Yeah, I know it's short, but again, it was the perfect place to stop. Since I basically do nothing during these long hot summer days… I'll update soon enough. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

And now that I saw that OC book from scholastic, I'm confused. Does the OC belong to Fox, Josh Schwartz or Warner Bros. or all three? In any case, I don't own it, and I'm just playing.

"Hey, Chino."

Summer walked up to the lone figure shining a flashlight in his face to make sure it really was Ryan. He held up a hand to protect his eyes from the light and squinted to put a face to the voice. Though no one else called him Chino.

"You found me."

She smoothed out her short skirt before sitting down, a poor fashion choice considering the weather, but she really hadn't taken the time to change before starting her search for Seth. "I'm persistent," she said, scrunching her face in disgust as the wet sand touched the back of her thighs.

"Like a dog."

She not so playfully punched him in his shoulders.

"Owe."

"Didn't Seth warn me about my rage blackouts?"

"He's mentioned it." He turned his eyes back to the water. "You should go home Summer. You'll get sick sitting out here in the rain."

"So will you. But I need to take you home. Kirsten is either sitting on top of the phone or right by the door waiting for you. Maybe both."

"I can't go back home Summer. They don't want me."

"Funny. That's not the impression I get. Listen, Ryan," Summer said, as water splashed onto her Jimmy Choo shoes. The first ones she could find when Ryan called. "Can we at least talk about this in the front seat of my car? It'll be dry in there."

"You can go. I'm staying here. Thanks for finding Seth. But you don't have to babysit me now that he's with his parents."

"They're your parents too."

He shook his head.

"What's that supposed to mean, Chino? What went down at the Cohens? Fill me in." She was starting to really get worried. She hadn't known what to expect when she set out to find Ryan, but this hadn't been what she had imagined. How would she get Ryan to open up? How would she get him back home?

Suddenly, Ryan felt an overwhelming need to share with someone. Living with the Cohens for over a year had dulled his ability to keep everything to himself. His months in therapy and Sandy's constant needling to share what was bothering him, made it harder for him to hold everything inside.

"Sandy almost hit me."

"What? The Cohens — Sandy would never—"

"Well apparently, I have that effect on adults." He spat out angrily. "Maybe it's something about my face, but people have always taken a keen pleasure in rearranging my nose."

"Ryan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you're lying. It's, it's just hard to swallow. You know. The Cohens seem so perfect."

"Even Sandy gets angry."

"Tell me what happened. From beginning to end." She shuddered as a shiver ran down her spine. She wished the rain would subside or that Ryan would agree to find shelter.

He was so wet, that his shaggy hair was plastered down to his head and water was running down his face and off his nose. If he were crying, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the rain and the tears. His shirt and wifebeater clung to his chest so that she could see the outline of his firm abs and solid torso.

"Come on, Ryan," she repeated gently, "you can tell me what happened."

So Ryan did tell her. He recounted the whole story, from the moment he came down from the nursery until he ran out of the house and Kirsten ran after him. He told the story warily with his eyes cast down at the sand. Summer listened, not interrupting. Every so often, her mouth would drop open, but she immediately closed it as water fell in. When he finished, Summer instinctively threw her arms around his neck and cried, "Oh, Ryan."

"Just forget about it. Okay?"

"I can't. Sandy didn't mean it. He's out of his mind with worry. I saw him. It wasn't a man who tried to beat up some little kid."

He rolled his eyes. "Do I look little to you?"

"You know what I mean."

"Summer, you should go."

"I'm not leaving you. So unless you want me to catch pneumonia, you'll drag your ass back to my car."

"Summer," he whined.

"Come on, Chino." She stood up and yanked his arm. "I need something hot to warm me up."

"Summer, you're pulling my arm out of its socket."

"Well, if you would stand that wouldn't happen. You're not built like Cohen. When I pull him, I can usually get him up."

Ryan couldn't help but laugh. It felt good.

"Okay. I'll come. But I'm not going back."

"Fine. But I need to call Kirsten and tell her I found you. She's called like six times since we started talking. The phone's on vibrate," she added when she noticed his brows cocked in her direction.

Ryan followed Summer to her car, while she called Kirsten on the cell. He could tell that Kirsten wanted to talk to him, but when Summer pointed her chin at the phone, Ryan shook his head, so Summer simply told her, he wasn't ready to talk. Then she hung up. He appreciated that she didn't try to pressure him into doing something he didn't want to do.

"Dunkin Donuts?" she asked as they ducked into her father's silver BMW. She rubbed the tops of her arms.

"Put the keys in the ignition. We can turn on the heat," Ryan instructed.

"Chino, next time you have a meltdown, please don't do it in the rain."

"I'll make a note of that," he said, fiddling with the dials on the dashboard. "You know, Summer," he said, breaking a silence that had fallen over the car. "I see what Seth sees in you."

"What? My hot body? Must be my stellar hair," she said shaking out her wet mane.

Ryan grinned. "Well, that too. Especially the hair. But, no. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life and I'm with you for five minutes and you almost made me forget."

"Almost? Then I didn't do much of a job."

"It was a pretty shitty night, Summer."

"Yeah. It was." She put on her seatbelt and put the car in drive. "We need chocolate and coffee."

"Summer, I can't go back to the Cohens tonight. I can't face Sandy or Kirsten or even Seth."

"You want to crash at my place? We have like fifty spare rooms."

"What about your dad and stepmom?"

"I doubt they would care or notice. Like I said, we have tons of extra rooms. And it's not like you'll be shacking up in my bed." She averted her eyes from the road and looked him up and down. "I'll find something of my dad's you can wear to bed. You can't sleep in that. Otherwise, you'll ruin the linen."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. You have to face my dad in the morning. He already doesn't like Seth, so I'm not sure how he'll react to another Cohen."

"I'll take my chances."

The few hours that Ryan was actually in bed, he slept fitfully. He tossed and turned in his room on the third floor, until the light started streaming in. His nose was running, which wasn't surprising since he had sat out in the rain for over two hours. His head felt stuffed, like he was swimming under water. He needed a hot shower and was relieved to see towels and a robe on the chair next to his bed.

Barefoot, he plodded into the shower and turned on the hot water, not even bothering with the cold to take the edge off. The room steamed up quickly, which helped clear up his stuffed head, but new if he had a full blown cold, it would only be a temporary solution.

The boiling water hit his back like little pinpricks. He bent his head under the stream and wished last night's scene would stop replaying itself over and over in his head, like a bad B movie. The more he thought about it, the less he knew what to do. He stood under the water, until his skin was red and wrinkled and he could stand it no more. He turned off the shower, toweled himself off and put on the clothes Summer had laid out for him. He needed coffee and hoped he wouldn't bump into Dr. Roberts or the stepmother.

He stopped by Summer's room, but she was already gone. Ryan suddenly remembered that it was a school day. He glanced at his watch. It was already second period. He didn't care. Let the school call home and find out why he was absent. At least he didn't have to worry about facing his probation officer anymore.

Ryan stopped in his tracks when he entered the kitchen. Kirsten was sitting at the counter sipping a mug of coffee with a woman he could only assume was Summer's stepmother. He turned to leave.

"Ryan, don't do that."

"Summer, shouldn't have called."

"I called her last night. She told me you were safe. That you were here. She called this morning and asked if she should wake you for school and I told her it wasn't necessary. That you probably needed a day off."

"I'm not going back, Kirsten." They both knew he wasn't talking about school.

"You certainly are young man."

Summer's stepmom quietly got up and left the room. It was just him and Kirsten.

"Sit down Ryan. Sit," she commanded again, when he hesitated.

He slipped into the chair furthest from her.

"Yesterday was plain awful," she started.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I'm not Little Orphan Annie."

Kirsten smiled. It figured Ryan would know his musicals. "Anyway you cut it, yesterday was a bad day. But we've all had time to calm down and reflect."

"I'm not going back."

"And where do you think you're going to go?" she asked, raising her voice slightly, exasperated at his stubbornness. He wasn't giving her a chance to talk. To explain. To try and make it better.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll figure something out," he said and sneezed.

"You're seventeen-years-old. You belong at home. With your family. Even if they all screwed up and made things miserable. We're a family. We're allowed to make mistakes. You made one. I made one. Sandy made one."

"He doesn't want me there."

"He doesn't? I had to practically tie him to the bedpost to keep him from coming here in middle of the night and again this morning. He's miserable over what happened. He said things and did things in the heat of anger, Ryan. Finding out one of our sons is addicted to drugs is stressful enough, but then finding out that the other one knew and didn't say anything, well it's bound to send someone over the edge. We can work it out. Give us a chance."

He shook his head and sneezed again. This time he needed a tissue. He stood up and searched the room, but didn't see a tissue box or a napkin lying around that he could use. Kirsten was unexpectedly beside him, handing him a crumpled tissue that she had dug out of the bottom of her purse.

"That was a dumbass thing to sit out in the rain. Now you have a cold."

He wiped his nose and refused to look at her.

"You need to come home so we can get you into bed. We don't have to talk about anything until you're ready. If you want, I'll keep Sandy away from you for the time being. But you're coming home."

Stubbornly, he shook his head again. "I'd rather stay here."

"It's not an option. You had a one night pass."

"Kirsten, I can't."

"Yes you can, Ryan. I'm your mother, I know these things. Don't make me call Sandy. Because if we have to, we will carry you out of here."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Try me."

And he recognized that look in her eye that said don't mess with me, I'm the mom. It was a look that Seth joshed, "be afraid, very afraid." But there was truth behind every joke.

"I don't have to talk to Sandy."

"Not right away."

"Okay. I'll come home with you."