're getting there.

Here you go. X Milou.

Fifty-one: Hello, it's me.

"Don't sleep too long, dear. It'll only make your jetlag worse," Grace calls after me as I make my way up the stairs, my suitcase trailing behind me, bumping against the steps.

"I won't," I mumble, not finding any more energy to look back while I answer her. I've spent all of it while talking to her and Carrick about the trip.

As expected, Carrick and Grace wanted to know everything about Amsterdam. They were genuinely interested in how my days in Europe were, and to my surprise, they only asked about the incident with Rodriguez after I'd told them all about the other things that I'd done.

Carrick and I talked a good fifteen minutes about Vermeer's paintings. I could tell he envies me for actually seeing some of his work up close. Grace, on the other hand, wanted to know all about the historical buildings and canals that I had seen.

I've showed them all the pictures I took and told them all about the excursions. And for a moment, I actually forgot about the emotional rollercoaster that Amsterdam had actually been. For just a moment, it felt like I was just a normal student on a normal trip with his classmates.

Only when I was completely done elaborating, they asked me about the incident with Rodriguez. And that took me right back to the whole fucked up situation that is called my life.

While I tried to hide my emotions as best as I could, I told them exactly what happened on that street in Amsterdam. I told them how Rodriguez' hands were all over my math teacher, while she clearly didn't appreciate that. I told them how I wanted to help her, leaving the real reason for my protective behavior out of it. I told them how he punched me, and how I wanted nothing more than return the favor. And at last, I told them how I didn't give him what he deserved, because I knew it would've made things even more complicated.

They told me how proud they were because of that decision, and both of them reassured me that they are on my side completely.

If they only knew how complicated we're actually talking, I'm sure their reaction would've been the complete opposite.

As I walk into my bedroom, I dump my suitcase in the corner with the intention to unpack later. During the flight, I couldn't seem to find sleep, and although I doubt that I'll be able to find it in bed, the drum in my head is forcing me to try.

I close the curtains and strip down to my boxers before crawling in. As my head hits the pillow I try with everything in me to not let my thoughts drift to everything that has happened, but the moment my eyes close, all I see is her.

Her, and how lost she looked at the beginning of the trip, even though the tried to put on her strong face. Her, looking at the milkmaid, lost in the milk stream that seems to run while her soft voice spoke to me.

Her, her eyes watered, and her cheeks and nose red because of the crying after she'd heard the song that brought her back to the death of her father. Her, wrapped around me in every sense of the word, her wet body finally consuming me after missing her for what feels like years.

And finally, her and how she must feel now that the whole population of Washington State can read about her fucking so-called husband and how he died in a BDSM club.

When she left abruptly that night, we students were informed by Lopez that Mrs. Davies had to leave due to an urgent family matter. He didn't elaborate any further, and if it wasn't for Kavanagh's expression when she returned to the dining area a good hour after she had left with Ana, I wouldn't have thought the worst. But Kavanagh was pale, and when her eyes met mine for just a second, I swore that she shook her head as if to say that it was bad. Very bad.

Up until that moment, I'd never felt more powerless. I couldn't walk up to them and ask them what was going on since that would've drawn way too much attention, especially after what had happened just hours before. Not to mention that I had a clingy Leila in my lap because I fucking promised Ana to act as if my protectiveness towards my teacher was solely an excuse to finally get back at Rodriguez and I'm actually still interested in that slut.

Thank fuck for Leila's desperate ass. She almost didn't ask any questions when John and I came back and I pulled her on my lap. She tried to act tough, but failed miserably when I placed my mouth against her ear and told her that Sara wasn't as good as her. I swear all the hairs in my neck stood and I had to swallow away the disgust, but I did it. For her. Ana. Because she'd told me that she'd come to me when she is ready.

But the real point over feeling utterly and completely powerless came as soon as the plane touched ground at Sea-Tac. The moment I turned on my phone, a notification popped up. It was an alert for an article about how Colton Davies had died at age twenty-eight.

The headline itself did not reveal much, and I even admit that somewhere deep down, I did a fist pump because I foolishly thought that things between Ana and myself would be easier now that he was gone. But then I opened the article and discovered just how he actually died.

That son of a bitch.

While walking out of the plane, I texted Ana. I even called her once, but got her voicemail right away. I didn't talk to anyone while waiting for my suitcase, didn't participate in any of the conversations my classmates had about the exact same article that blew everything up. All I wanted was to talk to Ana.

But she didn't reply. She still hasn't replied and it makes me feel restless as fuck.

I turn to my side and once again grab my phone. It has been three hours since I landed and I can see that she still hasn't read my texts. I know she has a lot going on right now but it still pisses me off.

Why the fuck is it so hard for her to just send a text back? At this point I'd be happy with a 'can't talk, text later' message. After everything that we've shared with each other, I at least expected that.

I toss my phone on the nightstand and take a deep breath, willing myself to not let the anger against her lack of response take the upper hand. I have to be rational here. She's just lost her husband, she got publically humiliated and she's probably dealing with police, press, and although I don't want to admit it, grief. I should give her time, and trust that she'll come to me when she needs me.

Just as I squeeze my eyes shut, the buzzing sound of my phone fills my silent bedroom. Without opening my eyes I reach for the phone, expecting it to be John or Dave or even Leila. But when I look at the caller id, I find the number that I know by heart.

I haven't saved her in my contacts for obvious reasons, but the numbers are scarfed in my memory. It's her.

For a moment my thumb hesitantly hangs above the green button, suddenly not sure what to actually say to her once I answer the call. I desperately wanted to speak to her just moments ago, but now that it's about to happen I have this feeling that it can't be good. Fucking feelings.

I take a deep breath as I sit up before I finally push my thumb on the screen, ending the vibrations before putting the device against my ear.

"Ana."

Her response is a heavy sob followed by a deep breath, and my heart clenches. I stay silent as I listen to how she tries to get her breathing under control. I have no idea what to say. I need her to talk to me first.

"Hi," she whispers after what feels like minutes, but in reality is about thirty seconds. "I'm sorry I didn't respond. It's been chaos."

I nod my head. "That's okay. You're calling now."

"Yeah," she hums before she takes a pause. "Have you seen it?" Her voice is shaky and even though she tries to hide it, I can tell she is actually scared for my answer. Because of it, I for a second debate to tell her I haven't. But then I realize it'll only make it harder for her, because she'll have to tell me herself.

"I have. Is it true?"

"It is," she confirms, sobs still audible even though they're not as persistent as before. "He died in Club Calor while he was bound to the ceiling and in the middle of a scene with some guy."

My eyes widen and I'm about to ask her if I heard her correctly, but she beats me to it. "A guy, yes. A fucking man. He was fucking a guy, Christian." Even though I can hear the anger and hurt in her voice, the sentence comes out in a low chuckle.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble.

"Yeah," she agrees. "And I thought he only cheated on me with women. How pathetic is that?" Again she chuckles, this time sounding a little more hysterical than the first time. "And that's not even the worst."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I think it's best to let her just talk. She needs to get it all out, and frankly, I have no fucking clue what to say to her.

"I went to see him this morning in the morgue. They've done a section on his body to determine the cause of his death. Apparently, he had a tumor in his head. He was dying and he knew it, yet he didn't feel the need to tell his wife. He knew he was going to die, and he clearly lived the best last few months of his life." She's now hysterically laughing.

"Ana, are you alone?" I ask, not sure how to respond to her outbreak. I have no idea how to deal with this. She is clearly an emotional mess.

She ignores my question and just rattles on. "And then to think that I was actually so afraid that me or Luke had killed him. Can you believe that?"

Now I'm fucking confused. What the hell is she talking about?

"Ana, calm down for a sec," I say, my voice a little harder. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Finally, she takes a deep breath and the laughter dies. Once she's calmed down a bit, she starts again. "My brother Luke was in Club Calor when it happened. Don't ask why, that's a story for another time, but he saw Colton hang there. All the symptoms Luke saw, pointed to damage in the brain, and since I hit him with that bottle that night and Luke had punched him too, we thought the worst."

"Right," I mumble, trying to process everything that she is telling me. How the hell did all this happen in just a day? "But that's not the case, so you need to let that go."

She doesn't respond to that and when it takes too long for her to answer, I pipe up again. "You still there?"

"Yeah," she whispers. "But I can't let it go."

"Why not?"

She sighs, and if I'm not mistaken, she is also crying again. "Because we had to think about all the possibilities, I realized that if that blow on his head had something to do with his death, the police would come for me and ask me about that night again. And I was so scared Christian. I didn't know what to do, so I ended up telling Taylor and Luke about how you helped me that night. And of course, they asked more questions about why I couldn't just tell the police I was with you and now they know." She rushes the last part out so fast, that I almost don't catch it.

"They know?" I repeat, more to myself than to her.

"They know. And they are livid and afraid that you're going to say something to anyone. I tried to explain that you wouldn't do that, but I can't get through them, and now they want you to come here and talk to them. Fuck, I'm so sorry for dragging you into this mess," she finishes, still in her rushed, almost panicked tone.

"I'll come over," I say without thinking, shocking the hell out of both of us. Seriously, I have no idea why I'm saying it. The only thing I do know is that she's just given me the green light to come for her, and that's literally all I've wanted since she rushed out of that dining hall.

"Christian, you have no idea what you're say-," she argues, but now I'm the one that cuts her off.

"Ana, I don't care. They want to talk to me, and I honestly have nothing to hide. If we are really doing this, you and me, then I'll have to meet them eventually, right? I love you and right now, I feel like you need me. So I'll come. I'm not afraid of your brothers, Ana."

"You should be," she mumbles. "I've never seen Taylor this pissed. I have no idea what he'll say once you're here."

I know I should be scared. I don't know much about her brothers, but I can tell they are protective over her. As they should really. I imagine it's kind of the same feeling I have with Mia. But the more I think about it, the more determined I get. Maybe it's sick, but I'm actually relieved to some extent.

I take a deep breath to settle my thoughts and lean my head a little more against the phone. "I love you, Ana, and I'm not afraid of telling your brothers exactly that."

She sighs again, this time in defeat. "You're really a cocky asshole, you know that?"

At that, I chuckle. "I know. But that's why I got your attention in the first place."

"Are you sure? There is no turning back after this," she reminds me, and for the first time since she called me, she actually sounds like my Ana. The Ana that I can't get out of my head since the moment I saw her in that robe. Fierce and confident Ana. I don't know what it is, it's just the way her tone matches my thoughts about her.

"I'm sure."

"What will you tell your aunt and uncle?"

I hadn't thought about them at all up until this point which proves how much my thoughts are with Ana. "Nothing. I doubt your brothers will call them, so I'll just tell them I'm at a friend. Don't worry about that."

"You know that it'll only be a matter of time before we have to tell them as well. God, only thinking about it makes me sick. They will hate me."

I once again don't know how to respond to that, because I know that she is right. Of course, Carrick and Grace will hate the fact that I'm fucking my math teacher. They will hate it for so many more reasons than Ana thinks. But I can't consume my thoughts with that right now. So I tell her, "don't worry about that for now. We need to get out of this shit first."

"We?" She hopefully asks after a short pause.

"We," I confirm, meaning it wholeheartedly and earning a soft sigh of relief from Ana. "Now, tell your brothers I'll be there in thirty."