A huge thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate the support for each story. I'm going to give credit for this chapter to MusesOwnMyMind for talking all things Sam and Morgan with me and getting some new ideas and excitement sparked for this story. :) Also, LuvReading and ChrisW for your reviews. ChrisW- I agree, the girls are pretty terrible to their brothers right now! I promise there will be some fluff and gentler moments with them and their brothers at different points in the story.

Chapter 16

Morgan ventured downstairs to the kitchen. The house had been quiet earlier, but as night fell, it was slowly waking up. Vin's roommates were in the living room when she went through. Two of them didn't look away from the television, but the third looked over at her.

He ran his eyes over her appraisingly before taking a long draw on his beer and turning his attention back to the screen.

Morgan pretended his look didn't make her feel vulnerable. It was easy enough to pretend—she had been doing it for the last three months. Pretend she wasn't rattled. Pretend she didn't notice the way he looked at her. Pretend none of it mattered.

She made it to the kitchen and opened the fridge, finding the takeout Sam had stowed there. For a brief moment, Morgan wished Sam was still there. But then she was relieved she could just be alone, not have to explain anything to anyone, not have to try to look like she was holding things together.

She set one of the food cartons on the table and opened cabinets, looking for a glass.

"You need some help?"

Morgan startled, the glass she had pulled from the cabinet almost slipping from her fingers. She caught it before it could crash to the counter.

The guy smiled, amused at shaking her up.

"You're Vin's girl," he said, not really a question.

"Yeah," Morgan said. She turned away from him and filled her glass at the sink, keeping him in her periphery without making it obvious she was watching him.

"He leave you alone here?" the guy asked.

Morgan turned back to him, took a drink from the glass, trying to steady herself.

"He'll be home from work soon," she said, even though she didn't really know Vin's routine. She silently willed Vin to get home soon. Stopped herself before she wished she were at home with Buck.

The roommate grinned. He was older than Morgan. Mid twenties at least. And nothing like Vin with the easy reassurance Vin seemed able to give without trying. Everything about this guy made Morgan's skin crawl.

"Did you need something?" she asked bluntly, hoping bravado would make whatever game this guy was playing lose its appeal.

His grin stretched and he took a step closer to Morgan. She felt the sink against her low back, the walls of the room closing in as he took up her space.

"Hey."

Vin's quiet greeting carried through the room.

The roommate stopped his approach. Morgan set her glass in the sink with a clunk and brushed past him. At Vin's side, she found his hand, linked her fingers with his for the briefest moment, needing the physical reassurance that he was there, she wasn't alone. Then she withdrew her hand.

"I was getting some food," she said. "To eat upstairs." Anything to get out of that kitchen.

"I'll be up in a minute," Vin said, his voice still quiet, but his eyes steady on his roommate.

Morgan tried not to let her relief show and grabbed the take out box and her glass of water, stepping around Vin's roommate with wide clearance. She glanced back at Vin, but he wasn't looking at her. The look on his face as he faced his roommate gave her pause. There was a hard edge to him that she hadn't seen before.

She quickly turned away and hurried back upstairs. All she cared about was getting back to the relative safety of Vin's room.

She closed the door behind her and set the food on the floor next to the mattress on the floor. She lowered herself to the mattress and didn't touch the food, her appetite gone.

She fisted shaking hands and fought to get a deep enough breath.

She hated feeling cornered. Hated the memories it brought back.

She wanted to go home.

She pictured her room at Buck's house, thought of Buck's good humor and easy teasing. Buck always asking her how her day was. Buck's worried face and warming canned chicken soup when she was sick. Buck challenging her to a game of table tennis in the dining room when she didn't feel like talking.

Morgan couldn't tell Buck that she was pregnant. It would kill him. Especially if she told him how stupid she had been, going to that party, letting that guy get too close, what he had done to her—

Morgan pressed shaking hands against her eyes, trying to stop the thoughts that flooded her brain.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't hold it together. She couldn't breathe.

#

"What are you doing?" Vin asked. He eyed the oldest of his roommates. Rob was as tall as Vin, but broader shouldered. Vin didn't waver.

"Introducing myself to your girlfriend," Rob said, amusement clear as he took in Vin's carefully controlled anger.

"Wife," Vin said. Morgan was his wife. It felt weird to say. But also right. Like he had someone to belong with for the first time in his life.

"Your wife," Rob said, his amusement growing. "Wow, guess you're almost a real man now, huh, Vin?"

"Stay away from her," Vin said. The muscles in his shoulders bunched, ready for a fight. Whatever it took to keep Morgan safe.

"Hard to stay away from someone who's livin' in your house," Rob said.

Vin took a step toward Rob and the other man scoffed. "I ain't gonna do nothin' with your girl," he said. "Settle down."

Vin didn't believe him. He had been living with Rob and Rob's friends for six months and he didn't trust any of them farther than he could throw them. "If you go near her, you'll regret it," Vin said. He didn't need to raise his voice. He had learned that through all the foster homes he had been in. The homes where there was yelling were less of a threat than where a man lowered his voice to a deathly quiet pitch.

He caught the flash of nerves in Rob's eyes before the other man covered it. "Whatever, Tanner," he said.

Vin watched him go before he closed his eyes. He opened them again. He couldn't afford the luxury of regret. Regret that he had brought Morgan to his sorry excuse of a home. He had to keep his guard up and figure out a way to make this work.

He went upstairs, ignoring the verbal jabs coming from one of Rob's friends. Rob must have told them some version of what had happened in the kitchen. Every one of Vin's muscles coiled tightly, but he didn't look at any of them. He'd lived with worse. But he'd never had anyone he was responsible for before now.

He paused at the door to his room, tried to shove down any of the thoughts he had before they showed on his face. He opened the door and saw Morgan, sitting on the bed, fists clenched in her lap, food unopened and forgotten.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

She didn't answer. He watched her fight for control and finally win, turning to him, everything in her fighting for an expression that showed she didn't care.

"I'm fine," she said. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, but the movement was jerky.

Vin hesitated, then sat down on the mattress next to her.

"Sorry about that—about him." He wished he could say they would go somewhere else, but the only other option for a seventeen year old runaway from the foster care system was on the streets, and that would be even worse for Morgan.

"If you want to go home, go back to your brother, I understand," Vin said softly.

Morgan finally met his eyes. Her eyes were red. "I can't go back home." She shrugged like it didn't matter.

Vin didn't push. He knew enough of what had happened to her, what she was hiding from her brother, that he understood. And he had committed to being with her.

Morgan pulled back the blankets and laid down, tugging the blankets up over stiff shoulders.

Vin didn't know what he was supposed to do to help her, so he just stayed next to her.

#

"Better?"

Sam debated ducking back into the bathroom. But, really, what did she have to be embarrassed about? Ezra had been at her back in a bar fight, stolen a car with her and Morgan, seen her in nothing but a towel in the motel, and faced her brother when he found them in the motel together. Getting sick in Ezra's bathroom after a few shots of brandy was the least of what he had seen from her.

"Yeah," she lied.

Ezra's expression said he knew she was lying, but Sam appreciated that he pretended to believe her.

"Can I get you something?" he asked. "A ride home?"

The thought of going home to Chris made Sam want to be sick again. She was clearly letting Chris down, Morgan was gone, and Buck didn't have any sign of the good humor Sam had long relied on to temper her brother.

"Or… if you would prefer to stay here," Ezra said.

Sam's shoulders sagged in relief. "You don't mind?"

"A lovely lady's company is always welcome," Ezra said, then laughed at the look Sam gave him. "No untoward thoughts on my end, you have my word."

Sam eyed him and then looked toward the bed.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Ezra said. Sam blushed. She hadn't meant to be so obvious. Or such an innocent. She was nearly eighteen, but Ezra was a couple years older, long out of high school and she hated feeling like some schoolgirl around him.

"Do you have something else to drink?" she asked.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Ezra asked.

Sam gave him a look ad Ezra didn't question her any more, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer.

Sam took it after he flipped the top from it and took a long drink. Showing Ezra she wasn't some kid. Convincing herself she wasn't worried about Morgan, guilty about Chris.

Sam sank down onto the couch. The studio apartment's single room contained the kitchen, bedroom, and living room in a contained space. She ignored the bed a short distance away. She looked at the paintings again, taking another drink of beer. The buzz that she had started to lose with getting sick returned and she let herself relax back into the cushions.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Told herself to stop thinking about Chris. Stop worrying about Morgan. Just pretend none of it mattered for tonight.

#

Ezra took the nearly empty bottle from Sam's hand before she dropped it. She shifted on his couch, pulling her legs up and settling into her sleep.

Ezra set the beer aside and took one of the throw pillows from the couch. He eased Sam's head to a more comfortable angle with the pillow, then pulled the extra blanket from the foot of his bed and laid it over her.

Sam shifted slightly, but didn't wake. Ezra wasn't sure if she was that tired, or passed out drunk. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt tightened his stomach. It wasn't a feeling he was familiar with or enjoyed. Sam was the one who poured herself another couple shots of brandy after the initial glass, Ezra reminded himself. And she asked for the beer, said she was fine. He wasn't her keeper.

No, that would be Chris Larabee. Ezra grimaced at the thought of Sam's brother finding Sam in his apartment. In his apartment after drinking too much brandy and a beer.

He looked at Sam. In her sleep she didn't have the hard edge her brother did. The sharpness that warned everyone to stay away, she didn't need their help. In her sleep she looked gentler. Almost approachable.

And he most definitely should not approach her. Not if he valued his life. He had no allusions that Chris Larabee would have any sort of inclination to listen to an explanation of what Ezra was doing with Sam.

Ezra went to the table to start putting away the leftover food. Just enough for lunch for one tomorrow. Him, alone in his apartment. Alone in his life. How he liked it.

He glanced back over at Sam, her full lips moving slightly as she mumbled something in her sleep.

Yes. Alone. Sam would leave in the morning, heed her brother's warning and steer clear of him and he would be back to being alone.

Ezra told himself that was the way it should be.