Warning: On screen fire, talk of fire, an arrest is made, talk of suicide, and talk of abuse


The easy part is over. I thought talking to Valerie would be harder than it was. But I know that what I have to do now is even worse. It tears at me just to think about but I know it's the only way to keep him safe. I have to keep him safe.

My hands shake when I stop at the gas station a couple miles down the road from Valerie's office and fill up my car. Everything in me trembles and threatens to break when I fill up the empty gas can I've had in my trunk forever. I don't remember when or why I started keeping it in my car but I know it wasn't for this reason. I wouldn't have done this back then. I wouldn't have even thought this back then but I'm here now and I know it's for him. It's all for him.

I take the receipt that the machine spits at me when I finish paying for the gas and then I'm climbing back in my car. With my heart hammering in my chest and the gas can wedged between my backseats, I pull out of the parking lot and start down the road – knowing what I have to do despite it fucking clawing at me. I have to save him. I fucking have to save him.


Growing up as the sheriff's son has always worked in my favor. I've gotten out of trouble before because the officers know my dad. When I was caught drinking with a couple of my friends in our freshman year, two officers dropped us off on my doorstep, expecting my dad to handle it. We live in a small-town. And officers have always joked with me that I could get away with murder because of who my father is. I don't know about murder. But I know I can get away with a fire.

I park my car in the clearing at the outlook and I shed my jacket, leaving it on the passenger seat of my Mitsubishi but I take the gas can with me. My heart is pounding in my chest with every step I take but with every breath I drag in, I tell myself why I'm doing this. That if I don't do this, something's gonna happen. Those agents will find this place and they'll know the truth and I'll lose any hope of protecting someone I've tried so fucking hard to save.

My hands are ice cold as I make my way into the woods where I found Danny. Where he called me from, barely breathing and trying to so fucking hard to hold on. This happened because of what those people did to him. I wouldn't be doing this if they hadn't driven me to this.

I think that I feel it in my chest when I get closer to the area I found him in but it takes me a few minutes more to see the place I picked him up from. A dark patch of grass is surrounding a tree and when the bile rises in the back of my throat, I know it's not dirt. Danny's blood has soaked into the ground and if I ever want to keep this safe from those agents, I have to burn it.

Every part of me is cold as I untwist the cap off the gas can and pour it on the ground and up against the tree Danny's body was sagged against when I found him. I don't know if it's the fumes or the fear in the back of my throat but something chokes me and I drop the gas can on the grass behind me.

My hands are shaking as I try to light a match, my breathing ragged and strained. I wish there was another way. I don't want to be labeled a fucking arsonist but here I am. I'm doing this. And as the flame I toss ignites the gasoline saturating the ground, I lose my breath just a little.

The smoke I inhale burns and I know I'll taste it on my tongue for the rest of my life, reminding me what I've done and how far I'm willing to go for him. He didn't ask me to do this. He didn't ask me to do any of this and maybe I should have talked to him first but I couldn't do nothing. I couldn't sit in the back of my classes and do nothing while those agents are out there somewhere, searching for a place just like this. This might be the opposite of how Danny wants to handle this but I've done it now. It's too late to take it back and I think that's what's scaring me. There's no undoing this.


When the smoke has risen so high in the air that I can see it from where I've left my car, I leave. I hide the gas can in the trunk of my car and I start down the main road again, my heart pounding in my chest. With every car that passes by me, I'm scared that it shows on my face. That what I've done is written on my face and that soon, the whole fucking town will know it. I'm a fucking arsonist.

I pull my car into the first parking lot I can find, the guilt gnawing at me. I don't know what's past those woods. Somebody's home could be there and I can't think straight while I'm wondering if I just lit someone's back yard on fire.

Even though it makes my hands tremble worse, I dial the number for the police. I tell the operator what street I'm driving down and that I saw smoke rising from the trees. She asks for a few details but when she asks me to stay on the line while she contacts the station, I hang up. I don't want to leave my name for follow up questions and I don't want anyone connecting this back to me. I've called the police and they'll alert the fire station and that'll be enough. They'll put the fire out and no one will get hurt. God, please don't hurt anyone.


I can't focus after the phone call. I drive down back roads and empty streets, waiting to hear those sirens until I finally decide that getting the fuck out of here is the best choice right now. I don't want anyone seeing my car and somehow tracing this fire back to me.

There's only half an hour left of my algebra class when I get back to school but I take my time pulling into a parking space, trying to keep my heart from racing. I've gotten a handful of texts from Kwan while I was driving but when Danny's name lights up my phone, I turn my engine off and open his message.

From: Danny

Hey, are you okay? Kwan said you were going to see Valerie…?

A breath leaves me as I sit back in my seat, reading over his words again and again until they sink in. Until I remember how tightly Valerie held on to me while I tried not to break the fuck apart. How the smoke burned the back of my throat and how I committed a crime for him.

To: Danny

Yeah, I'm fine. Just got back to school actually. Running a little late, I guess

I leave the comfort of my car, grabbing my backpack before I start for the front doors, my footsteps the only sound in the parking lot. There's still a handful of texts from Kwan that I haven't read over but they all say similar things. Asking if I'm okay or what's going on or if I need him. I don't need him. Or anyone. I just need to know that Danny's okay. And as long as Valerie comes through with this and as long as no one gets hurt from the fire… everything'll be okay.

Danny's down the hall when I step inside the school and he looks up when the door closes behind me. For a moment, we just stare at each other before he starts down the hallway toward me. I let out a breath before I start forward.

We meet in the middle, only inches from each other, and he looks up at me, so many questions in his eyes that tug at the thinly veiled sense of calm I've slipped myself into. Shit, don't look at me like that, Fenton.

"Are you okay?" he asks, like the answer is simple. It is. Cause I should be. I'm fine. As long as nothing fucks this up and I didn't just make the two biggest mistakes of my fucking life, everything's fine.

I push out a breath, flicking my gaze up to the ceiling when he bites his lip. I don't want to relax into his adorable mannerisms and let them distract me. I'm so fucking terrified that this isn't gonna work out the way I've planned it in my head. I trust Valerie. And there's no reason why anyone would think that I'm the one who started the fire. Everything's fine. It should all be fine.

"Yeah," I say, my voice stilted to my own ears. I don't know if he thinks I'm lying or if this has anything to do with my shit but his concern comes in his knuckles brushing along my cheekbone and jolting me back to this moment. To reality.

Danny's face slowly flushes when I meet his gaze again and I want to tell him that there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I don't mind if he touches me. Fuck, I actually like it when he touches me. God, why can't this be the time to tell him this shit? Why couldn't I be inwardly freaking out cause I'm about to tell him that I love him instead of… this.

He wrinkles his nose, tilting his head to one side. "Did you go to the garage? You smell like gasoline."

Fuck. He can smell it on me. Everyone here probably can. If I go into a classroom smelling like this, all it'll take is a simple question from the police for everyone to point me out. And I'll go down for this. No matter who my dad is, I'll get taken in for this and then everything will fall apart.

"I talked to Valerie," I say, my voice barely above a whisper on the words. This isn't the kind of shit to talk about in the middle of the goddamn school hallway but it's not like I have a choice anymore. I have to get this out before it destroys me. "I asked her… to steal whatever evidence they have against the phantom."

Danny's eyes widen and a breath leaves him as he steps back. "What?" he breathes.

I let out a breath, shifting my gaze past him. I stare at the ugly green lockers so I don't have to see the look on his face. He's scared. Worse than I am. Cause while I'm doubting the trust I've put in one of my best friend's, Danny doesn't even know her.

"It's… the only thing I could think of," I say, looking back at him after only a few seconds of silence. I exhale as he holds my gaze, slowly shaking his head. "I'm sorry if that's not... what you wanted me to do. But I… had to do something."

Danny exhales out, his breath shaky but he meets my gaze. "Shit," he mumbles, adjusting the way the straps of his backpack are sitting on his shoulders before he looks up at me again. "What did she… um, did she like… agree or something?"

"Yeah, she did." I should probably mention that I had to tell her who the phantom is or at least tell him how the conversation went, even if I leave that part out. But I need to get out of here before anyone catches the scent I'm carrying around like my own guilt.

I let out a heavy breath. "Sorry I missed our spare," I say, flashing him a quick smile that has him biting his lip in response and stirring those butterflies in my gut. "I gotta head out. I'll see you later, okay?"

Danny exhales out, slowly shaking his head. "Probably not…" He nods toward the front doors. "My dad's coming to pick me up," he mumbles, taking a step back from me. "Sorry, I'll… text you or something, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I respond, hesitating only a second before I catch the sleeve of his hoodie in my hand. He almost stumbles into me but I keep him upright, our breath mingling together in one shared exhale. Ho…ly shit.

My voice cracks with the words I manage to cough out but I congratulate myself on being able to speak at all. "Y-You… you're okay though… right?"

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before we both realize how close we're still standing and I let go of him. He takes a step backward, mumbling incoherently before he shrugs. "Kinda… at least, I'll be okay, I know that. It's just… hard right now," he says, as his phone vibrates softly. "Ahh… looks like he's here."

Danny looks up at me again after checking over the screen. "Yeah, that's him… I gotta go but I'll text you," he says, a small smile cracking his serious expression. He hesitates for a second longer before his eyebrows draw down. "Where are you going?"

I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I've already skipped half the day. Might as well get the full experience of playing hooky," I say with a grin, nodding toward the front door. "Can I walk you out?"

He hesitates at first but he nods, falling into step beside me. I hold the front door open for him and follow him out. His dad's car is idling at the sidewalk, an ugly old white van with a faded logo I don't recognize on one side.

Danny blows out a breath, coming to a stop several paces from it. I want to hug him before he goes but I don't want to get the scent of what I've done all over him. And his dad rolls down the passenger window before I get the chance to make up my mind.

"Dash, hey," Jack calls, giving me a wave from the driver's seat. He shifts his gaze over to Danny, smiling brightly. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

Danny nods. "Yeah," he responds, turning back to look at me. "So… I'll uh… call you later, okay? If you're not busy," he adds in a rush, exhaling out heavily in the silence. He barely gives me more than a few seconds to respond before he turns away. He leaves me with the memory of his smile and the barest touch of his shoulder against my chest as he brushes by me. Shit, he's gotta know what he's doing to me, right?

I wait in the parking lot until Danny's dad has disappeared from the lot, wondering when the hell Danny's gonna be up for driving himself again. I don't know what's eating at him right now but I think I might have made it worse. I've added more shit for him to think about and I didn't even consider that. I don't know if I'll ever stop fucking things up but I have to find a way to stop fucking things up for Danny. He deserves better than that. Better than me.


I don't think I even know where I'm going when I leave the school until I'm there. When I'm turning onto the road that'll take me straight to the garage, I know where I need to be. If someone comes looking for me, wondering why the scent of gasoline is clinging to my skin, being at the garage is a good enough excuse. And it's not like anyone here will catch the scent on me. It's the fucking perfect alibi and I hate myself for dragging anyone else into this.

Alex is working on the Mustang when I get out of my car. He's leaning over the engine, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead despite the chill in the air outside. I wonder how long he's been working today. I wonder if he'll hear about what I did and wonder who's responsible. I wonder if my name will even cross his mind.

"Playing hooky, squirt?" Anastasia calls from the bay she's working in when I step inside the garage. Alex straightens up from his car, stretching his back before he turns to look at me, a curious expression on his face.

I shuffle further into the garage with a shrug. "Didn't feel like sitting through the bullshit today," I say, shifting my gaze from Anastasia to Alex. "You mind if I hang out here for a while?"

Alex glances toward Anastasia before he nods. "Sure. You want to work on a car or you just want to hang out?" he asks and even though working would probably help me, I don't know if my shaky hands can pick up any tools. I don't know if I have the strength to work and I don't want anyone here to ask any questions. I know I'll crumble under the weight of anything they want to know.

I shrug, crossing over to the bay that Alex is standing in. "I just want to hang out," I tell him, leaning against the side of his car as I let out a breath. "How's the engine coming along?"

It's an empty question. And I think Alex knows that I'm only asking it so I don't have to think for a while. But he effortlessly talks about the car and what parts he's still missing and what's he ordered and it all works to distract me. His talk of tools and car parts works to ease the anxiety that's been curling in my gut. Until a cop car pulls into the parking lot and the sight sends me crashing back down to reality.

"What the fuck?" Anastasia says softly and when I manage to lift my stare up to Alex's face, he's turned to look out into the parking lot. When he sees the police car, his posture stiffens just a little and I wonder if he thinks it's my dad. I wonder if Alex thinks he's here for me. I wonder if I'll have the strength to tell him he's right.

Alex tsks softly under his breath and ditches his wrench back into his tool box. "The hell are they doing here?" he mumbles more to himself than anyone else but I take it like it's directed at me. Like he knows the truth and he's waiting for me to confess.

"They're here for me," I whisper, my voice soft on the few words and only intended for Alex to hear.

He turns back to look at me, his eyebrows drawing down in confusion. He starts to ask me why – or maybe he asks if it's my dad, I don't know. I know that I can't answer any questions he has. Cause I'll crumble and he'll see it and those officers will get all the proof they need from the fear in my eyes. If I leave the garage, I know the truth will spill from me like a fucking river.

"Lie for me," I breathe, hating the look on Alex's face and how small my voice sounds in my ears. "Tell them I've been at the garage for hours. That I left school earlier and that I've been here. Please… don't let them drag me down to the station."

Alex is still looking at me like he's trying to figure out what the hell I've gotten myself into but the officers are approaching the garage now. He leaves me standing by his car and the nerves are racing up and down my veins, reminding me that I did something illegal and that the offices are just doing their fucking job.

"What's going on, Chuck?" Alex calls out to my dad's partner who's coming up the walk now. For a heart stopping second, I think my dad's with him. But when I look up, Chuck's coming up the walk with an officer I don't recognize. I don't understand why he's working with someone else right now but I don't think I care. They're here for me and nothing I can do can make this go away now. I fucked up so fucking badly.

Chuck lets out a breath, shoving his car keys into his pocket before he nods behind Alex, toward me. "Just need to ask Dash a couple of questions," he says, stopping a few paces in front of Alex. The two share a look that I don't entirely understand but I'm distracted when the other officer steps away from them and starts for me instead.

My heart is bouncing around inside my ribcage like it's on a fucking bungee cord and I can't do anything to stop it. No amount of careful breaths or soothing words can fix this. I fucked up. I fucking fucked up.

"Dash, I'm officer Hartwood, I've been told you know officer Dower," he says nodding toward Chuck before he looks at me again. "I just need to ask you some questions about your whereabouts today. You left school just after 11am, can you tell me where you went?"

I swallow hard, breathing out slowly before I nod. "I… brought lunch to a friend," I say, the clarity of my voice surprising me. I thought I'd surely be a pathetic shaking mess with the first words I needed to speak but I'm not.

He raises an eyebrow. "Got anybody that can confirm that for you?"

"Excuse me officer, but what exactly is this about?" Alex asks, leaving Chuck where he stands and crossing over to me again. He gives the officer a once over before he folds his arms over his chest. "What do you want with him?"

Officer Hartwood shoots Alex an annoyed look. "Someone started a fire in the woods off route 46," he says, nodding toward me. "We got an anonymous phone call from someone driving by and we decided to trace the number. You want to tell me what you were doing that far out?" he asks, looking at me again.

Alex glances between the two of us like he doesn't understand what's going on. "Wait – hang on. You're here because he called in about something he saw happening?" he asks, scoffing as he shakes his head. "I asked him to run an errand for me on his way here earlier. He saw it as he was passing by."

"Yeah," I swallow hard when the officer looks back at me but my voice stays strong. "He needed some gas to test out the engine," I mumble, leaning back far enough to put my hand on the hood of his Mustang.

Officer Hartwood looks past me before he narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze back to me. "So why did you hang up before we could get your name? Why didn't you stay on the line and give us more information?"

"Probably cause of shit like this," Alex responds, matching the officer's glare with his own. "He did a good thing and you're coming for him because of it? What – do you honestly think Dash had anything to do with that?"

Hartwood's cheeks are stained red as he blows out a breath. "We're just doing our jobs, Moreno. If you've got a problem with that, you should have enrolled in the academy."

"Fuck you," Alex spits and his words feel too harsh and biting to just be for me now. He moves closer to the officer and from where I'm standing, I can see the officerput his hand on his taser, like he'll bring Alex down if he needs to. But he's doing this for me and I can't watch that happen.

I meet Alex where he's standing, his whole frame shaking from the anger and I know that feeling. I know it well and I know that it's so fucking hard to ignore. "Alex, come on. He's just asking me some questions," I say, trying to deescalate the situation before it gets any worse. But I make the mistake of putting my hand on the officer at the same time I put my other one on Alex. And Hartwoodhas my arm pinned behind my back, my chest flush with Alex's Mustang before I even have time to blink.

Hartwood starts reading me my rights and in the distant part of my mind, I can hear Alex talking over him but it's white noise to me. My ears are ringing and I taste the smoke on the back of my tongue. I remember the warmth from the fire I started and it tears at me like a jagged, rusty knife.

"Are you seriously gonna let this happen? Again, Chuck?" Alex is demanding and I can't see him or Chuck from where I am but I hear the tone of anger in Alex's voice.

The officeris still talking to me but I don't catch anything he's saying. He's shifted me against the Mustang as he frees up one hand to get his handcuffs and I can see Alex now. He's standing in front of Chuck, his arms folded tightly over his chest, the two of them locked in a stare to the death.

"You have a chance to do the right thing, Chuck. You gonna let it slip away again?"

Chuck closes his eyes, shaking his head a little like he can't make up his mind. I don't get a chance to hear his response before officer Hartwood drags me up from the car and starts guiding me toward the exit. My breath catches in my throat as I stumble past Alex, the look on his face some mix between confusion and shock. I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so fucking sorry.

"Hartwood," Chuck calls softly, turning just a little before he exhales out. "Let him go. He didn't do anything."

The officer hesitates for a second before he scoffs, tightening his hold on my upper arms. "Really? You want me to just let him go because you're having some kind of moral debate with someone you don't even know anymore?"

"That's Howard's boy. He didn't do anything." Chuck turns to Hartwoodand the two share a glare that's equal parts stubborn and anger coming from both sides. And it's not until Alex speaks that the stare is broken.

"You heard him, let Dash go," he says, his voice almost a challenge to the other officer and both Chuck and I can sense that storm brewing.

Hartwoodstarts to snap back but Chuck shuts it down, telling the officer to let me go. There's a second longer before the officer undoes the handcuffs around my wrists and he steps away from me. He doesn't look back at the three of us before he starts out of the garage, clearly pissed, but Chuck doesn't seem to care.

He lets out a breath, flicking his gaze back to Alex and I stand beside the two, trying not to shake all over.

"Alex…" Chuck trails off with a heavy sigh, shaking his head again. I don't know what's going on between the two of them but seeing Chuck stick up for both me and Alex has me seeing him differently now. Let whatever this is go, Alex. He just saved me from being fucking arrested.

I don't know if Chuck reaches for Alex intentionally or if it's unconscious movement but Alex reacts like he's been shocked. Every ounce of anger someone can feel drips over his words as he jerks his arm from Chuck.

"Don't touch me," he snaps out, practically spitting fire on the few words.

They share a look that I don't entirely understand and I feel like I'm watching a private moment. But my knees are knocking together too badly for me to make a move and I'm afraid I'll collapse on the first step I try so I'm rooted in place.

"How long are we going to do this?" Chuck asks, his voice soft on the words despite Alex's anger. He lets out a low breath, dropping his gaze with a shrug. "When I heard that you and Kendra were talking again, I thought maybe…"

"Who the fuck did you hear that from?" Alex asks but the anger isn't there this time. Even though it's still all over his face and in how tightly his arms are crossed over his chest, it doesn't seep into his tone the way I thought it would. He just sounds confused. Almost scared.

Chuck lifts his stare up to Alex again. "Kendra told me. I guess she thought that because you two were talking again, there was a chance that we could fix this between us but I guess not."

Alex scoffs but he doesn't come back with anything. He shifts his gaze out into the parking lot and lets out a heavy sigh before he nods toward the parking lot. "Your trigger happy friend is waiting on you and I've got work to do. So… you should probably get out of here."

"You know you can't run from this forever, right? What happened when we were younger… it was horrible, Alex. I know it was. But you-"

"I said get out of here," Alex snaps back, his voice far too biting and cold for this moment. Chuck was trying to help me – he did help me. But Alex is sending him away and I don't get it.

Chuck leaves without another word but Alex swears under his breath as Chuck walks away. He watches the parking lot until Chuck and Hartwood are both inside the police car and then he turns away from it, letting out a breath as he drags his fingers through his hair.

Silence descends over the garage for a few, agonizing seconds and in those moments, Alex seems to stitch himself back together. It doesn't happen all in one breath but after several, he's able to drop his hands from his hair and his breathing evens out again.

No one in the garage has made a move or a sound and Alex is the only one to break the silence. He exhales out heavily before turning to look at me and I'm stuck in place. I hold his gaze for as long as he'll let me but the guilt eats away at me as soon as his eyes are off me.

He turns away from me, facing Anastasia now. "Close up shop. We're done for the day," he says, turning away from her before she has a chance to argue – but something about the way Alex is crackling with electricity tells me she wouldn't have anything to argue over.

Alex looks to me again, a heavy breath rattling from deep inside of himself and he nods toward the exit. "Outside. We need to talk," he says, his voice soft on the words like he's trying not to scare me. But my knees are knocking together and I can barely breathe without feeling like I'm gonna vomit. It's too late, Alex. It's too fucking late.

I make it outside without falling over but I almost lose my balance at the look on Alex's face when we come to a stop by my car. He watches me in silence for a few seconds, his arms folded over his chest before he nods toward my car.

"What's with the sheet?" he asks in a way that's so innocent, I know I'll hate myself for lying to him. But I have to. For Danny. All for Danny.

I shrug, leaning back against my car even though I feel like collapsing. Even though my legs threaten to give out underneath me and my heart is pounding like crazy, I somehow manage to pull off looking casual as I talk. "Spilled some paint a couple days ago."

Alex looks like he calls bullshit but he lets that part go – asking something that makes my heart stop instead. "Tell me. If I open up your trunk, am I gonna find a gas can? Or some kind of lighter fluid?"

I swallow hard, meeting his gaze despite how it tears me up inside. I see the shift in his eyes, the split-second where he can't believe it's the truth, and the moment he accepts it. I did it, Alex. It was me.

"Fucking hell," Alex says, his voice louder than a whisper but not exactly a shout either. He shakes his head, looking away from me and plunging the two of us into total silence that I'm not sure how to navigate. He keeps his stare on the pavement and I keep my focus on trying not to throw up.

I can't look at him as I admit it – and even though he knows the truth, I feel the need to say it out loud. To confirm it. Maybe for his sake or maybe because I need to say it. So that I accept it. I did this. It was me.

"Yes," I breathe, shaking all over as I drag my fingernails across my scalp. "I started the fire."

Alex is staring at me when I manage to lift my gaze to his and he practically breaks on the one word. "Why?" His eyebrows are drawn down but not out of anger. It's some mixture of confusion and fear and I don't know how to ease it. I don't know how to tell him that I did it for a good reason. Because I can't tell him what that reason is. Why I did this has to stay a secret or it was all pointless.

I push away from my car, still shaking like a leaf but standing up on my own. "I don't know," I breathe, letting my eyes fall closed as I step away from my car, not entirely sure where I'm going. "I can't… I don't know how to tell you."

"Use your words, Dash. You're not an idiot," Alex says, his voice far too biting for me to handle. I know I fucked up. I know he deserves more of an answer. But I deserve the space to figure this out on my own before I have to tell anyone else.

I shrug, plunging my hand into my pocket and dragging my keys out. "I don't want to talk about it," I mumble, nodding toward my car. He stares back at me and for a few seconds, he won't move out of my way.

"Alex, come on," I practically beg, nearly collapsing against the car again. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to stand here and pretend that I'm capable of this. That I'm stronger than this. I'm breaking, Alex. Please just let me go.

He steps out of my way but his body language reads pissed. Everything about him is practically vibrating from anger and I almost collapse right there on the pavement. I manage to let out a weak breath but that's the most I can do without splintering. I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so fucking sorry.

I get in my car without another word even though there's a thousand trapped inside of me. I could spit a million words at Alex's feet and it still wouldn't be enough. I need to tell him everything but it's all too much. I know I wouldn't get the words past my lips before I choked and it would all come spilling out of me. So I leave. I run away cause that's all I fucking know how to do. I've been so fucking terrified of turning out just like dad but who fucking knew that I'm just like my mom.


I drive for hours. Every back road I've ever been down and across every major intersection. I run red lights and I push myself to go faster. I'm so fucking angry at myself and at Alex and at the fucking cops. I'm pissed that my mom left and that dad's trying again after all this fucking time. I don't know why he's trying but he is and I can't accept it cause it hurts. Cause I don't believe it. Cause I'm too fucking angry to feel anything else.

When traffic starts to get bad and I realize that everyone's out of school now, I go home. I don't know what I'm expecting to find when I pull my car into my neighborhood but an empty driveway hurts more than it has a right to. I should be fucking used to this by now.

I get out of my car and head inside without bothering to stop for my backpack. I don't care anymore. My homework doesn't matter and school doesn't matter and I'm just fucking done. I can't care anymore or it'll eat me alive.

I can't think right now and I don't have the energy to do anything other than lie on the couch and catch what's on the TV. I channel-flip for a while, bouncing between a soap opera and some talk show that's so fucking condescending. I don't want to watch either but I can't bring myself to look for anything else.

The talk show rolls to a commercial so I flip back to the soap but I hit the wrong button and I end up on the news. And before I have the chance to change the channel again, I see the coverage. Images and videos of the fire I started are rolling across the screen and I can't stomach it but I can't tear my fucking eyes away either. This is my fucking fault.

Before I can switch the channel, a news anchor starts talking – telling me that the police have no suspects yet and I fucking hate myself for the relief that courses through me. I don't have a fucking right to feel relieved. I committed a crime and I'm relieved that they haven't pinned it on me yet.

I tune out the rest of what the news anchor is saying as I get my phone from the couch, typing in my passcode one-handedly. I don't know what I'm looking for. It's not like I expect Alex to be the one to reach out first. I almost open Kwan's string of text messages but the television distracts me before I get the chance.

My dad's name is casually mentioned and I think my heart stops when the word hospital follows after it. I sit upright on the couch, my heart slamming inside my ribs as I try to remember how to breathe. The news anchor says that he was hospitalized earlier for smoke inhalation and second degree burns.

I practically fling myself from the couch as I stand up, shoving my keys and my phone into my pockets before I shut off the television. Everything in me is racing up and down as I open the front door and step outside.

Before I even get the door locked behind me, his car pulls into the driveway. My knees are weak underneath me and dad's got a wide patch of gauze wrapped around his arm as he gets out of his car. It tears at me. Reminds me what the fuck I did and just how many people I could have fucking hurt.

"Hey," dad calls out to me as he comes up the walk. He smiles and it hurts. It stings at the thinly veiled confidence I've tried slipping on over my skin like a jacket that's too big. One that sits heavily on my bones, reminding me that it doesn't belong. That I don't belong.

I don't find strength enough to talk beyond a simple 'hi' and I see dad's eyebrows draw down before I get a chance to look away from him. I turn back to the house and push the door open, stepping inside and breathing in air that feels too stale.

Dad closes the door behind the two of us and he waits behind me, like he's watching for my next move. And even though my heart's pounding out of my chest and I should put as much distance between the two of us as I can, I don't. I turn back to him and try not to shake as I meet his gaze.

"I just… caught the news," I breathe, swallowing hard. "They said you were in the hospital?"

He frowns, nodding once. "I was earlier. There was a fire off route 46 this afternoon. I went down there with a couple of other officers," he says, letting out a breath as he shakes his head. "As if the station wasn't busy enough, we're now looking at a case of arson and I've only got a few officers to put on it."

I choke. I don't know if it's the tone of his voice, the faint taste of that smoke, or if it's something else entirely. Something chokes me and I end up with my head in my hands, dragging in one breath after another, just trying to hold on.

Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, giving me a little shake. "Dash," he says, like he doesn't know what else to say.

I wish there was something I could do. Some way I could own up to what I did and not have him hate me. Not have him haul me in and book me. I wish I could tell him the truth and not have it fucking matter. But I committed a crime and my dad's the fucking sheriff.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice so gentle, I could mistake him for someone else. Cause it's been years since I've heard him like this and I don't know what do. I want to trust him but he's the sheriff. It's not like he can write me a free pass just because I'm his son.

Dad puts his other hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently and I can't take it. He's being kind and I'm being a wreck. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to do shit like this and not let it fuck with me. I started that fire. I started that fucking fire.

"I'm okay, son," dad says softly, pulling me closer to him. He fits me against his chest and I almost collapse against him. Cause his arms are warm around me and he holds me like he's afraid I might break, whispering the same few words over and over just to calm my racing heart. "It's okay, I've got you. You're okay."


It's weird after that. When I manage to pull away from him, my skin feels rubbed raw. I feel naked and like I'm hiding every inch of myself at the same time. Dad doesn't ask and I guess he assumes the fear was all for him.

He asks if I want to go out to the steakhouse with him and I don't know if I can be around other people right now. He seems to immediately understand when I shrug cause his hand is on my shoulder again, guiding me forward toward the kitchen.

"Come on. We'll grill some steaks ourselves then," he says, his hand warm on my back as he gently nudges me toward the fridge. "Get out the meat, I'll find the marinade."

I don't know if he's doing this on purpose – putting me to work to get me distracted – but I don't think he knows how much it helps. Cause when I'm pulling out steaks and helping him get them ready to go on the grill, it distracts me enough to get me to stop thinking. I quit agonizing over everything that's happened today and by the time the steaks are ready, I can breathe again.

"You coming out with me?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at the grill in the back yard before he frowns and looks back at me. "These two shouldn't take long to cook. You set the table for us, hmm?"

I don't know if his hesitation is at all based on the fire or not but… I don't want to go outside with him. So I watch him go and I end up with my head in my hands again. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen, my hands braced against my knees as I drag in a breath that shakes, trying to calm the fuck down.

No one was hurt. The fire was put out. Everything's fine. No one suspects you. Everything's fucking fine, just calm down.

I drag in a breath that's splintered and broken and I pull my phone from my pocket, typing a message and hitting send before I even think it through.

To: Alex

Don't tell anyone what I told you

No one can find out, okay?

Please, Alex

My chest constricts painfully as I move through the kitchen, leaving my phone on the counter. I try not to think about it but the second it vibrates softly, I stop what I'm doing and go to it. My hands shake as I lift my phone from the countertop but relief floods through me like my own blood, reminding me that despite everything, Alex always has my back.

From: Alex

Of course. You know you can trust me


Dinner is awkward. It's filled with hesitation on both our parts and I could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it all if I wasn't so terrified. Dad being careful around me isn't something that I'll ever get used to. It's weird and out of place and I want to tell him just to stop. But I don't know how to say that I'm fine without choking.

He suggests watching a ball game together but I'm too twisted up inside my head to spend anymore time with him than I already have. So I lie and say that I have homework. And as soon as dinner is done, I lock myself away in my room, carding my fingers through my hair in a desperate attempt to stay calm.

Everything in my room feels out of place now that it's all put away so I end up pulling it all out again. Cases for my CD's and video games end up spread across my bedroom floor and I pull clothes from my dresser, feeling like a kid throwing a tantrum but it helps. It eases the jagged parts of myself that feel too much and not enough at the same time. It scratches that itch, that need to do something – even if that something is tearing my room apart, searching for my broken sanity.


I'm sitting at my desk, leaning back in my chair and staring at the ceiling when my phone rings. I expect Alex's name or maybe even Valerie, but it's neither. Danny's name is lighting up my screen and the rational part of myself knows what he's calling about. But the part that just wants to leave this all behind urges me on to answer it, convincing myself that he's just calling to talk.

"Hello?" my voice is hesitant on the one word and I wonder if he can hear it. If he can feel the tremble over the phone lines or if I'm the only one that recognizes the shakiness of my own voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he says in a rush, a shaky breath rattling across the phone line. "Tell me that you had nothing to do with this. Please, Dash – tell me it's a coincidence."

My hands are shaking again and my world tilts. I shift in my desk chair, sliding down until my neck is resting against the back. I don't know how to admit it. I don't know how to say the words we both already know. It's not a coincidence. Of course it's not a coincidence.

"I uhh…" I trail off, uncertain of how to spit the broken words at him. He knows the truth – we both do. But saying it feels so much more powerful than just the few words it'd take. It feels heavier than that. Bigger than that. It's bigger than this room, than the two of us… bigger than myself and everything I've ever done. I started something but I have no idea how to stop it.

Danny swears again but he doesn't say anything else before abruptly ending the call. It takes a few minutes of listening to the dead air before I realize that he hung up. That he's not on the line anymore because of what I did.

My breath is stuttered as I wait for the call to connect again and for half a second, I don't think he's gonna answer. But when his voice comes on the line again, another swear tangled up in his words, I don't wait for him to stop before I'm talking.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean for… any of this to get so far out of hand," I admit, breathing out to shake the nerves from me. It does little to ease the way my heart is pounding but it makes my head feel just a little clearer. It makes me feel like I'm more in control than I am.

Danny's quiet on his end and I take a few seconds to drag in a shaky breath. I don't know what to say. I don't know what he needs to hear. I fucked up. I fucked up badly. And there's nothing I can do to fix it – no way I can take it back.

"I don't know what I was thinking, I just… Danny, I didn't want them to find you," I breathe, squeezing my eyes closed as I sit forward in my chair. I grip one hand around the edge of my desk, trying to keep from running. From bolting out of my room and into my car so I can get to him. So he can see how fucking sorry I am.

I try to say something else – another broken apology – but Danny interrupts me before I've even gotten the first word out.

"You know, I was willing to let the Valerie thing go. You know – where you told someone I don't even know about what and who I am without even asking me." His voice is so cold on the words, a shiver runs through me. He lets out a noise that sounds like he's breaking but his voice is just as angry when he starts again. "I decided it didn't matter that you didn't ask because I trust you. I trust you, Dash, and this is what you do?"

My heart is slamming around inside my ribcage, wrapping around my esophagus and threatening to choke me into silence. "Danny, I-I'm so sorry. You've gotta believe me, I'm-"

"I don't care," he spits, his voice like ice to my veins. "You didn't ask me about Valerie and you didn't ask me about this. How could you… how could set a fire without talking to me? Without even mentioning it?"

I was trying to protect you. Danny, I was only trying to protect you.

"Danny, I…"

"Stop saying you're sorry," he interrupts, huffing out a sigh that's equal parts angry and frustrated. "This is on the news now. Did you think about that when you did it? Did you even consider for a second that this might get back to the people looking for me? That they might see this coverage and consider that someone might be trying to burn away evidence?"

Shit. He's right. He's fucking right – I should have thought this through but I went with my gut instead. I went with my instincts and I should have fucking checked with him first. I should have run this by him instead of doing what I thought was best because… because I don't fucking know what's best anymore.

"I'm sorry… I…" I suddenly remember that dad's somewhere in the house and he might overhear me. I drop my voice anyway even though it might be too late. "Can I meet you somewhere? I don't… I want to figure out what we do from here."

"We?" he demands, letting out a scoff. "There is no 'we' anymore about this stuff, Dash. I don't want your help with any of this – I don't need someone making stupid decisions helping me. You've done enough."

He hangs up then and my blood runs cold. I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

My heart aches when I pull my phone away from my ear to see the call ended. To see his name disappear off my screen and know in the pit of my stomach that it's the last time I'll hear from. I've done it. I've pushed him for the last fucking time.

I want to call him back. I ache to hear his voice again even if all he'll do is throw swear words intermittent with my name. I deserve it. I deserve all of it. But I know he won't answer my call and I know I can't do that to him. He's done with me and I have no defense. He has every fucking right to be.


It's almost ten when I hear dad on the stairs. I'm lying in bed, on top of my covers with my shit still everywhere in my room. I'm staring up at the ceiling, my phone halfway across the room because I know if it's near me, I'll call Danny. I know I won't be getting any sleep tonight but I'll hate myself forever if I don't take the hint and just leave him alone like he wants me to.

Dad knocks softly on my door and I wish I could feign sleep. But my light's on and I know he wouldn't believe that I'm asleep anyway, so I call out for him to come in.

He eases the door open and cautiously steps inside, surveying me in silence for a few seconds. His hesitation is laughable because dad's never been one to sense things like this in me. But I suppose when it was staring him in the face earlier, he couldn't exactly pretend like everything was fine.

"Hey," he calls softly, taking a small step further into the room.

I know better than to take my eyes off him, especially when he's playing the nice parent role again, but I flick my gaze to the ceiling, studying the popcorn texture in silence. I don't know how to pretend like my world didn't implode tonight and I don't feel like making pretend.

"I'm headed to bed, just wanted to come check on you," he says and I nod without breaking my stare. He lets out a quiet breath. "Son… is there something on your mind?"

I can't tell him. Not only is he the sheriff, he's also my dad. And I know how he'd react to something like this. His fists would do the talking and I'd never be able to breathe again. I'd splinter and wilt the second his hands were on me.

"No," I run a hand down my face, shrugging once before I finally look away from the ceiling and meet dad's curious stare. "It's just… been one of those days."

Dad nods like he gets it but he doesn't. He has no clue what I'm going through and there's no way I can let him in on it. There aren't words to describe the ache I feel knowing that the boy I've fallen for wants nothing to do with me now.

"I'm working the early shift tomorrow but you should come by for lunch," dad offers, nodding when I raise my eyebrows. "It'll be fun."

I could laugh at how outrageous this whole thing is. It's been a long time since I've had fun with dad. I don't know why he's trying so hard to be something he's not but I don't think I can play along with him. I don't want to go out to lunch with him and I don't want to pretend like he doesn't regularly mark my skin with his fists.

He lets out a quiet breath. "I'll let you sleep. Text me tomorrow if you decide to stop by. I'll clear some time for you," he says, nodding once before he takes a few steps out of my room and closes the door behind him.

I listen to his footsteps fading in the distance before the exhaustion of the day hits me full-force. I don't think I felt it earlier or if I did, it was masked by the general uneasiness that's been hanging over me all day.

I only get out of bed to fold the covers down and pull my jeans off. I cut the light out and cross my room again, stumbling over all the shit I left on my floor. It feels too early to sleep but I collapse on my mattress anyway, the blankets weighing heavily on me and lulling me into the darkness. I don't know what tomorrow will bring or if Danny will even let me talk to him but I dread it. I dread every part of the new day and I briefly wonder if there's a way I can just stay home before sleep overtakes me and I tumble into the blackness.


Something startles me awake and for half a second, I imagine it's Danny. Some fucked up part of my brain tells me that he's calling me and even though my phone's ringing across the room, I know he's not the one on the other end.

I cross my room over to my desk and grab my phone, blinking at the string of numbers staring back at me as the time clicks over to five-thirty. I try to wipe the sleep from my eyes but it's still the same number I remember dialing in an adrenaline fueled panic only a few days ago.

"Mom?" I ask as soon as I press the phone to my ear. It's colder in my room than it was when I fell asleep so I crawl back in bed, dragging the covers up closer to me. "What's going on?" I ask, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand.

She breathes out with just enough of a shake in her breath to wake me up fully. "Hey, honey… I didn't wake you, did I?" she asks, her voice soft with every word. Fuck. How does she make my heart ache and soar at the same time? After she left, all I wanted to do was hear from her. But the second she asked me for help, I pushed her away. I spend so much time fucking up and I always end up pushing people away. One day, I'm gonna have to learn to stop being so fucking selfish.

"No," I lie, running a hand down my face. I roll over onto my side, keeping the phone propped against my cheek with the movement. "Is everything okay?"

Mom makes a small noise before she responds. "Everything's falling into place, Dash. My attorney has a few minutes free tomorrow and has agreed to meet with you. Can you meet me in Dryden tomorrow so you can talk to him?"

Shit. I made the promise to talk to her attorney when Danny was bleeding out, I almost forgot that I was actually gonna have to follow through with it. Fuck… tomorrow? I feel like I need a damn week to prepare myself for this shit but I've got less than a day.

"Uhh…" I let out a heavy breath, my eyes falling closed. I don't know if I can drive like this. "Can you pick me up instead?"

Mom lets out a quiet breath. "Okay. I've agreed to meet with my attorney at eleven-thirty so… I'll pick you up around 9, I suppose?" she asks, her exhale loud over the phone. "Do you want to meet me at your school?"

I don't really want to go into school at all knowing that I'll have to cut out early to leave with her. I don't want any of my friends to see her and I don't want Danny to see her… I don't think I want Danny to even see me. Shit, it's better to avoid school altogether.

"No, that's not… a good idea. Um, can you meet me at Alex's garage instead?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb, slowly letting a breath out. In a couple of hours, I'll be in the car with her, on my way to tell an attorney all the shit with my dad.

God, I should feel relieved that this day has finally come but I just feel sick instead. Dad's trying again. And I feel like I'm betraying him by agreeing to tell someone what he's like sometimes. I try to convince myself that everything will be okay but if I can't believe it in the darkness of my bedroom, how the hell am I supposed to believe it tomorrow while I'm sitting in some stranger's office?


I barely sleep after I end the call with mom. I get in maybe an hour before I decide to call it quits and get up. I don't feel like laying around waiting for the inevitable.

My shower is luke-warm and dad's already gone by the time I get out. It's just past six-thirty but I get dressed and leave the house early anyway, only stopping for some coffee that I slowly nurse on my way to the garage.

Alex doesn't usually open the garage until eight so I'm not surprised that my car's the only one in the lot when I pull up. I leave my car running as I get out and find the spare key hidden underneath the gutter, opening up the garage so I can drive my car into one of the bay's. If I'm gonna be here for a few hours anyway, I might as well take care of the final thing tying me to this shit. Maybe now I can breathe again when cop cars pass by me in traffic.

I park my car in the bay and shed my jacket in the passenger seat, grabbing my coffee and keys before I leave the lingering warmth of the driver's seat. Exhaustion is in my every movement so I drain a few more swallows of coffee before I prop the cup on the top of a toolbox, finding a bottle of bleach before I get back to my car.

The sight of that bloodstain makes my stomach turn but I manage to push the bile back with a few scalding mouthfuls of coffee. I can do this. I have to do this.

I find a pair of scissors in the bottom of a toolbox and I cut up the sheet into strips I use to scrub at the stain. The bleach does jack-shit at first but when I leave it sitting for a few minutes, the stain starts to lighten. I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to drive my car with the windows up again and the scent of bleach is stinging my eyes even now but it's working.

I've gotten the stain to lighten a bit but it's still ugly looking when someone pulls into the parking lot. Shit. I can't have a customer show up and ask why my backseat looks like someone was murdered.

Before I have time to come up with an excuse, they park their car and I realize it's Eric. I don't exactly want him asking me what the hell I'm doing either but it's better than if it was a stranger. At least with my coworker, I can come up with a bullshit story and he probably won't call the police.

Eric is whistling as he comes up the walk, checking his phone and swinging his keys around his finger. He stops suddenly and I force myself to take in a breath before I glance over my shoulder. He's staring my way with his eyebrows slowly drawing down. As soon as I turn my gaze away from him, he starts my way, dragging a sigh from me.

"Do you ever go to school, Baxter?" Eric asks as he comes to a stop beside my car, giving me a playful smirk. His expression shifts when he glances down at the red-tinged rags piled at my feet. I watch him take in the state of the backseat before he looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug, dropping my gaze back to the floor as I dunk another rag into the bucket of bleach. I probably should have worn some gloves or something cause I can already feel the skin on the back of my hands tightening but I try not to think about it.

"No," I respond before I duck my head and lean into the backseat again, scrubbing at the darker spots first before I rinse the rag again. I can feel Eric watching me the entire time and I finally exhale out a breath, flicking my gaze to his with a shitty grin. "Whenever you're buying red paint, always make sure the lid's on tightly when you leave. Otherwise, it ends up looking like you tried to murder somebody."

Eric's eyebrows draw down and he gives me a suspicious look. My skin prickles beneath his stare and I lean over to scrub more. He doesn't say anything while I'm in the backseat, only when I'm rinsing the rag out.

"You're using bleach on a paint stain?" he questions, his eyebrows rising when I look at him.

Shit. I didn't think about that. What kind of idiot would clean up a paint spill with fucking bleach?

"Dude, it was stubborn as fuck," I mumble, trying to shrug it off but I think he's noticed that my hand is trembling now. I can't explain to anyone why there's a fucking bloodstain on the backseat of my car. Even if I said that I rushed a friend to a hospital… Eric would still ask how the fuck they survived after losing that much blood.

Eric shifts against my car before he pushes away, giving me a shrug as he wanders off. Relief floods through me for a few seconds before I push it down and get back to work. Mom'll be here soon and I really want to get this over with. I'm tired of seeing this stupid stain and losing my breath over the feeling of Danny's warm blood coursing over my hands and his scream ringing out in the small office mom patched him up in. I'm tired of having something around that will only remind me of someone I won't get to see anymore.

I tell myself the tears stinging my eyes are from the bleach and not cause my mind is going places it shouldn't and I force myself back to work. I don't have time to have a full-scale breakdown or anything. I've got shit to do.

It takes three heavy doses of bleach before I manage to get the stain looking a little less like somebody bled out and more like something pink was spilled on my seats. It's good enough to pass off as an ordinary stain but I keep scrubbing anyway.

I'm almost halfway through the last set of rags I cut up when Alex's car pulls into the lot. I see him before Eric does but my not-so-quietly muttered "shit" under my breath draws my coworker's attention. I subtly kick the used pile of rags underneath the edge of my car before I go back to scrubbing.

Alex is quiet as he enters the shop and he speaks to Eric first before he looks my way, surprise momentarily crossing his face before he starts toward me. I only look his way for a few seconds before I'm focused on my job again, my hands stinging from the bleach now.

"You're not skipping school again, are you?" Alex asks, a joke to his tone as he comes to a stop beside my car. He hesitates a second before he lets out a quiet breath. "Listen, I'm… sorry for how I was acting yesterday."

He fidgets for a second when I manage to lift my gaze to his and it doesn't take long for him to look away from me, studying the concrete floor beneath us instead. "It's just… I was expecting to see Chuck again and…" He lets out a breath, looking up at me again with a shake of his head. "It doesn't matter. Point is – I shouldn't have reacted that way to you. If there's something you need to tell someone… you know I'm here for you."

I nod just a little before I drag in a breath that's tinged with the scent of bleach and the taste of the smoke from yesterday. And unlike Eric, Alex won't let me shrug off his concern and keep working. "Dash, wait a second." He grabs my upper arm before I can move away from him.

I exhale out, meeting his gaze before I drop mine to the ground, my fingers twitching around the rag. He looks from me to the car, his eyebrows drawing downward. "What are you doing?"

Shit, I wish he wouldn't ask me that. I wish he and Eric and everyone else in my life wasn't so concerned about me. I don't need anyone's concern. I can handle my own shit, I don't need help anymore. Even if all I ever do is fuck up with Danny and everyone that's ever been important to me – I don't need anyone's help.

"Just… cleaning up some paint," I mumble, shrugging as I tug my arm from him. I don't look at him as I get back to work but I slide my phone from my pocket to check the time. Great. Fifteen to nine… mom'll be here soon.

Alex watches me for a few seconds before he takes a couple of steps away from me and I'm relieved for about a moment before he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. I look toward him and my stomach fucking drops as he looks between me and the pile of rags he's dragged from under my car.

"Dash… what is this?" he asks, his voice soft on the question. I can't look at him with that tone to his voice and I hate that I'm blinking back tears again. Stupid fucking bleach.

I exhale, turning my gaze out into the rest of the shop with a shrug. "It's just paint, Alex." It's a really shitty lie and we both know it, but a small part of me hopes that he just goes with it. That he leaves it alone for fucking once and he won't tell me to explain or-

"Paint?" he questions, the disbelief clear in his tone. He's silent for a few seconds before he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, come on. You can tell me."

Goddammit, Alex, you're not making this any easier. He tries to soothe me by keeping his hand on my shoulder or telling me that it's okay. But I see an Audi pull into parking lot and I step away from Alex, desperately needing the distance.

I only look his way for a second before I grab the last rag from my backseat and ditch it in the pile of others I've used. There's still over half a bottle of bleach left but I don't have time to go a final time so I kick it out of my way.

"Thanks but… I gotta go," I say, sparing a glance at Alex before I slam my car door closed. God, why'd I have to try and take care of this bloodstain now? I should have done this shit in the dead of night when no one else was here.

Alex is looking out into the parking lot when I step past him. I don't have to feel the prickle of my skin to know that he's turned his gaze to the back of my head. Well… I guess mom's out of her car…

I exhale out, disturbing the quiet as I move things out of my way so I can back my car out of the garage. I just need to get my car out of here and leave with mom. Just get my car out and leave with mom. Just get-

"No one loses that much blood and lives, Dash."

Fuck. My breath sticks in my throat as I slowly turn around to look at Alex. I try to force my expression into something close to confusion but the illusion is destroyed by the shaky breath that escapes me.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I don't know why I'm asking him, it's obvious what he thinks happened. What he knows happened. Shit, I should've been more careful with this. I never should have come to the garage today.

Alex gives me a look like he can't believe I'd think he's that stupid. "Are you kidding me? You come in here yesterday, asking me to lie for you about a fire. And now you're cleaning up blood, pretending it's paint, and you ask me what I'm talking about?" he demands, gesturing to my car. "Dash, what the fuck is going on with you?"

This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this panic around Alex like I did yesterday. But it's back again – making itself known in the slight trembling in my fingers and the way my breath catches in my throat when I try to speak.

"It's… nothing. Just l-leave it alone," I respond, shrugging a little as I step past him. Alex tries to grab my arm again but I don't let him. "I need to go," I mumble, moving to the driver's side but he follows after me.

He stops when I groan and when I look back at him, he's staring out into the parking lot. I hear mom's footsteps against the pavement and Alex slowly looks back at me, his pissed-off expression clear on his face.

Mom stops near the edge of the garage as she props her sunglasses on the top of her head. She glances between Alex and I before she starts up toward the bay we're standing in. I swallow hard, not looking at Alex even when he clears his throat.

"Hey, I just gotta back my car out and then we can go," I tell her, waiting until she nods before I turn my back and open my car door.

Alex's voice is soft but it rings out clearer than any other sound in the garage. "What the hell are you doing here?" he questions. My chest constricts and I slowly breathe in before I look over my shoulder at mom. I try to give her an apologetic look but Alex continues. "Don't you think you've fucked with him enough?"

"Alex, stop," I say, turning around fully. He doesn't immediately look at me but his expression softens when he does. Like he's just sorry that I'm having to deal with this. "It's fine, alright? Just… relax. I'll only be gone a couple of hours. I can't leave my baby here overnight," I tell him, patting the roof of my car with a forced grin.

He gives me a look as his gaze shifts between the two of us, like he's trying to work out what he missed but whatever he's looking for, he apparently doesn't get. "You're going with her?" he questions, sounding more confused than angry. Fuck, right now, I think I'd prefer his anger.

I hold his gaze for a few seconds before I exhale out, flicking my stare to mom. "Why don't you… wait in the car? I'll be out in a minute."

Mom takes a final look between us before she nods and quickly leaves the garage. I watch her go for as long as I can until I have to look back at Alex. Cause I can feel the tension stretching between us like a cord waiting to snap. I hate that I have to have this stupid conversation but I know Alex will never let me go unless I do.

"Yeah, I'm going with her," I say, trying to get used to the taste on the way out. I don't want to do this. But a deal's a deal. She saved Danny and it's time for me to pay her back.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Why? I thought you were done with her. After everything we talked about, I thought you weren't gonna let her back in your life. Dash, you know you deserve better."

Fuck, I don't know how true that is. I made her beg me for months before I agreed to help her. And mom saved Danny because I asked her to on a fucking moment's notice. She took care of everything when I asked her to and I'm off setting fires I don't know how to put out and asking for favors I have no right to.

"Yeah, well…" I scratch the back of my head, shrugging a little before I turn back to my car. "I don't… really have time to explain but… maybe later," I mumble.

Alex catches my arm before I can get in my car and he holds me there, waiting until I look at him before he speaks. "What's going on?" he asks and I pull away from him. I can't stand here and talk about mom this way. The shit between us sucks but I never had a right to tell Alex any of it. It should have stayed between me and mom.

I collapse back against my car, gritting my teeth as I jerk my fingers through my hair. Fuck, I can't do this.

"Anastasia told me about the phone call when you stayed with her in her hotel room after the game." His expression is so serious when I manage to look back at him but it slowly melts into something close to understanding. But it's painted with every shade of pain I've ever seen in his expression before. "Dash… why would you go back to her?"

Fuck, I wish I could just tell mom goodbye and never see her again. Cause she's lied to me since the start of this fucked up situation but she saved Danny's life. And I'd give her mine in exchange if she asked.

"Cause," I mumble, taking a last look at my car before I slam the door closed again. "If you don't mind… I'll just leave this here for now and come back for it later."

He follows after me when I start out of the bay and I'm half tempted to break into a fucking run to get away from him. Why is he doing this? Why is he always so worried and concerned about me and why the fuck does he push me when it comes to mom and everything else that comes along with me? I don't need his help or his worry. I'm fine on my own.

"Dash, I can't… watch you do this to yourself," he says, stepping in front of me when we reach the edge of the garage. He shakes his head once, planting his hands on my shoulders. "You know you'll end up hurt so… why are you doing this? What – has she promised you something?" he asks, his eyebrows drawing down when I groan. "Has she threatened you?"

"No, Alex," I choke out, tears stinging my eyes again as I drop my gaze from his. I'd fucking love to believe it's cause of the stupid bleach again but I've barely slept and I don't want to go with mom but I have to and Alex is trying to help but he's just making this hurt worse and-

The sniffle I make is loud in the silence but I try to disguise it with a rough exhale. Alex doesn't buy it for a second and he's reaching for me, talking softly, trying to comfort me. God, I don't fucking need his comfort. I don't need him to tell me that everything's gonna be okay cause it's not. I'm going with mom and lying my ass off cause I asked her to save someone I ultimately ended up losing anyway. I don't get a way out of this and I sure as hell don't get a happily ever after.

I push him away with my hands on his chest but it only stops him for a second before he reaches out for me again. God, I'll fucking collapse if I'm in his arms and that's not what I need right now. I need to just… keep my head down and get the fuck through this. When I'm home alone, I can fall the fuck apart but not now.

"Just stop, Alex. I don't need anyone to-" I push him away with more force and he stumbles back a pace. He hesitates a second before he stops, keeping the distance between us that I've so desperately clawed for. I know he can see the tears in my eyes and the way I'm practically fucking choking but I can't do this now. "Stop trying to fucking help me. I don't need you, Alex. You're not my family, you're not… you're not anything."

His eyebrows draw down and I see the hurt flash through his eyes. Shit… I didn't mean that. For a moment, neither of us says a word and the silence claws at the inside of my throat. Fuck… I hurt him. Alex, I didn't mean to, I'm so-

Alex lets out a breath, slowly nodding. "Alright." He takes a few steps back from me and nods once. He starts back into the garage and I start away from it. My hands are shaking and tears are blurring my fucking vision and my jacket's still in my car but I leave it. I leave everything and cross the parking lot over to mom's car.

She's watching me, standing beside her car, but I don't look up at her. I slow my pace to a fucking crawl as I near where she is and I half-turn back to the garage. My heart hurts. It aches for the person I'm walking away from and I wish that everything was different. I wish I'd never come to the garage this morning.

My hands are still stinging from the bleach but I ignore them as I reach mom's Audi. She gives me a sympathetic look before I cross over to the passenger side. I don't want to talk about Alex or anything, I just want to get this shit over with.

I slam the passenger door closed as soon as I'm inside, letting out a shaky breath in the silence. I don't look up when mom opens the driver's door and the tension quickly becomes part of my every movement. I focus on buckling my seat belt, hating myself for the shit I always spit out without thinking about anyone other than myself. I hate how fucking selfish I am.

Mom doesn't say anything as she starts the engine but she nudges my hand gently before handing me a cup of coffee. I don't meet her gaze but I hear the smile in her tone as she speaks. "I figured you might… like some coffee."

I can barely nod and even though I want to say thanks and despite the fact that I already had a cup when I got up this morning, I force down a scalding mouthful in an attempt to drown the lump in my throat. It doesn't work and I turn away from mom as she starts out of the parking lot, cramming a fist against my lips to keep silent. Fuck, why does this hurt so badly?

The silence is crawling over me and I tug my phone from my pocket, finding Alex's contact in my recent conversations. I hate that I'm doing this over a fucking text message but I don't know when I'll be done with mom and I can't wait that long.

To: Alex

I'm so fucking sorry

I didn't mean that

You're not nothing to me I'm sorry

Fuck I'm sorry

Mom casts worried looks my way but I keep my gaze out the window, ignoring her concern. Maybe I don't need her or dad to be a part of my life anymore but I actually need Alex. I was wrong. I fucking need him – now more than ever – and that hurt look he wore replays in my mind on some kind of fucked up loop. Fuck, Alex, I'm so goddamn sorry.


We're still an hour away from Dryden when mom starts giving me the run-down of how this is supposed to go. She tells me what I should avoid talking about and what's okay to bring up. I nod to whatever she says, checking my phone every few minutes for a response from Alex, ignoring the rest of my text messages. It's really only Kwan and Keith that have texted me and I can't find it in me to care. I really fucked up with Alex and it's eating at me that he hasn't responded yet.

I try to listen to what mom's saying instead but after a while, I zone out and it doesn't take her long to notice. We shift into silence for a few minutes but mom turns on the radio before the quiet can pick at me.

The closer we get to Dryden, the more often mom turns down the volume to remind me of something. I nod like I'm listening but my head's barely in the moment, much less the conversation. I'm thinking about when I was in the hospital a couple weekends before the championship game. And how Alex stayed there with me. Kwan found me but Alex stayed with me at the hospital. Drove me to his place and let me crash there for the night. He's always been on my side and this is the fucking thanks he gets. Cause I'm a fucking asshole to people that care about me.

Mom cuts the music off entirely a couple miles into Dryden and tells me that we're only close to her attorney's office. I lean my head against the window, watching mom from the corner of my eye as she drives.

She's clearly nervous but she does a damn good job of hiding it. Better than I could manage. Nerves and anxiety tend to eat me alive but mom's keeping her cool – her frown and the crease between her eyebrows the only signs of tension in her frame.

I think I drift off somewhere between the highway and her lawyer's place cause the next thing I know, she's shaking me awake. Her touch is hesitant but she brushes the hair back from my forehead and I see the surprise on her face when I lean into her touch.

"Are you… okay, honey?" she asks softly and I wish I could be honest with her. I wish I didn't have to pretend that I'm doing better than I actually am. In a perfect world, I'd say that things have been pretty shit lately and that I fucked up so badly and I just want her to help me fix it. I'd say that I miss her even though being around her fucking hurts but this isn't a perfect world. My fuck-ups are mine to deal with and whatever shit mom's got going on in her life is hers to work out. Right now I'm paying back the favor she did for me, that's all.

I swipe a hand down my face, pulling away from mom as I one-handedly unbuckle my seatbelt. "Yeah… didn't sleep well," I admit, not having to feign the exhaustion in my tone. She watches me for a few seconds and I open the car door in the silence.

Mom waits until I've stepped out before she opens her door as well. There's a few seconds of silence where I'm crossing in front of the car and then we're both standing next to each other, staring up at the front of her attorney's office. And the reality slams into me, reminding me that this is fucking real. I'm actually standing here cause I'm supposed to tell a stranger about all the shit dad used to do to us. Only I'm supposed to frame it like I just watched it all happen. Like I never stood between her and dad, just trying to protect her, and that he never broke my jaw when mom was away because he needed something to get his anger out on.

"Just… try to remember what I've told you, okay?" she asks softly, letting out a breath. "I think you'll be talking to him on your own so… don't be nervous."

Don't be nervous… That's like telling me not to love cars, or the smell of rain, or Danny's smile, or the roar of the crowd during Friday night games. It's like telling me not to breathe and not to fuck-up every damn day. It's in my blood. Nervous and I make quite the pair, mom.

"Yeah," I mumble instead of any of the shit running through my head. I brush my hair back with one hand, exhaling out a pent-up breath. I don't want to do this. But I made a promise and it's time I make good on it.

I walk beside mom up to the glass door that she holds open for me. I step inside and wait for mom to follow me in. She lets the door fall shut behind us and glances around the waiting area before she leads me over to a couple of chairs.

Mom sits down in one and I uneasily sink down into the one beside her, taking out my phone almost immediately. There's still no response from Alex so I shift over to Kwan's conversation instead, more to keep my mind busy than actual curiosity about what he said.

From: Kwan

Hey, yesterday was kind of crazy but… no one's seen you since then? I called Danny but he said he didn't want to talk about it

What's going on? Did you guys have a fight or something?

First bell's about to ring…I'm guessing you're not coming in today?

Let me know when you get this? I'm coming to check on you later so don't make me worry until then haha

Seriously… please be okay, Dash

I wonder if he's thinking about the last time I didn't respond. When I ended up in the hospital, in so much fucking pain I could barely see straight. God, I wonder how often Kwan thinks about that or if that shit doesn't cross his mind until moments like this. When I don't respond to him cause I'm too busy obsessing over everything else.

To: Kwan

Sorry, I'm fine

You don't have to check on me

I'm not at home and I don't know when I'll be back so don't bother

I didn't have to say all of that but I feel the need to explain or make it right or fucking something. Cause I don't want Kwan to worry about me and I don't want to fuck up anymore. God, why do I fuck up so much?

A door down the hall opens and mom perks up, her eyebrows rising on her forehead as a pair of footsteps near us. A guy turns the corner and steps into the waiting area, glancing between mom and I before a smile softens his expression.

He looks like he might be mom's age, maybe a little older, but he's got more youth to his face than either of my parents do. His black hair suits his tanned skin and he looks more familiar than he should. Where have I seen him before?

"Cynthia, I'm glad you could make it," he says with a smile. "How's Jacob doing – any better today?"

Mom lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair to smooth it down. "He's… better, thanks for asking. Um, this is my… this is Dash," she says, looking my way with a smile that only I can tell is nervous. It's the same expression she wore every day that dad would come home, trying to turn over a new leaf again. There's an air of hesitance to her expression and only know what half of it means. I don't know who Jacob is but something tells me it's that guy who answered the phone when I called her the night before the championship game. Back when I thought I'd never do something like this. When I couldn't imagine myself sitting here, talking about this shit to a stranger.

Her lawyer gives me a smile, stepping over to me and extending his hand. "Robert Montgomery, it's nice to meet you, Dash. I've heard a lot about you."

I manage to swallow past the lump in my throat as I shake this guy's hand, blinking up at him in stunned silence. Mom's… told him a lot about me?

"Congratulations on winning the season. It's nice to see the trophy go to the Ravens this year. I've gotten tired of watching Elmerton and Livermore win it," he jokes, giving me a wink before he looks at mom. His expression sobers a little before he nods, looking back at me. "You're here to give your witness statement, yes?"

I silently nod, still caught on the football part. He's been following this season…? "Uhh… y-yeah, here for the uh… witness thing, yeah."

He gives me another smile that's way too fucking familiar and I realize why with a small breath that he picks up on. He raises an eyebrow and I hesitate a split-second before I exhale out. "Um… M-Montgomery, huh? You wouldn't uhh… you don't have a nephew do you…?"

Robert brightens, eagerly nodding. "I do! You're on the team with my nephew, Keith. He's a great player, isn't he? I haven't had the chance to come out and see him since last year but I've heard good things."

"Y-Yeah, he's… he's great," I mumble, scratching the back of my head in the silence.

He holds my gaze for a split second before he glances at mom. "I'll talk to Dash for a few minutes, get his statement, and I'll call you into my office when we're finished, alright?"

Mom nods and I stumble to my feet, focusing on not tripping the entire time he leads me down a long hallway. He stops in front of a closed door and opens it for me, beckoning me further inside. Anxiety is making itself known in the prickle of my skin and the way the breath sticks in my throat with every step I take but I can't turn back now.

I make it into his office in one piece and he closes the door behind us. Tall bookshelves loom on one side of the room and I wonder how many books are on both. They look like they're just filled for decoration but I wonder if he's picked out those books. If they're favorites of his or if they're law books. I can't read the spines from here and not knowing what they are picks at my skin even though it doesn't have a right to.

He starts over to a desk in the center of the room and beckons me closer. I manage to cross over to the chair in front of his desk but I practically collapse into it, my knees knocking together and my stomach churning.

"Thank you for taking the time out to meet with me, Dash. As a senior, you must be busy with school and figuring out your future, huh?" he asks, giving me a smile as he settles behind his desk. I barely nod and his eyebrows draw down for a second before he glances at the papers spread across his desk.

He leans forward, shuffling a few things around before he looks up at me, resting his clasped hands on top of his desk. "Alright, Dash. Have you ever had to give a witness statement before?"

I shake my head, a breath leaving me. Robert picks up on the sound and he arches an eyebrow. I have to look away from his expression, the nerves racing up through me. Fuck this isn't good. Chill the fuck out, just chill the-

"Ah… I've uh… never done this before. Little nervous, I guess?" I say, offering up my best attempt at what I'm sure is a shitty smile. God, why the fuck am I so dizzy? Shit, if I pass out in my mom's fucking attorney's office… that won't exactly help her.

Robert hesitates a second before he gives me a patient smile, nodding. "I understand. It can't be easy to talk about the things that happened to your mother." He drops his gaze to his computer, tapping a few keys on his keyboard and making a few mouse clicks before silence descends between us. I don't say a word while he frowns at a few things on his computer and my chest constricts painfully.

Right… I'm just a witness.

"Alright, Dash." He rests his fingers on the keyboard, looking up at me. "I need you to start with the earliest memory you have of the abuse. Do you remember the first time your father raised his hand to your mother?"

His fingers are poised on the keys and I'm fucking choking over everything I can't say. God, I want to correct him – say that it's not just my mom involved in this shit but she's asked me not to. She told me not to. Cause she's trying to protect me. Fuck, why does she have to protect me from this? Dad's gonna find out at some point that I'm helping her.

"Um… yeah, we were… on a beach. In Elmerton?" I mumble, looking up at Robert who's nodding, his gaze on his computer screen as he types. I exhale out a breath, running a hand through my hair as my gaze drops back to the carpet. "I think I was like… five. He um… th-they were arguing… over money or something. A-And he pushed … took me with her and she got us a hotel room in the area. And w-we were gonna leave him but… I don't know, we didn't."

I push out a breath, the tightness in my chest spreading through my limbs and making everything numb. Fuck, I've only just started and already, I can't breathe?

"Alright, and how often would you say that you saw any altercations between your parents? Did they fight a lot?" Robert asks, only lifting his gaze from his computer screen for a split second before he's focused again, nodding for me to talk.

God, why is all of this shit weighing on me now? I've known for a while that this day was coming… why didn't I think to fucking prepare for this? The car ride over here wasn't long enough, I need more time. I can't think. I'm barely thinking. I fucked up so bad with Alex… I fucking want Alex. I can't do this. I can't say a fucking word, I-

Robert looks up at me again, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Fuck.

I let out a low breath, dropping my gaze from his. "S-Sorry…" I mumble, hating myself for the way my voice cracks on the one word. "There was… uhh… it got worse over the years. It wasn't so bad when I was a kid. But he was really… fu- um. He was really violent when I was a freshman. He um… we ended up in the hospital multiple times that year cause of him. Little things would set him off and he'd just… he'd go crazy and go after her the second he came home."

He nods, typing everything I've said before he suddenly pauses, looking up at me with a curious expression. "Sorry, clarify for me. Did you both end up in the hospital because of him?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing. "I thought the abuse only happened to your mother?"

Shit.

I think he sees how quickly my face pales but I still try to save it, shrugging a little before I let out a low breath. "Uhh… he…" I shake my head, trying to keep the trembling in just my pinky finger before I try again. "He was never… violent with me," I lie, swallowing hard when Robert arches an eyebrow. "I mean, he like… yelled and stuff. And he pushed me once but… it was just my mom that he was… doing this to."

Robertgives me a look like he doesn't believe a word I just said and I can't hold his gaze for long. Shit. This is harder than I thought it'd be. And god, it's all a lie. Dad started this shit with mom but it didn't stay that way for long. I remember standing between them when I was eight-fucking-years-old. To protect her. Cause she's my mom and that's what you fucking do for your mom. God, I'm lying for my mom cause that's what you do. Fuck, is this what I'm supposed to do?


It doesn't take long for mom's attorney to get everything he needs from me and then he has me sign a bunch of papers before he calls mom into the office. The two of them talk about shit that makes no fucking sense to me but I nod along whenever they look at me, inwardly wishing I'd let Alex talk me out of doing this. God I feel sick.

Eventually, they start to wrap things up and I get to my feet when mom does, shuffling along behind her. Robertshakes my hand, congratulating me again on the Ravens win and I mumble my thanks before mom and I are heading out of the office.

Mom and I are silent on our way back to the car and I ease myself into the subtle quiet that's fallen between us. It laps like waves against my sand-riddled bones, washing away even the stubborn grains as I get into the passenger seat of mom's Audi.

I lean back in the seat, not looking at mom as she gets settled in the car too. I think she says something but that silence is crashing over me like waves and waves of the quiet I've been chasing after for what feels like forever now. And it's pulling at my bones and at my skin, wrapping me in its warm embrace.

I dip my shoulder lower, my head falling softly against the glass of mom's car window. That quiet turns to exhaustion and my body finally gives up, slipping into dreamland as if I know my way around there instead of only being a casual visitor.


That quiet is disturbed by the rumbling of mom's car and the soft thrumming from the radio. I don't know what's playing but it gently pulls me out of sleep and I can't resent it. I blink a few times, readjusting myself to the afternoon light, before I carefully look mom's way.

She's got her gaze focused on the road, a carefree expression on her face as she drives. Her hands are loose on the steering wheel and there's a soft smile on her face. Every now and then, she nods her head to whatever's playing on the radio and that one simple action reminds me of how things used to be. When we still lived under the same roof and she'd play records for me after dad would go postal on one of us, making me laugh late into the night just so I wouldn't cry. And how she'd make root beer floats after school for me and Kwan, and leave money for me to order pizza or go with Kwan to the comic book store across town. I don't know how things have changed so much between us but she tried then. She loved me then.

I shift a little against the window and count the breaths I draw in until mom turns to look at me. She's pulled her hair back into a ponytail and somehow it makes her look younger. Like how she always looked when I was a kid. When I'd come home and she'd be stained with paint and the marks dad left on her but she'd be smiling. God, she was always smiling.

Her expression falls for a moment before she gives me a bright smile that doesn't seem forced. "Hey," she says, shifting her gaze back to the road. "I figured you could use the rest."

"Thanks," I mumble, blinking back the last remnants of sleep before I stretch my arms over my head. I could probably sleep for another couple of hours, I'm so fucking exhausted… but mom's here and I don't know when I'm gonna get to see her again.

Mom lets out a soft breath, stealing a glance at me. There's almost complete silence between us for that moment and it's no surprise that I'm the one to look away. I've missed mom. But this is hard and I run away from every uncomfortable situation that's ever been thrown at me. I never fucking deal with anything and I hate that everyone in my life just fucking puts up with it.

"You hungry?" mom asks, completely breaking my train of thought. And I welcome the interruption. I don't want to think anymore about all the ways I've fucked up and how I'll most likely continue to fuck up. I don't want to be trapped inside my head, wondering about everything. I just want to be here with mom and talk about nothing.

"Yeah, I'm starving."


Mom and I stop at this diner just outside of Dryden and we both order way too much food for two people but we're laughing and the conversation is good and I fucking breathe it in. I've missed this. I've missed having a parent around that I can joke with and not have to worry about going too far and ending up bruised or trying to figure out what kind of game they're playing this time.

I listen to mom talk about work and I tell her about the championship game, feeling the pride burst inside of my chest when she smiles and congratulates me. She should have been there and it fucking sucks that she wasn't but it's okay. This is okay.

I'm almost finished with my second cup of coffee when mom hesitantly asks if I've heard anything else about the college scholarship. I swallow a mouthful of coffee that burns and roughly swipe the back of my hand across my mouth before I look up at her.

Mom's fidgeting nervously and I wonder if she can sense it. If she's realized that I found out what she kept from me. God, it's not like I would have left in my fucking junior year of high school, why the fuck did she keep this from me?

"Yeah, I have," I respond, dropping my gaze to the table for a second before I look up at her again. "I've heard a lot of things actually. From several schools now. And Coach doesn't think that we've heard from the last of them yet."

She hesitates a second before she smiles, nodding. "That's... really great. I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that you won't be living with your father after graduation. You should be out there, making something of yourself. You should never tie yourself down to one place, especially while you're young. You-"

"I haven't even accepted yet," I say, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. I see it in the way my words cut across mom like I've backhanded her. But if anyone has the right to feel like they've had the breath knocked out of them, it's me. These last few hours were going so fucking well but I can't leave it here. I can't walk away from this shit this time.

I push out a breath, flicking my stare up to meet hers. "Since when did you decide to cheer this on? What – did you realize it'd keep me from moving in with you or something?"

Mom's eyebrows draw down and she shakes her head. "What are you talking about?" She reaches across the table but stops just short of touching me, her hand falling limply on the table. "Sweetheart, you know I've always supported you."

"Is that why you told Coach not to tell me about the schools that came looking for me last season?" I question, watching the way her eyes widen. That's right, mom. I know. And you fucking suck at lying.

"Honey, I… never wanted you to… I was only trying to…" she trails off, her expression pinched as she draws in a breath. Her bottom lip quivers and I hate the way that my instant thought is to apologize. Fuck. Is she actually upset or is this some kind of fucked-up act?

I look away from her, drumming my fingers against the table. I stare out the window, watching the heavy clouds overhead that promise snow and exhale out before I turn back to her with a shrug. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm here now and I've got these opportunities. So, whatever."

Mom drops her gaze, nodding. Shit, she's so good at that. Sending me spinning from one fucking look. I want to apologize, tell her that it's okay or that I understand but she didn't even try to fucking deny it. Everything Coach said is true. She kept this from me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask her. My voice breaks on the few words I speak, destroying the illusion that I'm okay. Destroying the image that I'm untouchable. God, I wanna be fucking untouchable but mom knows how to fuck with me better than anyone.

She looks up at me, her bottom lip between her teeth and tears gathered in her eyes. Her expression is weary. Like she's practiced forever to hold back these tears but she can't any longer. I don't want to see her cry. I'll fucking break if I see her cry.

"Dash, I was… trying to help. I didn't want you to… get your hopes up. A lot… of schools look into athletes when they're young and then it… fizzles out. Nothing comes of it and I didn't want you to deal with that. I never wanted… to disappoint you," she says, every word causing her eyebrows to draw down further and more pain to flash across her expression.

I don't know how much of that's the truth. Am I an idiot if my desperate heart wants to believe every goddamn word she's said? Am I an asshole if I don't want to believe a fucking thing that comes out of her mouth? She's lied to me before, how do I know when I can trust her?

"Sweetheart, I never would have kept this from you if I wasn't trying to protect you," she says, reaching across the table again. This time, she grabs my hand in hers, trying to offer up a smile that's tainted with her sadness and I don't want it. I don't want any of this. "I was trying to protect you."

I pull my hand from hers, watching her expression fall. "You keep saying that," I say, everything in me thrumming as I stare back at the woman I used to share birthday cake with and go to the hospital with and fucking live with and I can't believe a thing she says. Cause she wants to protect me but she isn't. Her words are empty cause what she wants and what she's doing are different things and she doesn't fucking see it.

"You want to protect me but you know there was really only one way to do that. And you didn't." I watch her expression fall and I know my steel-tipped words cut through her like glass shards thrown at soft skin but everyone says that the truth hurts. She knows she didn't have to leave me with dad but she did.

I stand from the booth we've been sandwiched in for the past few hours and stretch my arms over my head. Mom doesn't move an inch but I can't stay here anymore. I'm tired. I just want to get home and forget that I had to do this today. I repaid the favor I owed her and now this is done. I never have to see her again and I'm trying to be okay with that but it still hurts. Cause she might be a liar and she might not be protecting me the way she claims to be but she's still my mom. Even if I don't miss the her that's here now, I'll always miss the her that was.

"We should head back. I got some stuff to do in a couple hours," I lie, shrugging my jacket on before I drop a couple of bills on the table. I don't know if it covers everything we've ordered today but I leave the diner anyway, my every footstep making my heart pound. Cause it's another step away from her and everything we used to be. This hurts like a stake through my heart but… I'm clinging to the hope that it won't hurt forever.


Mom doesn't take long in the diner and we're back on the interstate almost immediately. It's dead silent in the car and it isn't the kind I can relax into. This one cuts and burns, leaving my edges raw and jagged.

The silence is only punctuated when my phone vibrates from a text about fifteen minutes after we're on the road and I silence my phone almost immediately. Mom keeps her gaze on the road when I steal a glance at her before I sink down in my seat, quietly unlocking my phone and navigating to my text conversations.

My heart squeezes painfully when I see Alex's name on my screen. After everything I've put him through, he's responded to me. Even though I don't deserve a response after the fucked-up shit I said to him… his words are here on my screen, making me blink really fucking rapidly.

From: Alex

It's okay. I'm sorry too. And I hope you know I wasn't ignoring you. I left my phone in my car and forgot about it

Fuck, how does he make me feel better so easily? I was so fucking positive that I'd fucked-up beyond repair but he's saying it's okay and I really fucking want it to be okay. Cause I've known Alex almost as long as I've been in high school. He's saved my ass more times than I can count and he doesn't deserve this kind of shit form me.

Mom exhales out a heavy breath that disturbs the cutting silence we've been stuck in since we got back in the car and I hesitate before I look at her. She's frowning as she stares at the road and my stomach clenches at the silence that continues to stab at me.

"I want you to know… if there was a way I could have taken you with me, I would have. I never would have left you with him if I'd been able to keep you safe," she says, breaking her staring contest with the road to give me a short glance. "But he would have found us. And I couldn't imagine putting you through that."

My breath sticks in my throat and I want to tell her that going with her would have been better than dealing with dad after he realized she was gone but I can't say a thing. My paper tongue doesn't know how to do anything other than cut and I don't want either of us to lose any more blood. We've done enough of that my whole life. So I shape my tongue into something that won't hurt and cushion my words before they fall from my lips, hoping they don't bruise on the way out.

"I get it, mom. It sucks but I get it," I mumble, dropping my stare back to my phone when she looks my way again. I don't want to lie and say that it's okay or force words of comfort out of my broken lips when I barely know how to comfort myself. Alex was right before. I'm the kid, she's the adult. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and I wish that I had mom's help through this. But how am I supposed to get help from the person that's asked so much of me I'm already breaking at the seams?


The drive back to Amity Park feels like it takes twice as long with the stilted silence I can't seem to drift off into. I feign exhaustion and lean against the window for the rest of the drive and it keeps me from having to talk. Mom lets the radio play softly while I pretend to doze and neither of us says a word until we're pulling into the parking lot outside of Alex's garage.

"Thank you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks at me. Her expression is fragile, like one wrong move on my part will break her. "You have no idea how much you've helped me today."

I unstick myself from the window and slowly pull the seatbelt off of me before I manage to look at mom. I don't know what she wants me to say and I can only manage a weak shrug. "Yeah…" I casually mumble, glancing up toward the front of the garage.

It's only a couple of minutes past six but most of the lights are dark, save for one over a bay that Alex has pulled his Mustang in to work on. The sight makes my chest constrict and I'm instantly moving for the door handle of mom's Audi.

"Honey, wait," she says, grabbing my arm before I can get to the door. I hesitate a second before I look at her and her gaze is trained down at the floor. She slowly lets out a breath, only flicking her stare up to me momentarily before she's looking away again. "I'm… sorry."

I don't know what she's apologizing for and I don't really want to take the time to figure it out. I wanna talk to Alex, apologize in person instead of over a stupid text message but… it's mom. And I don't know how to leave her when she's like this.

I let out a breath, sinking back into my seat. I hesitate a second before I look up at her again. "For what?"

Mom drops her gaze from mine instantly, exhaling out a breath that shakes. "For everything," she whispers, immediately pulling me into her arms and wrapping me in a hug that hurts more than it heals. She's sorry now? For everything that's happened? Leaving me with dad and the shit Coach told me and… all of this? A few months ago, her apology would have been a fucking lullaby to my bruised and broken soul but right now it just stings.

I let her hold me cause I don't know how the fuck to pull away but god, I want to pull away. I don't want her to think that it's okay, I don't want her to think that I forgive her. Cause this shit still hurts like it was yesterday. And I don't want to push it all away and pretend that everything's okay. It's not okay. It's not. I can't fucking say it's okay, it's not o-

"I-It's okay," I mumble, giving her my best attempt at a smile when she pulls away from me. Her own expression shifts into a wide smile and I feel fucking sick watching her. This isn't okay. Fuck, why can't this just be okay? Why can't I accept her fucking apology and not need something more? I don't even know what the fuck I want from her but she saved Danny's life and she's apologizing and today was okay before I decided to be an ass back at the diner and… fuck, why can't I ever just be happy with what someone offers? Why do I always want more?


I stand in the parking lot of the garage for a while, watching mom's car disappear down the road – headed toward the interstate. Alex is still working on his car and I re-read his text response six times before I find the balls to head inside to talk to him.

Alex slides out from under his car almost as soon as I step into the garage and he slowly raises an eyebrow, his expression cautious. I don't say anything, my gaze falling to the ground as I come to a stop, and he gets up from his creeper.

There's a few seconds of silence before he crosses over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. We don't say anything at first and I can't bring myself to look up at him. Every fucked-up thing I said to him before I left is running through my head and shame crawls over me.

"I'm… sorry," I mumble, more to the pavement than Alex. I hope he can hear the sincerity in my tone cause I mean it. I never should have said that shit. Cause I didn't mean a damn word of it. He's more like family to me than my own flesh and blood. And I don't know why I spit those harsh words at him. He doesn't deserve that. He shouldn't have to deal with that shit from somebody like me.

Alex squeezes my shoulder gently. "It's okay," he says, even though it's not. Even though I don't deserve that kind of forgiveness. He lets out a breath when I won't look up at him. "Are you okay?"

No. Everything in my head is a jumbled, fucked-up wreck. I hate talking about the shit dad does to me. Even just telling Kwan is hard. And mom had me talk to a stranger about this shit. God, and he knows my fucking teammate. I wonder how this shit would have played out if I'd taken Keith up on his offer to talk to his uncle all those months ago. If I'd met with this lawyer before today, where would I be with dad?

I shrug, not sure what to say to Alex with all of the shit running through my mind, but he doesn't seem to need a response. He squeezes my shoulder again, gently shaking me before he steps back, his hand dropping from me.

"I was actually about to close up for the night," he says, turning around to face his car again. I chance a look up at him, taking in the oil and grease dotted on his shirt. He stretches his arms over his head, exhaling softly before he glances over his shoulder.

Alex meets my gaze before I have the chance to look away and I swallow thickly. I awkwardly shuffle in place, wanting to look away from him but not having the balls to actually do it. I don't want him to see anything in my expression that lets on how fucked I really am right now. I don't want anyone to know how much today fucked with me.

He lets out a quiet breath, looking past me and out into the parking lot for a few seconds before his gaze drifts back to me. "I need to head over to my cousin Javier's bar across town – he called me last night asking if I could come around and take a look at his car after work today," he says, shrugging once before he pulls his keys from his pocket. He stares down at them for a few seconds before he looks up at me.

"You wanna come with me?" he asks, his tone soft on the question and I find it hard to hold his gaze. I don't know if I have the right to say yes. I don't want to be alone but I don't have the right to tag along with Alex. I pushed him away and he's asking me to go with him. I don't have a right to say yes but I don't want to be alone right now.

I shrug, keeping my gaze on the pavement so he doesn't see how badly I want to get away for a while and forget everything. I barely look up at Alex as he puts his hand on my shoulder but he must get everything he needs from that one glance.

"Come on, it won't take me long to fix his car. Ride out there with me and I'll get dinner on the way back," he says, nodding when I look up at him. "Just give me a minute to close up here."

I should tell him no. I should make up some reason why I need to be at home or why I need to be away from him but I can't. I pushed him away and he's still taking me back. He's acting like it's not a big deal but it has to be. I said horrible things and maybe shit doesn't tear at him the way it does me but I know that this does. It has to.


The drive is quiet until Alex turns on a Spanish album that I don't understand but it's soothing and it helps put me a little more at ease. Even though it leaves far too much space for me to think, I don't find myself being driven insane by my own thoughts. Every time my mind starts going places I shouldn't think about in the small confines of Alex's car, I push my thoughts in a different direction. I'll have time tonight to overthink and torture myself with how Danny's voice sounded on the phone or the break in mom's expression when I told her she should have taken me with her.

I'm exhausted from the broken sleep and the time in the car with mom but I don't fall asleep while Alex is driving. I let my mind drift and I lean against the passenger window, watching the world zip by, but I don't sleep. There's too much waiting for me behind my closed lids for me to ever chance sleep so close to someone else.

The bar Alex pulls his car into is sort of familiar – like maybe I've passed it during one of my late-night drives. Alex's cousin, Javier, is nice and Alex is able to figure out what's wrong with the engine on his car in no time. After agreeing to bring it in over the weekend, Javier invites the two of us inside the bar.

Alex seems to hesitate and when his gaze drifts toward me, I guess he's worried about bringing me inside. So I'm the one to give Javier a smile and tell him that we'll stick around for a while.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Alex asks quietly as Javier leads us inside the bar. I give him a nod and something in my expression must convince him that I'm okay cause he lets it drop.

Javier leads us down to one end of the bar and calls out someone's name, instructing her to give us whatever we want on the house. That drags a smile into Alex's expression and he talks fluently in Spanish, ordering the both of us something that I can't translate.

"Don't worry, it's good," Alex says when the girl behind the bar takes off to fill our order. He leans forward, swiping a bottle cap from further down the bar, rolling it between his fingers as he keeps his stare away from me. "You want to talk about what happened with your mom?"

It stings worse than it should. He's just asking a question. He's just asking a damn question but my throat feels tight and I can barely drag in a breath without it shaking. I don't want to talk about her. I don't want to even think about her. Today went well, I guess. But it still has me so twisted up inside, I'm not sure I can say a word about it without making this whole situation bigger than it is.

"No," I practically whisper, swallowing hard before I chance a look at Alex. "I don't… really have anything to say about it."

In truth, there's too much I want to say about it. I want to tell him how it felt to lie to mom's attorney. How the look on her face after I told her she should have taken me with her still fucking stings even now. I want to tell him how the anger and the sadness are so closely tied to each other, I can't tell them apart anymore. I hate mom for leaving me with my dad but I get it. I fucking get it.

Alex is quiet as he nods and it isn't long until the server brings our food up. An oversized burger loaded with onions and bacon stares back at me and one look at Alex's face tells me how good it'll be. So I waste no time in digging in and try my fucking hardest to forget about everything else for now.


The conversation flows between Alex and I so easily, I lose track of the time and the bar starts to empty around us. When it's just a handful of people left inside the bar, Alex's cousin joins us, passing both of us a beer as he sits down.

Even though Alex's voice is firm when he tells Javier that I'm underage, it doesn't stop me from drinking. I've gotten wasted with my teammates more times than I can count. And it's not like there's anybody to stop me from this – my dad's the fucking police chief.

At first, it's just Alex and Javier talking about work stuff and then Javier brings up some childhood stories and adventures he had with Alex. It keeps me laughing and distracting me from all of the ugly shit around me so I soak it all up, feeling so fucking grateful that Alex invited me along tonight.

I'm coming back from the bathroom when I hear Alex's voice, pitched so softly, I know he's trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. But when Javier responds, I hear him say Alex's name and the word death so casually placed at the end that it shakes me. It rips the ground from underneath me and leaves my heart pounding. It stops me in my tracks and I'm frozen in the hallway between the men's room and the rest of the bar.

What is he talking about? What the hell is he talking about?

"You know you have to tell him, primo," Javier is saying, nodding when Alex manages to raise his stare from his bottle. "I mean it. You know as well as I do that he deserves the truth – he always has."

Alex lets out a heavy breath, dropping his head into his hands. "I know. And I'll tell him, just don't… don't let him hear it from someone else, okay? If he comes in here, don't mention it. I'll tell him just… not yet."

Alex pushes away from the bar and I hear him say my name but I can't move a muscle. I can't move a fucking inch. All the blood in my veins has turned to quicksand and the harder I try to fight against the panic, the more it sucks me in. What's going on? What hasn't he told me?

I duck back into the men's room before he can come near me. I lock the door and splash cold water on my face until I hear him knock. He calls my name through the door and after several deep breaths and a long look in the mirror, I find the strength I need to move again.

Alex raises an eyebrow at whatever look is on my face and from the way my stomach lurches, I almost feel like I'm gonna vomit. He says that we're leaving and I step out of his way, leaving the bathroom door open for him.

I can feel his eyes on me the whole way down the hall but I don't stop. I can't stop moving until I'm out in the parking lot, breathing in air that tastes of leftover cigarette smoke and far too much alcohol. Tell me what's going on. You can't keep me in the dark like this.

I twist my fingers around handfuls of my hair, trying to keep myself calm, as I stumble across the parking lot. I make it to Alex's Charger but I don't bother to test if it's unlocked. I just collapse against the passenger door, gulping down air like it's the last time I'll ever get the chance again.

My heart is pounding out of my chest and lodged in my throat at the same time but I manage to act calm enough when Alex comes out of the bar. He's staring down at his keys with a frown and I wonder if he knows. I wonder if the expression was clear on my face. Alex, please tell me you're not dying.

He gets in the drivers seat and only a second later, I'm buckled into the passenger seat, my every nerve ending on fire. I don't want to be the one to bring it up. I don't know how to bring it up.

"Javier's a good guy," Alex says, offering up a smile when I look at him. "He told me to let you know that you're welcome here any day."

He puts the car in gear and that's it. That's the most conversation he offers up and I know my fragile heart can't be the one to break the silence. I'll shatter if I know the truth. If he's breaking, then I'm already gone. I'm so fucking selfish but I can't do this without him.


It's a long, quiet drive back to the garage. Even though Alex turns the music on for a while, it doesn't sit right between us this time. It scratches at my skin and leaves me open, bleeding out on his seats and begging him to be the one to bring it up. That he asks me if I overheard it or if he tells me that I heard it wrong.

He pulls into a parking space in front of the garage, letting out a heavy sigh as he turns his engine off. There's a few, agonizing seconds of silence before Alex looks toward me and I imagine up every possible scenario of this conversation. I imagine the word death tossed around as easily as talk of cars happens at the garage. I don't know what to say. I'm not ready for this.

"I don't want to start an argument with you but… I just need to ask you one thing about what happened yesterday," Alex says, swallowing hard as I finally meet his gaze, the fear probably written all over my fucking face. "When you started that fire the other day… you had a good reason for it, didn't you?"

What?

I blink, not sure that I heard him right, until it hits me. He doesn't know what I heard at the bar tonight. He thinks the tension between us – that my spacing out – has something to do with the shit that happened yesterday. Or today. Everything that's not fucking important anymore now that this fear has made itself a home in my chest.

"Uhh… I… y-yeah. I have… a really good reason why I did it," I practically whisper, afraid to raise my voice and let him hear the way I know it'll crack. But I'm not lying – I did it for a good reason. I don't know if it was the right thing to do and I don't know if Danny will ever talk to me again but I had a good reason for starting that fire. I had to do it to save him.

Alex nods, shifting his gaze away from me and letting us fall into silence again. For a few seconds, neither one of us says a word. But he gives in with a heavy exhale and another nod before he looks back at me. "Then I trust you."

He's reaching for the door handle. He's gonna let this conversation end here. But I can't. Everything is slamming around inside of me and it's tearing at my sanity. I can't let him leave like this. I can't let him leave without knowing the truth.

"Alex," I breathe, afraid to speak for fear that I'll shatter. I don't want to know the truth. But I have to know the truth. "I-I overheard you talking at the bar tonight."

He drops his hand from the door, tilting his head to one side in question. For a few seconds, he doesn't make another move and I'm too scared to say a word. I don't want to know. I don't want to fucking know. Please don't tell me that you're leaving me.

"I-I… heard your cousin say something about…" I swallow as a hot flush creeps over me, finally forcing myself to meet his gaze. "A-Alex… are you dying?"

He closes his eyes, letting out a heavy breath as he leans back in his seat. Total silence encases the two of us and I can't breathe until he opens his eyes. Until he's looking at me and utters the one word I need to keep breathing.

"No," he says, a tone of finality to his voice that oozes out into another sigh he exhales. "I'm not dying, Dash. What you heard… has nothing to do with me."

I know what I heard. His cousin said his name. Why won't you tell me the truth?

Alex cuts me off when I try to interject with all my fucking questions and the look he gives me convinces me to stay silent. Even though there's so much I need to know. Even though there's so much I need to say. I'm scared, Alex. I'm so damn scared.

"Javier and I were talking about someone else," he says, reaching for his door handle again. He closes his hand around it but doesn't open the door yet. "Let it go, alright? It's not important."

I can't breathe in this silence and I know Alex can see it on my face. Even when I cut my eyes away from him and try my fucking hardest to calm down, I know he can still see it. I can't find a way to reign in this panic and I don't even fucking know why. He's fine. He said he's fine.

He lets out a rough breath and puts his hand on my shoulder, giving me a little shake. "Dash, I promise, it has nothing to do with me," he says, hesitating a second longer before he groans softly. "Look… it's not that big of a deal. My cousin and I were… we were just talking about my dad, alright?"

I look up at that but Alex's gaze is downcast now. He nods once, like he's summoning the strength from somewhere deep inside himself to keep going through this conversation.

"He passed away earlier this year. We were just talking about it," he says, hesitating a moment longer before he looks up at me. He has the nerve to force a fucking smile after a confession like that. "I promise, I'm fine."

I swallow hard but my voice still cracks on the few words I manage to spit out. "I didn't know."

Alex looks away from me then. His hand leaves my shoulder and when I finally get the nerve to look up at him, he's chewing on his bottom lip, staring out the windshield. "I know," he says quietly, swallowing hard before he finishes. "You didn't know cause I didn't want you to know."

He doesn't look at me as he opens his door and this time, he gets out. He doesn't close the door and I guess he's waiting on me to follow him out. But my legs are still weak from the fear coursing through me and it takes me a second to get out after him.

I close the passenger door and look at Alex from across the hood of his car. For a second, the only thing we can do is stare at each other until he recognizes the distance between us. Until he realizes that it's scratching at me and then he invites me closer with a simple nod.

"I'm sorry," I say, not sure what I'm apologizing for. I'm sorry that his dad's gone. I'm sorry that I didn't know. I'm sorry that I've made this about me when he's the one that needs soft words and quiet promises that everything's gonna be okay again.

Alex turns his gaze to the sky, a thousand emotions in his expression before he lets all of them go with a heavy sigh. He doesn't drop his stare to mine but he lowers his gaze just a little. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize."

I swallow hard, my hands nervously running through my hair and toying with the hem of my shirt. I don't know what to do in this silence. I don't know what to say. Whatever I'm thinking – whatever I'm feeling – doesn't matter in this moment.

"H-How's your mom doing?" I find myself asking before I really think it through. I almost lose the nerve to speak again when Alex looks at me but words tumble out before I can stop them. "Cause if… if you guys need anything, I can… I don't know, I can help out with something? If there's… something I can do, just let me know?"

Alex sighs heavily, looking away from me as he shakes his head. "My parents have been separated for years. She's fine, Dash," he says and it almost feels like there's a hint of resentment in his tone. Like he hates having to tell me that. I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't know. I didn't fucking know.

I try to speak again, convincing myself that I'm helping, but Alex cuts me off before I get more than a few words out. The silence falls between us again in the moments after he calls my name and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest when he won't look at me.

"H-How long has it been?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper on the selfish, selfish question. It's not my place to ask. I don't have a right to ask. But the words are out of me and I can't take them back now, no matter how hard I try.

Alex meets my gaze this time and there's such an intensity in his eyes that I choke. I falter over all my broken apologies and I can't find a damn word to speak. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot.

"The day that car almost fell on you," he states plainly, a moment of silence passing between us before he continues. "When you forgot to put the kickstands under the car you were working under? That's the day I found out."

Fuck. The ground almost drops out from underneath me and I hate myself for making this about me again. That's what was going on that day. That's why he was off – why he and Anastasia spent hours in his office together and that's why Anastasia spent the night with us. Their dad died. Their dad had just died and I go and make it about me.

Alex doesn't let me make an apology even though it's on the tip of my tongue, burning to get out. He cuts me off with a broken sigh that sounds heavier and more splintered than I've ever heard him sound before.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he says softly, meeting my gaze as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. "I hope you can understand that."

Of course. Of course I can fucking understand that. He doesn't want to talk about the day his dad died while I've spent the past few weeks bitching to him about my dad. The one that's still alive and despite all the fucking shit between us lately, he's trying. He's trying again and all I can do is fucking bitch about him. I can only imagine what I look like to Alex.

I nod, swallowing hard, keeping down everything that's threatening to burst out of me. "Of course," I practically whisper, not meeting Alex's gaze when he looks back at me. I don't want to make this about me. It's not about me. It's about him and whether or not there's anything I can do to help him. Cause he's always done everything for me.

"I'm here if you need anything," I practically whisper, shaking like a fucking leaf under his gaze. I didn't know when it happened but I know now. And I'll do anything he asks me to. Cause I was so fucking wrong before, Alex isn't nothing – he's everything to me.

He exhales out again and I catch sight of his breath hanging in the air between us, drifting higher and higher in the night sky until it disappears. Until I can't avoid looking at him anymore.

"I don't want you worrying about me," he says, his tone gentle but firm on the words. "I mean it, you have enough on your plate without adding my life to it. I'm fine, Dash. I don't need you to worry about me."

"I will anyway," I blurt out, swallowing hard when he sighs again. "I'm sorry, it's just… I-I care about you. And if something's going on, I-I want to help."

He chews on the inside of his lip in the silence that's fallen between us and there's a few, long seconds before he makes a move. He nods toward the garage, taking a step away from me. "Come on, you should get your car out of here," he says, starting away from me.

I stare after him but I don't let him get too far away before I'm following after him. I don't know if he'll talk to me about his dad and how fucking horrible he must be feeling. I don't know if he doesn't want to tell me cause of the shit I'm going through or if he just doesn't want to tell me. I tell him everything but maybe he doesn't see me the way I see him. It doesn't matter if all that he says is just an ember or if he spills a whole goddamn fire at my feet – I'll be here for him either way. He hasn't given up on me, there's no way in hell I'm giving up on him.


I don't know what time I fall asleep but it feels like I've only been sleeping a few hours when my alarm goes off in the morning. I blindly turn it off and go through the motions of the morning – shower, get dressed, get out the door.

Kwan's texted me a bunch but I don't feel like responding to any of it yet. I'll see him at school and I know he'll figure out that I'm fucked from one look at my face. Danny isn't gonna talk to me today so I don't bother paying attention to what I put on – I just get dressed and start downstairs, ready to get the bullshit of today over with.

Dad's waiting for me in the kitchen and even though I try to slink out unnoticed, he calls my name and I'm forced to retrace my steps. I drop my shoes and backpack in front of the door and start back for the kitchen, the exhaustion present in my movements.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asks, his expression concerned like he cares. Like he's ever cared. I don't know anymore – maybe I've always just been so fucking ungrateful. Alex's dad isn't here anymore and I should learn to fucking appreciate my own cause at least he's still alive.

I shrug, running one hand through my hair before I adjust the toggles on my sweatshirt just to give myself something to do. "Yeah, I guess."

He hesitates a second before he holds out a paper bag toward me. "Here," he says quietly and the hesitation in his tone isn't lost on me. He's nervous… but I have no fucking clue why. This is my dad – he doesn't have anything to be nervous about.

"I made you lunch," he says, a smile easing into his expression as I take the bag from him. He stands a little straighter, his smile widening. "It's not much really but… I thought leftover steak might be better than the cafeteria food."

I'm torn. I don't know what kind of game he's playing here. I've never asked him for anything like this – and he's never done this before. What did I do? What does he know that I did? What kind of trap is he setting for me?

"Dad…" I trail off, my grip on the bag tightening as I look up at him. Everything in me is screaming at me to just shut up but I find the strength to talk cause I know if I don't, this shit will pick at me until the day it all stops. "You're cooking me steak, home every night, and now you're making me lunch? What's this about?"

He drops his gaze from me, his expression pinched as he lets out a quiet breath. Everything about him is quiet today and I don't get it. He's never made a fucking effort to be quiet before. What do you know? What are you trying to catch me in?

"Son… there are things between us that I can't change. Things I've done that are… unforgiveable," he says, looking up at me as a breath rattles from him. "And there's nothing I can do but apologize to you. For everything."

What the fuck?

Dad nods like he wasn't waiting on me to say anything and I guess he wasn't. He starts talking like he's had this whole thing fucking planned and he doesn't miss a single point in his mind. He hits everything and I nearly hit the floor at everything he confesses.

"I've screwed up with you a lot, Dash – your mother too. And there's no excusing it and no denying it. I was wrong – all these years, I've been wrong," he says, looking up and it scares me. The honesty I can see in his eyes is terrifying, shaking my every foundation. He means this. Why the fuck does he mean this?

My throat is dry and it hurts to speak but I make myself. Cause I have to know. "Dad… where's this coming from?"

He won't look at me at first and that scares me more than it should. I can handle his anger – his rage – but this… I don't even know what this is. How am I supposed to deal with something that I don't even know? My childhood has always prepared me for his harsh words and angry blows. It's never taught me how to handle his splintered apologies and hesitation. I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do, dad. Tell me.

"The station got a call a few days back," dad says, heaving a huge sigh but refusing to look at me as he shakes his head and keeps going. "A couple of campers up by the river that separates Elmerton from Amity Park noticed something floating in the water. They didn't know it was actually someone floating in the water."

Dad swallows hard and when his eyes fall closed again, I feel my hands start to shake no matter what I try to tell myself. There's no reason for this panic. There's no fucking reason for this panic. Yet I'm panicking cause it's all I know how to do. It's all I'll ever know how to do.

"I was the one who had to tell the boy's parents that he was gone. That the pathologist had found a suicide note on his body and…" dad lets out a sigh that shakes and when he looks up at me again, the sight of tears in his eyes makes my blood run cold. "All I could think of was you. How I've wasted so much time with you and how… you're still here. After everything I've done to you, you're still here."

He gruffly exhales out, taking half a step toward me that I match with one step backward. He stops then, his shoulders falling as we hold each other's gaze and I hate this. He's trying to apologize – or tell me what's pushed him to this point. I don't know how to react. I don't fucking know.

"I know that I've screwed up a lot, son. I know that," he breathes, his expression pinched as he watches me. "But I want to fix it. I want to fix us and if you'll let me… I promise, things are going to be different around here."

I don't want this. I don't want any of this. I've waited so long for dad to fix things but I don't want it anymore. I'm too selfish for this. I'm way too fucking selfish for this. It's not enough. Your apology isn't enough, dad. Look at me – look at what I've become because of you. Tell me how an apology fixes any of this.

"Dad, I…" I can't do this. I can't stand here and pretend that everything's okay between us. That his simple words fix all of the broken parts of me. I stuck by him cause I never had a choice. Mom left me here but I would have gone with her in a heartbeat. I don't want to do this anymore but he's all I have. He's all I've got left. Alex and Anastasia don't have their dad anymore. I shouldn't fucking waste this chance but I can't do this.

I look away from him, afraid everything running through my mind will suddenly show on my face and he'll see right through me. He'll see how badly I just want to get away from him. I don't want this anymore. It's too late. It's too goddamn late.

"I'm… gonna be late for school," I manage to say, and I can't lift my stare up to his again. I don't want to see the expression on his face and I don't want him to see the look in my eyes. I know he'll know the way that I feel with one look into my eyes so I don't give him the chance.

Dad doesn't say anything as I leave the room and I don't fucking know why but it stings. He's apologized. He wants to fix this shit between us. That should be enough. It should be enough. But I'm selfish. I'm too caught up in what I want and I can't ever just be happy with what I've fucking got. I always want more.


I'm late getting to school. Despite leaving on time and not making any stops, I'm late for biology. I took a few back roads and ended up screaming at the sky, asking for some kind of sign that this isn't one of dad's traps but it's gotten me nowhere. I don't know anything.

Fate must have it out for me today because the only person still in the parking lot when I pull my car in is Danny. He's sitting on the trunk of his car, staring down at his phone screen, and I know there's no avoiding this. He has a right to be angry with me – he has a right to fucking hate me – but not today. Please don't do this today.

I get out of my car, backpack on and heart in my throat, and make my way across the lot and up to the front doors.

Danny calls out to me before I make it to the stairs and I don't know if it's the conversation with dad or what Alex told me last night or all of mom's fucking shit but I snap. I feel it all bubble up inside my chest and it comes out in a rush of words hurled at Danny that he doesn't fucking deserve.

"Please not today," I cough out, turning to look at him, my heart pounding in my chest as everything in me starts to shake. "Please, Danny, I know… I know that I fucked up and I know that you hate me but please… just give me until tomorrow? I… I can't do this today."

I turn for the door again, too ashamed of the tears pricking in my eyes to even hear his response. But he calls my name again and I stop. Cause his voice is soft and my heart is so fucking hard lately. I don't want to fight with him. I can't fight with him.

"Come here, you idiot. I'm not going to yell at you," Danny calls again, and even though he doesn't owe me that kindness, I take it. I give in to him and leave the stairs, moving over to his car in a heartbeat.

He passes me a cup of coffee as soon as I've collapsed on the trunk of his car and I stare down at it, trying to understand what he's doing. If he's buying me coffee, surely he doesn't hate me. Or maybe this is just a way to soften the blow.

Danny sips from his own cup, leaning back on his trunk in such a carefree way, I can't help but envy him. I know his life isn't perfect. I know he's got his own shit to deal with but I fucking envy him. He makes this look easy and I'm fucking drowning. Teach me how to swim, Danny. I can't do this on my own.

"I was wrong," he says softly and when I chance a look at him, he's staring down at his cup like it holds all the answers. Like everything he needs to say in this moment is somewhere in his coffee.

He blows out a breath, looking up at me with a screwed up look on his face. "Dash… I feel horrible for what I said to you the other day," he says softly, driving me fucking wild when he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. "You were just trying to help me and you thought you were doing the right thing and I…"

Danny sighs, shaking his head as his gaze drifts away from me. "The thing is… I don't even know what the right thing is anymore. Maybe the fire got those agents looking in a different direction. Or maybe this is just going to lead them right to me." He looks at me again, shrugging as a shaky laugh leaves him. "I don't know. I don't know anymore, Dash. I just know that you were trying to help me and I threw it back in your face because I'm scared."

I don't know what to say but I'm scared too. I'm terrified that I'll get another call from him in the dead of night and this time, I won't be fast enough. This time, I won't be able to save him. I'm doing everything I can to help him. And maybe I'm wrong but I'm trying. I don't think that I can stop myself even if he asks me to.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, looking away from him as I fight against the fear springing to life in my chest. "I should have asked you first and I… I don't know what I was thinking. I just couldn't watch something else happen to you."

He groans softly, scooting closer to me. "I know," he says softly, leaning against me a little. "The point is… I appreciate that you're trying to help me. I've just been so scared of doing the wrong thing that I took it out on you and I shouldn't have. It's just… I've never had anyone do something like that for me. I've never had anyone care this much."

I don't just care about you. Danny, I love you. I fucking love you. And I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry that someone like me has fallen for someone like you. This will never work. But I want you so fucking badly and I'm too damn selfish to let go of this dream.

I end up with my head in my hands, my coffee abandoned in the space between us. I link my hands behind head, trying to steady my breathing but I know Danny can hear it. It's too quiet in the parking lot for him to ignore this.

His hand on my back is startling but it's warm and I'm so goddamn cold. I lean into his touch, dragging in oxygen that feels like some kind of hit as it enters my lungs. I don't know where to start but when he softly asks me what's going on, I find myself spilling words that should never have left my mouth.

I tell him about my dad and how things have been so fucking weird between us. I tell him that dad actually apologized to me and that I don't know what to do. That I'm so fucking confused, I just want this all to go back to the way it was. I'd take his punches and his anger rather than his hesitation and his apologies. I don't know what to do with them and I don't fucking want them.

Danny waits in silence, giving me the space to talk about anything other than my dad but that's all I've got. I can't make it through a conversation about my mom without splintering and everything with Alex doesn't sit right on my lungs when I think about it. His dad's gone and I'm bitching about mine again. Cause I'm selfish. Cause I'm always selfish.

"What are you gonna do?" Danny asks softly and I don't know how to answer him.

I don't know what I'm doing from here. I want to believe my dad. I want this shit between us to be over. I don't want to come home every day, wondering if I'll end up in the hospital by the end of the night. I'm eighteen now. I can move out whenever the fuck I want to but where would I go? It's not like I can afford my own place. And I can't be someone else's fucking problem.

"I don't know," I admit, running my hands through my hair before a shaky sigh leaves me. "It's… weird, Danny. It's really confusing right now and I don't… I don't know what I do from here."

He leans against me again, his warmth making me lean into him – making me want him. The butterflies don't have a fucking right to show up now but they're electrified in my gut, making me feel so fucking alive in this moment.

"Danny, I thought… I didn't think you were ever gonna talk to me again," I breathe, shame crawling over me at the tears I can feel behind my closed lids. I don't want to do this now. I can't do this now. But I'm doing it and I know Danny can tell how close I am to breaking.

He tsks softly, tugging me into his open arms and holding me against his chest. My arms fit around his back and I cling to him like he's the only thing I've got left. I don't know where I go from here. I don't know what happens from here. I just know that I can figure it out as long as I've got Danny. If he's still with me, I know I can face down anything.


I stay in the parking lot with Danny for as long as we can both spare but he tells me that he'll be late for an appointment with his therapist if he doesn't leave so I let him go. I don't want to face school alone but I go inside cause I know that I can't go home right now. I can't be back in that house until I figure this shit out. Until the thought of seeing dad again doesn't make my heart jump inside my chest.

My social studies teacher acts like I've committed the greatest sin on the planet when I walk into his class cause I'm a couple of minutes late. I want to ask him what the fuck the big deal is cause it's one stupid class and I've been busting my ass since this school year began but I don't say anything. I just let him get all his anger out until he runs out of steam and lets me go.

I collapse into a seat beside Keith, giving him a look when he raises his eyebrows. He takes in my expression before he moves his backpack to his desk and hides his phone behind it. I only watch him type for a few seconds before I move my backpack the way his is.

My phone vibrates in my hand as I tug it from my pocket and I switch the ringer off so the teacher won't have something else to yell at me about.

From: Keith

Is everything okay? Kwan seems worried about you…

Of course he's worried about me. I've barely talked to him the past couple of days and I skipped school two days in a row. I get it. He's worried cause I don't do shit like this. If I'm not coming in, I text him. Kwan shouldn't have to fucking worry about me and if I was a decent fucking person, I would have responded to the texts he's sent the past couple of days.

To: Keith

Don't act like you're not only concerned cause Kwan's involved ;p

I try to play it off cause I don't want to deal with this shit right now and judging from how Keith reacts, I guess I made the right call.

From: Keith

Hey! That's not why I'm asking

His red face would have me believe otherwise. I badly conceal my snort and the teacher looks back at the two of us. Years of practice with dad has me able to shift my face into a neutral expression, mastering the art of pretending like I'm staring off into nothing.

I wait until his attention is on the rest of the class again and he's rambling on about whatever shit we're supposed to be learning today before I turn back to my phone. I can feel Keith giving me a pointed look and I almost lose it again at the text he's sent me.

From: Keith

Shut up, I hate you

To: Keith

You make this too easy, Keith

From: Keith

Ugh

From: Keith

Seriously though

From: Keith

You okay?

I lean back in my seat, lifting my gaze to the classroom as everything that's happened lately hits me again. Shit is so fucked up right now. Everything with my dad and my mom is tearing at me and I hate that I'm not supposed to be worrying about Alex when he's all I want to fucking focus on. And Danny… god I almost fucking lost Danny. The last good thing about my life almost slipped from my hands but he's too kind for his own good and he's giving me another chance. And if that's all I focus on, I'm not lying when I answer Keith's question.

To: Keith

Yeah, I'm good


School lasts forever. Kwan ends up skipping a class to sit with me during my spare and I tell him more than I told Danny. I spill my fucking guts about my mom and everything dad said to me today comes tumbling out too. I don't know how I keep my sanity but once I make it through the conversation and we go our separate ways for classes, I know I can't stick around for the rest of the day.

I end up driving around for hours, trying to outrun this loneliness or whatever the fuck's wrapped so tightly around me but it doesn't work. I just end up running out of gas and almost breaking down in the fucking parking lot of the gas station cause everything is hitting me again.

Even though all I want to fucking do is be at the garage, fixing things that can actually be fixed, I don't want to push Alex. If I was him, I think I'd want space so I give it to him and I go home instead. And even though dad's not there yet, it doesn't fill me with the relief I so desperately need.

I spend the rest of the day curled up on my mattress, alternating between listening to old boy-band playlists and scrolling through Facebook. Thinking makes my chest ache but I can't keep my mind from wandering over everything that's happened.

I don't know what time it is when dad comes home but I'm still laying on my bed in the clothes I went to school in, my shoes and backpack discarded on the floor. I'm back to scrolling through Facebook and I silence the playlist when I hear dad on the stairs.

It's too soon to see him again but it's too late to run away now. This is one thing I can't run away from. Like it or not, I have to face dad and make a fucking decision about this shit. I'm not capable of controlling the way my heart will pound whenever he's near but I take a deep breath to steady myself and turn to look at the door when he opens it.

Dad raises an eyebrow at me and I glance back at my phone to catch the time. It's just past ten and I barely remember when the sun dipped behind the clouds. I've been laying here so long, I don't remember the last thing I did when I came inside earlier.

"You feeling alright?" he asks, taking the few strides to my bed. I should feel more nervous at his closeness but I don't. Maybe it's everything he said. Maybe it's everything he didn't.

I shrug, flicking my stare up to his with a hard swallow. He frowns, brushing the back of his hand along my forehead and I close my eyes at the touch. "Are you sick?" he asks, his touch lingering on my skin. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever."

Dad's touch is gentle for fucking once and I let myself cling to it for a few silent seconds before I push out a breath and look up at him. "I'm okay," I mumble. I feel like I should offer up a smile but I know it'd be weak and I'd look pathetic.

My stomach decides now is the time to join the conversation and lets out a loud growl. Dad's eyebrows draw down further and he exhales out, his hand dropping from my forehead. "Well… I brought home a pizza. You feel up to having a slice with me?"

In truth, I could go for the entire damn thing. I don't know if I'm ready yet to sit in a room with dad again – not with the weight of everything he said pressing down on me. But… it's dad. Who knows how long this change of heart will last or when I'll ever get this chance again?

"Yeah, okay…" I mumble, gingerly sitting up when he takes a step back from my bed. He gets to the door before I speak again, my voice a little shaky with every word. "Can we uhh… can we watch a game or something?"

Dad frowns for only a second before his expression brightens and he smiles. A real smile, not something he's forcing for my benefit or for anyone at work. This expression on his face is the way he used to look. Before mom left. Before he started using me as his punching bag. God, even after that. The same expression he wore when he used to take me fishing and cheer me on at every little league game I ever played. He looks like my dad again and it's killing me.

"Sure, son. Whatever you want."


I don't know how long dad and I hang out together, eating pizza and talking about school and work before I start to drift off to sleep. I'm dozing against the armrest of the couch when dad gets up, jostling me in the process.

Dad gives me a smile when he sees my eyes flutter open and he drapes a blanket over me. "Get some rest, kiddo. I'll see you in the morning," he says. His words are the last thing to register in my mind before my mind gives in to the blackness and I slip into a cold, hard sleep.

I think I dream once I'm asleep but it's all dark figures and shadows – completely undistinguishable from the rest of the blackness. Alex's face appears a couple times and it almost drags me from sleep but I crash back into the darkness after a few seconds.

A couple of times, dad's voice breaks through the veil and I barely open my eyes before his tone is gone again. It isn't until his loud, angry voice sounds that I wake with a start, a cold sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

I bolt upright on the couch, my bleary stare taking in the living room at once. Dad's standing by the front door, his gaze cast my way, the sunlight streaming in through the open door. I have just enough time to run a hand down my face before someone else's voice cuts through the noise.

"Baxter, you better let me fucking talk to him."

Dad's stare lazily drifts to the front door again and he arches an eyebrow. "Hugh, I don't have to do anything." Hugh…? What's Paulina's dad doing here? Dad glances my way before he nods toward the door again. "You can see him when you've cooled off. You need to calm down."

"Fuck, Howard! Put yourself in my shoes," Hugh demands. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now? He fucking owes me an explanation."

I swing my legs off the couch, giving dad a questioning look when he looks my way. I take a few steps toward him and he shakes his head. What the hell is going on?

Hugh suddenly pushes against dad and manages to slip past him, stumbling several paces inside the house. For a second, we just stare at each other, and I try to figure out why the fuck he's here and why he looks pissed as hell but he charges toward me before I can.

"You fucking son of a bitch," he spits, taking a swing at me. I duck from his badly aimed hit and look past him, at dad, my mind running at hyper-speed, trying to figure out why Paulina's dad is aiming for me. What the fuck is going on?

I stumble back a few paces, holding my hands out toward him. "Wait, what's… what's going on?" I ask, glancing toward dad again. Hugh manages to clock the underside of my jaw and dad calls his name before he pushes Hugh back a pace. His gaze sweeps over my face before he turns his back to me, standing in between me and Hugh now. Dad folds his arms over his chest and stares hard at him.

They have an entire conversation with one look but I'm left in the dark. I don't exactly miss getting punched by my ex-girlfriend's dad but I don't understand what the fuck is going on. And after all the fucking shit I've been through lately, I think I deserve to know why someone's throwing punches at me.

Hugh shifts his gaze to mine, his eyebrows drawing down when dad moves in front of me more, blocking my body with his, and it makes the breath stick in my throat. He's… protecting me. I can't remember the last time dad stood up to someone for me but he's doing it now. After so much goddamn shit has happened, he's protecting me.

"Go home, Sanchez," dad says and I watch Hugh's expression twist into something ugly before he scoffs, jerking his head toward me.

"Maybe someone should have told him that. Then we wouldn't be in this fucking mess," he spits and I can't stay silent anymore. I don't know what the fuck is going on but I hate that he's talking about me like I'm not even here.

My voice trembles on the few words I say but they're enough. "What's going on?"

Hugh meets my stare with his cold one and I audibly swallow under the look he's giving me. Shit, what the hell is he so pissed about for?

"You got my daughter pregnant," Hugh says, his tone and expression cold as my entire fucking world shifts. Pregnant… what the fuck? I haven't been with Paulina for months how can… fuck. Shit, how the fuck did this happen?

The floor drops from underneath me and I think I stumble back a pace but I'm not entirely sure. I open and close my mouth so many times but nothing comes out. The only word my mind keeps hammering over and over again in my mind is pregnant. How the fuck can she be-

"I better never see you around my daughter again. If I see you with her, I'll kill you, you understand? I'll fucking k-"

"Hugh, that's enough!" dad shouts over him, stepping between us again when it looks he's gonna come after me. They stare at each other for a second before dad sighs, pointing at the door. "Just get out of here, Hugh. Come on, just go."

There's a split second of silence before Hugh leaves, his every footstep loud and pounding against the floor. The breath that leaves me is rattling and my legs are trembling beneath me. I don't know how but I find my way back to the couch and sink down on one end, not even sure if I'm breathing anymore.

Dad stands in front of the door, watching as Hugh disappears down the walk, and I can't think straight. I can't make sense of any of this. I end up with my head in my hands, my fingers twisting around strands of my hair as I try to breathe this in. As I try to accept it.

Paulina's pregnant. That's what this comes down to. My ex-girlfriend is pregnant. Holy fuck, she's pregnant. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't fucking do this, I never thought this was ever a possibility. We've always been careful, how the fuck did-

"Dash," dad's voice cuts through the silence and I look up at him. He gives me a look like he's been trying to get my attention for a while but if he has, I never heard a word. My brain's too clogged up with all of… this.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard before he lets out a breath. "I'm guessing she hasn't talked to you about this yet," he says. I don't know if he's waiting on some kind of response but I can't form a single thought in my head other than Paulina.

Paulina.

I need to talk to her. Even if she didn't plan on telling me before, I know now. And I think we owe it to ourselves to talk about this shit. I don't know what the fuck needs to be said but I know she'll know. God, I hope she knows.

Dad takes a step back when I stand from the couch, my legs quaking under me with every step I take but I manage to make it halfway up the stairs before he calls my name. I look back at him but there's nothing I can say. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I'm bounding up the stairs again, searching for my phone as soon as I step foot into my room.

I sink down onto my bed, every part of me on fire as I open the last conversation I had with Paulina. On my birthday. When she offered to have a slice of fucking cake with me. Fuck, how long has she known? My hands are shaky and my leg bounces nervously as I type. I have to rewrite my text a million fucking times before I just hit send and literally hold my fucking breath as I wait for her to type back.

To: Paulina

Your dad just came by, yelling at me. Paulina, the shit he was saying… is it true?

I run a hand down my face, staring down at my screen in fucking agony as I wait for her response. I only move to change my clothes when the silence starts to scratch at me. How long has she known? Was she ever going to tell me? How the fuck am I supposed to be a dad?

My every thought chokes me and I start to panic, clutching handfuls of my hair and pacing back and forth in front of my bed. How the fuck do I do this? What am I supposed to say? We've always been so careful every time we've been together, how did this happen?

I practically break my neck to get to my bed when my phone vibrates softly against the mattress. I grab the device up, my heart hammering in my chest as I try to keep the panic at bay for a little while longer.

From: Paulina

Is what true?

Shit. She wasn't gonna tell me. Oh fuck, how do I do this? How do I tell her I know? Fuck, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to fucking do this.

I pace my floors again, clutching my phone in my hand as I walk, thinking over every possible response I could give her. Everything my mind is coming up with is too blunt and it makes me sound scared. Fuck, I am scared.I've never done this before. And I'm so fucking scared.

We need to have a conversation about this but I can't find the fucking words to type a goddamn text. My heart is pounding and panic is starting to scratch at my insides with every passing second. I can't do this. I can't fucking do this.

To: Paulina

He said you're pregnant

My heart slams around inside my chest painfully and I sink down onto my bed, my hands shaking and my breath trembling. I drop my phone on my bed and knot my fingers in my hair, trying to keep from fucking panicking over this.

Fuck, I don't know the first thing about being a dad. What does this mean for her? What happens now? Can she graduate high school with this baby? Can she go to college with this baby? …can I?

I've only had the possibility of getting out of Amity Park and playing for a college team for a couple of weeks. It's selfish but I can feel this chance being ripped away from me and I don't want to let it go. I want go after this with everything I've got and show everyone that I can do this but… I can't leave Paulina to do this alone. Maybe she never planned on telling me, maybe she was gonna keep this from me but… I know now. And I'm not gonna leave all the responsibility on her.

My phone vibrates softly and I let out a breath, slowly letting go of my hair. I lift my head just far enough to look at my phone screen but I don't read the words she's sent back. It doesn't matter if she was never gonna ask for my help or tell me that she's having my kid. I have to be there for her. This is my responsibility too.

I stretch one arm out to grab my phone, steeling myself before my shaky hand brings my phone close enough for me to read her response.

From: Paulina

Dash… we should really talk in person. Can you meet me somewhere?

It's not what I expected and it only renews the anxiety swirling in the pit of my stomach but I swallow hard and send back, "okay", reading over her message a final time before I pocket my phone and go through the motions of getting my shoes and car keys and everything that doesn't fucking matter. She's right. We need to talk about this in person. I don't care what she has to say, there are things that need to be done in person. And I never thought I'd have this kind of conversation but I'm not having it over the fucking phone.


A/N:

So… I'm not one of those author's that does horrible cliff-hangers, huh?

Yoooo! Thanks for checking out this update, I really appreciate it! Today (February 3rd) marks the two year anniversary of when I first posted this fic. It's amazing to think that this story has lasted so long and I've made so much progress on it since then. Thank you all for sticking with this story, it means the world to me. Your comments and encouragement keeps this story going so thank you. Words can't express how much I appreciate all of you

After a chapter of this magnitude, I feel like I should have more to say. But I've been working on it for close to a month and I've written and rewritten it almost entirely. The core of it is still there but certain events have changed so far from their original portrayals, it's hard to keep it all straight for me. Honestly, I don't know if this chapter is as much of a trainwreck as it feels but it's something so… I hope you've enjoyed it

Dash setting the fire was never in this chapter when I wrote it the first time. But through edits, I knew it needed to happen. It sets things in motion for future events and it adds a sense of urgency that this chapter desperately needed

The phone call between him and Danny was exhilarating for me to write. It was one of those scenes where I didn't have to stop and think about what I was writing – it just came to me naturally. I went back and forth on how I wanted their make-up scene to go but overall, I'm happy with the way it came out. The boys sharing coffee on the trunk of one of their cars seems to be their thing

Now you all know why Howard's being suspiciously nice – certain things in life have made him realize the things he's done and he's trying to make a change. He's trying to make it better for Dash and he knows that it starts with him *hums Man In The Mirror in the background*

The pregnancy thing, huh? I know you're all probably losing your goddamn minds over that part. It's definitely a storyline I've been waiting to get to – and hoping that most of you stick around. I don't want to spoil anything for you but what comes of next chapter greatly affects Dash and the people he cares about. It's heavy and emotional but I wouldn't have it any other way ;P

Honestly, there's a lot I could say about this chapter. It's thirty thousand words. It took me a week to write the first time and nearly a month to essentially rewrite it. There are so many events and elements coming into play and I'd love to delve into all of them but I'll leave it at that

The chapter title I chose this time comes from Steel Bars by Michael Bolton, a really great song and though I don't think as a whole it's reflective of this chapter, that line definitely is. A few other top contenders are Forest Fires by Lauren Aquilina, You by Switchfoot, Wolves by Selena Gomez, and Arsonists Lullaby by Hozier. There's a playlist for 64 on my Spotify - just search for jaeger-soul and you should be able to find it

As always, your thoughts and comments are so greatly appreciated so let me know what you're thinking. Drop me a review/comment or hit me up on tumblr – I'd love to hear from you

Next chapter, you can expect Dash coming to terms with what this means for his future, more of Howard trying to make amends, time between the boys, and anything I decide to add in during editing – who knows what'll make it in there at this point

I hope you've enjoyed this update and I'll see you all for the next one. And hey – thanks for two years with Stay!