The rest of the school day passed by as quickly as I could have hoped for. The stares and whispers still followed, but I tried to act as though I noticed nary a peep of what was being said about me. If everyone hadn't heard about what happened in the cafeteria yet they would soon, and I was happy to play aloof until then.

When the final bell rang I stopped at my locker to drop off my things. I found Grace in her usual spot just a few lockers down from my own.

"Are you okay?" She asked cautiously. I'm sure she knew as much as the next person.

"I think I will be."

"I saw what you did in the cafeteria. That was… bold." I could read the subtext in her words. What she really wanted to say was, that was the least chill way you could have handled yourself and have you lost your damn mind?

"Yeah that was a bit much, but it felt necessary to take the narrative into my own hands."

"Well everyone's talking about that now, too." Grace said. "People keep asking me for clarity. They think you were hooking up with Kurt and moved right on to Eddie. I told them that isn't true but the rumors are still flying."

"They can say whatever they want, I played my part and showed them what they needed to know. I don't really care anymore." I hoped by repeating that I didn't care, it would eventually become true.

"So are you and Eddie like, official?" She asked.

"I don't know. We haven't really talked about it and it doesn't seem necessary right now. But he's been really supportive."

"That's good. I think he really cares about you," she said sincerely.

"I do too… speaking of, I've gotta get going. I've got a whole week's worth of detention to get through."

"No way! So that's what this morning's announcement was about. You cannot catch a break!"

"Yeah, Kurt told administration that I hit him. It's been an eventful Monday to say the least."

"Next time I see him, he'll be lucky if he doesn't get a knee to the balls." She said.

"Thanks, but I think I took care of him. We'll find out tomorrow" I laughed. "I'll see you," I said as I headed down the hallway.

Eddie was waiting for me right outside of the classroom where detention was assigned.

"Welcome to my home away from home," he said, as he held the door open for me. Eddie was no stranger to detention. There were a couple of kids that joined us, but otherwise the classroom was mostly empty.

"Don't hate me," I said, giving him a cautious look. I wasn't sure if he'd be happy with the plan I had in mind.

"What did you do?" He asked, as I started walking away from him. I approached the teacher who was overseeing detention this week.

"Hi. I'm actually Eddie's French tutor, Mrs. Lattimer advised we use this period to study for his upcoming exam. Would that be alright?" I asked, handing her the note from our teacher. The detention proctor looked at the note, then handed it back to me. She advised we sit in the back and keep quiet so as to not disturb the other students.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked, as I met him at the back of the classroom.

"We're studying French," I said with a smile, pulling two desks side by side. His class was currently working their way through chapters of Le Petit Prince. I had read it in my class last year so I was familiar with the story. Once they finished the book, they would be tested on the material.

Eddie let out a little grumble, but sat down next to me and pulled the book out of his bag. It was bent and frayed and clearly unloved, but I would do my best to get him to enjoy this study session.

It was the most we had actually focused on tutoring in weeks. But he didn't seem to mind this time, and I had his undivided attention. If we had to serve detention, at least we could do it on our own terms. We quietly read through the book sentence by sentence, and he understood the translation much more than he gave himself credit for. At one point he reached down and took my hand, and we stayed like that for the rest of the period.

When the detention was over, Eddie offered to drive me home. I knew it was either that or call my mom for a ride, so I let him, on the condition he drop me off a block from my house just in case.

"Thanks for putting up with my needy bullshit today," I said as we pulled up to the stop sign around the corner from my house. I grabbed my bag to get out of the car.

"So needy," he said, leaning over for a quick kiss.

"I'm the worst." I said. "Let's just hope my dad doesn't murder me tonight so I can continue to annoy you for days to come."

"I hope he goes easy on you. If not, we'll just skip town, we can live out of my car," Eddie joked.

"I'm not hopeful, you better fuel up the van now."

"I'm on it."

"Think a mattress will fit in the back?"

"Oh it does." He said with a smile.

"I don't wanna know… I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be in the getaway car. Seriously, good luck with your dad."

"Thanks," I said, flashing a smile as I got out of the car.

I came home to my mom reading in the living room. As usual, she was in a posh matching set that would give off the impression she had just gotten back from an aerobics lesson, but really I knew she hadn't left the house. The house as usual was tidy, she spent all day on cleaning and chores. I often wondered how she filled her days with the same routine tasks and habits, but she stuck to it and didn't complain. I lingered in the doorway to see what she had to say.

"You're home later than usual." She didn't even look up from her book, the latest installment of some romance series all the moms had been reading. I already knew she knew why I hadn't come home at my usual time, so it wasn't worth lying.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I have after school detention this week."

"Yes, the school called."

"Mmhmm…" I said, not sure what else she wanted to mention. I would suspect the school had also told her why I had been given the detention.

"Your father will have something to say." Was all she said. It was as though she was announcing, I wash my hands clean of this. Let your father decide how to deal with you.

I don't know what it was with her. When things were nice and steady, she was so overeager and involved. Desperate to be part of the action, clinging to youth and wanting to relate to everything I had going on. When things even got slightly rocky, she went into robotic mode. I only had to assume it was a form of self preservation, but I wasn't a part of that equation. She only cared to save herself at times like this.

We didn't say anything else. She went back to her book until it was time to prepare for dinner, and I sat down at the kitchen table and started on my own schoolwork.

I was in the middle of my assigned History reading when we heard my dad's car pull up. My mom had just finished preparing dinner, and called to him when he came through the door. He walked into the house carrying his briefcase, his tie removed and the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was untidy which meant he had spent the afternoon fidgeting with it. I was ready for whatever confrontation was coming my way, but he ignored both of us and went straight to his den in the basement.

The door to the basement shook on the hinges from the force exerted to close it. Alone in the basement my father had unchecked access to his liquor cabinet. Never one to let loose in front of company, my father preferred to imbibe in solitude. If anyone asked him, he would say he was 12 years sober. 12 years! I've heard it come from him more than once in a bragging tone. I guess drinking alone equated to sobriety as far as society is concerned. His family knew better than to share his secrets.

Whenever he was good and drunk, there were only two outcomes really. He more often would isolate himself until he had slept off the hangover, ignoring the world until he came to. That was the preferable option. But if it had been a particularly tough day at work, or if one of us had said something with even an ounce of disagreement, we knew it would come back around. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he would let the thoughts fester until eventually it bubbled to the surface. Then you'd find yourself calculatedly confronted about a minute reaction you weren't even aware had offended him. These outbursts always left you second guessing yourself, wondering if you had done anything to piss him off recently.

My father choosing to go to the basement instead of talking to me may seem like I was let off easy, but I knew better than to let my guard down. I knew what was coming.

My mom also knew not to go down and disturb him, so she took the plate she had prepared for him and started wrapping it in foil. She served me a plate and sat down at the table to join me. We sat quietly picking at our food, neither of us eating much. She tried to make small talk about my homework but I wasn't reciprocating beyond the basic answers.

After nearly an hour, when dinner had been cleared and I had almost finished my take-home assignment, my father emerged from the basement. I jolted a little at the sudden noise, as I had been sitting in silence until then. My mom had already abandoned me to busy herself in another room. I was completely on my own.

Of all the ways to start a conversation, my dad had a way of knocking you off your guard from the get go.

"So why did you do it?" The light was gone from his eyes, whatever charm that may have been there once was completely depleted.

"Why did I do what?" I asked for clarification. He could be talking about anything and I wanted to be careful with my response.

"Don't be stupid. The school called. They said you earned after school detention this week because you assaulted another student at the dance."

"Are you asking me why I slapped Kurt Douglas?" I said, knowing he wouldn't want the actual answer.

"I want to know what deranged ideas you're getting that you think it's appropriate to assault an innocent boy."

"It wasn't like that, if you'd let me explain-"

But I wasn't given a chance.

"What gives you the right to put your hands on someone else, Annie?!" He said vehemently. "And of all people, it had to be Kurt Douglas." It was no secret that the Douglas family was well known in Hawkins. Of course word would get around soon.

"It was self defense," I said quietly, which was partly true. I was defending a part of myself when I hit Kurt. The part with any self respect or compassion for others. And besides, if I had let things go the way they were there was a very real chance Kurt would have been the one hurting me.

"Kurt Douglas' father is one of our biggest clients. If word gets out that my daughter viciously attacked his son, and word will get out, I'll lose the sale. Do you know how much this is going to cost us?"

I felt backed into a corner like a scared kitten whose last defense was to hiss back. I couldn't help it. He treated me like a petulant child so often that at times of extreme duress I had no choice but to act the part. I could only hope that in acting childish he would come to his senses and acknowledge the way he was treating his own child. But he never did.

"Kurt is an asshole who would do horrible things if given the chance, and you're worried about a sale at work?!" I shot back.

"I work my ass off day and night to provide for this family and this is how you pay me in kind. By punching my biggest client's son." He wasn't interested in my side of the story or what had happened, and I was starting to get pissed off. This was all about how this would affect him, not the well-being of his daughter.

"You're misunderstanding the situation," I pleaded.

"You're misunderstanding your place," he shot back. "Don't talk back to me. I can barely look at you, you make me sick. First throwing fists at an innocent boy and now this." His inclination to defend a boy he didn't even know over me was what set me off.

"It wasn't a fist, it was barely even a slap!" I argued back.

I knew better than to get myself worked up. I knew when I raised my volume to match his that it was over for me. I knew better, but I still let it happen.

There was nothing but rage behind his eyes as his hand came sweeping across my face.

"Like that was barely a slap?! Stupid girl." There was fire in his eyes, which seemed to bore into me as my face absorbed the heat of his blow.

I stayed quiet, but turned my face back and looked him straight in the face. I forced him to see right into the eyes of who he was hurting. As if to say, "What gives you the right to put your hands on your own child, father?"

I don't know what I was expecting him to see in my eyes, but it didn't make a difference. In a moment, his opposite hand was flying down on my other cheek to match the damage. This time, it was his left hand. As contact was made, I felt the metal of his wedding band impact against my right cheekbone.

There is something so humiliating about being slapped. It can put you right in your place if you let it. I felt the blood rush to the stinging on my face, felt the tears well in my eyes in response to the pain. In the midst of that humiliation I had two thoughts. The first was that even after being hit myself, I felt absolutely no remorse for what I had done to Kurt. And the second was that his intention was to silence me, strip me from what little power I clung on to.

I refused to be powerless.

My father, on the other hand, refused to be disobeyed. I never wavered as I turned back and stared him dead in the face and dared him to try it a third time. Look me in the eyes while you kill me and call it love.

My resistance was palpable in the air as he made the split decision and dealt his final blow. This one left me on the ground.

I had put up a good mental fight, but there was only so much more I could do from the ground. Genuine fear began to sink in. What if he didn't stop? My father had been physically violent before in subtle ways, but he had never gone so far as to blatantly hit any of us. Not before tonight. What if it didn't end here?

I was scared to find out. I had to let him think he won. I stayed down, my face buried in my hands. I refused to look at him or engage. I prayed for him to grow tired and abandon his hunt. I prayed for the man who used to love me fearlessly to come to, but he never did.

"Find a way to fix this," he spat.

No more words were said. What else could have been said? I waited until he stormed out of the kitchen and headed back down to the den before I got up off the floor.

In an earthquake, right after the ground settles, there is an inclination to breathe a sigh of relief. The worst is over and you can assess the damage. But those who are familiar with how unpredictable earthquakes are know that there is usually more to come. You must be always cautious of the aftershocks: when the plates of the earth playfully show you they weren't quite done shifting the terrain. A not so subtle reminder that the earth belongs to herself and will do as she pleases. We simply inherited it by chance and are living on borrowed time. That's how it felt to be my father's daughter. I didn't belong to myself, not while I was his.

It is almost impossible to accurately predict exactly when the aftershocks would appear. Oftentimes it's the force of the aftershocks that cause the irreparable damage, the first earthquake just sets the scene for the final destruction.

I didn't want to sit still like an idiot and wait for them like I had so many times before.

My mom had stayed in the bedroom the entire time. I knew she heard the commotion, she heard everything that happened in her house. Even so, she didn't emerge. I wasn't surprised, but I was exhausted. I don't know that I would ever get used to having to fight my battles without support from my mom.

I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and held it straight onto my cheek. I hadn't checked the damage yet, but I knew if there was any swelling, the ice was imperative to slowing it down. The spot where my dad's wedding band had grazed my face was tender to the touch.

I took the stairs by two and locked myself in my bedroom, and allowed myself to finally cry. I readied for whatever I would see in the reflection. I approached the mirror propped on my dresser and leaned in close to assess.

As expected by the stinging on my face, there was no doubt that I had been hit. I was relieved to see the swelling wasn't horrible, and gingerly touched at the skin around my cheekbone to inspect the damage. There was a small red bump right below my eye, but otherwise not very much to show for what had happened. The blood that had rushed to my cheeks was already calming down.

The sinister part of me wished I had an obvious black eye instead. What a sure fire way to show the whole world what could happen behind closed doors. I could only be so lucky.

As I leaned away from the mirror, my movement accidentally knocked over the framed family photo I had on my dresser for as long as I can remember. How cliché, a happy family photo to remind me that mine was anything but.

It was from one of our yearly trips to Lake Michigan. This was before my brother and I were old enough to complain about the long car ride. By the time I was 10 my parents started sending us to summer camps instead of doing yearly family trips.

I was 5, maybe 6 in the photo, and I was seated atop my dad's shoulders. I had my Raggedy Ann doll, which I took everywhere with me, sitting on my own shoulders. A toothy grin plastered on my face, I thought it was so funny to mimic my pose with the doll. My mom had her arms on my brother Chuck's shoulders, who was squinting in the sunlight, his head tilted down. Both of my parents were wearing proud smiles. At least, to any unassuming outsider who saw the photo.

I had lingering memories of those trips, maybe even a bit of nostalgia for the time we spent as a family. My mom would always bring up memories from our trips, but my brother would gripe or correct her or roll his eyes. He had started noticing the bullshit long before I could. These days it's been hard to recall a time we could spend more than 2 hours together without some sort of tension.

I can see now the cracks in the mirage of our perfect nuclear family had been forming long before that trip. The discomfort painted in my brother's face. The dead eyes behind the practiced smile sported by my mom. My dad's attempt at being an active participant in his family, but only when the camera was pointed in his direction. I was happy because I was too small to know any better. That was before I learned by my mothers example that sometimes the best way to get through the day was to fake it. Or to ignore your issues outright and hope they fade away with time.

I decided right then that waiting around to see what was going to happen was no longer an option for me. I had more integrity than to just let things continue to happen to me instead of doing something about my life. And that meant I had to get out of this house that was increasingly becoming unsafe.

I gathered a few essentials, including my makeup bag in case I had to conceal anything in the morning, and packed my bag. I was heading out the front door in under 5 minutes.

I know my mom heard the door open, but I didn't care. She wasn't going to stop me. She knew better than to disturb my dad tonight. She would pretend she was unaware I had left just to save herself from a worse fate of willingly letting me go.

I went into the garage to grab my getaway vehicle. I was trying to leave quickly, but I wasn't trying to break the law, so grand theft auto was out of the question.

A baby blue bicycle with a basket on the handles was hanging up on the garage wall, a relic of my childhood. My mom had begged me to pass it on to my cousin when I was fifteen but I had refused. Since then, it had sat there untouched, more useful to the spiders that dwelled in the garage than it had been for me since I got my license. I swatted away the spider webbing between the wheels and pulled the bike down from the rack. Before anyone could really stop me, I was hopping on the bike and pedaling down the street.

I didn't even have a clear idea of where I was headed. My mind cycled through the options of places to go, people to crash with. All of my friends' parents would call mine in the morning. I thought about calling my brother to pick me up, but he was in college and the likelihood of him driving almost an hour wasn't high. And even if he did, he would just turn around and bring me back home. I thought about riding around until I was tired and then heading back, but then I thought of how much more trouble I would be in for sneaking out.

A part of me hated myself for running off to become someone else's burden. But the alternative option of going home was motivation enough to keep my heels steadily pounding the pedals.

I don't remember making a conscious choice of where I was ultimately going before I found myself heading in the opposite direction of town. I wasn't sure how long it took because I was buried in my thoughts. I wasn't even really sure I was going the right way until I turned down a beaten path and saw the Forest Hills sign.

The sun sets early in the fall. It was probably just before 8pm, but everyone was inside already for the night. Cold and dark meant an early turn in time for most of Hawkins. No one saw me coming.

I got to my final destination and hopped off my bike, propping it up on the kickstand. I was nervous, but I had come all this way. And I was tired. I couldn't go back home yet even if I wanted to.

The porch light was on, and his car was parked out front. I knew he was home. I rapped my fingers lightly on the door.

Only a few seconds had passed before the door opened. Eddie was standing there in only a pair of black sweatpants. He didn't have a shirt on, and his hair was wet. He must have just gotten out of the shower. And he looked surprised to see me at his house at this hour.

"Annie?" He said my name as a question.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately, more nervous than I should have been.

It wasn't difficult for him to tell I was upset.

"Did something happen with your dad?" He said, alluding to much more than just a verbal argument.

My natural instinct was to defend my father even now, diminish the truth until I eventually doubted the validity of my reaction. Maybe it hadn't been all that bad. Maybe I deserved it. I knew that this response was one that had been drilled into me over years of subtle manipulation. It was against my nature to tell the whole truth, so instead I just said, "I shouldn't have come."

I took a step back, one step closer to fleeing if I needed to. I was afraid of how I would react in an unstable situation. I was worried about him seeing any marks on my face if I stood directly in the light. I knew if he touched me, if he held me the way he was inclined to do, that would open the floodgates. I could only expect so much from him when I was the one interrupting without notice. It would be too much for me to barge in expecting refuge, and also pour my emotions out for him to have to navigate on his own.

"What happened?"

He let the screen door close behind him as he came out onto the porch, but I stepped back again. As I moved away from his touch, I could see he read my trepidation as fear of him. He could tell something serious had happened, and now he thought I saw him as a threat.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, his arms up in surrender. It absolutely broke me to see that he could ever imagine I would be afraid of him. That alone was enough to illicit tears brimming in my eyes.

"I know that," I said as I slowly abandoned the distance. Eddie had already shown I could be vulnerable with him without judgement, but this was the ultimate test.

I stepped forward into the light so he could see the hurt on my face, but didn't give him time to process before I forced my way into his embrace. He accepted me graciously. And sure enough, the tears began silently pouring.

"Shh, hey, it's okay," he said, putting a hand on the back of my head and smoothing down my hair that had grown wild from the wind of the bike ride.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go," I said through the tears. I wasn't one to sob openly but now that the tears were out I couldn't stop.

"No, don't apologize. I'm glad you came to me." He pulled back to look at my face. He brought his hands up to begin wiping away the tears on my cheeks. When his thumb grazed the bump on my cheek and I hissed unavoidably from the pain, Eddie got a better idea of why I had sought refuge. I watched his expression change as he realized.

"Did he hit you?" There was a perfect storm of concern and fury written on his face.

My silence was confirmation enough. Still, he searched my face for a verbal answer, so instead I replied,

"My dad does business with Kurt's dad. He thinks I'm going to cost him the sale," I said stupidly. As if that was any justification for his reaction.

"So he fucking hits you?" Eddie shot back. He wasn't yelling at me, but his voice was raised in anger.

I opened my mouth to respond but a hitched sob came out. Actually hearing it being said out loud by a third party was like a whole new blow. I think he realized his indelicate reaction was having a negative effect, and he had to reel it in.

"Annie, I am so so sorry," he said as he pulled me back into him. We stood like that for a few minutes while I worked on steadying my breathing and he whispered sweet placating words.

"You don't have to go back there. I won't let him hurt you," he said. I just nodded my head as I attempted to regain my composure.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked after a few moments, pulling back to look at my face. It was one thing for him to have an idea of what had happened, but completely retelling the story seemed too painful. I shared what I could.

"I tried to stand up to him but he wasn't backing down. He got me three times before I had to let him win." This visibly upset Eddie but he attempted to stay calm as he rubbed my back softly.

"How many people am I going to have to kill for you, Annie Cooper?" I could tell he meant it as a lighthearted joke, but there was an edge of truth to his voice so the joke fell flat.

"At least two," I said, allowing the joke to pass and trying to ease over the tension.

"At least two, in as many days."

"Hopefully this is the end of that list."

"You say that now." He tilted his head down in an accusatory way.

"Stop," I whined, wiping the residual tears away. But I was smiling and so was he.

"You know I'd do it, so let's keep that number below a life sentence, shall we?"

I nodded in agreement. "If the car is fueled up, I'll be your getaway driver," I said, referencing his earlier offer.

"You're in enough trouble as it is, you're not living a life of crime on my watch."

"You know I'd do it," I said, using his words against him.

"I know. Let's go inside." He said, taking my hand and opening the screen door.

"I propped my bike up outside, is that going to be okay?" I asked before we reached the door.

"Is it a nice bike?"

"I don't know? it's a few years old…"

"Who am I kidding, that doesn't matter. Let me grab a chain," he said, hopping off the porch and disappearing around the side of the house. I could hear him rustling as he took my bike and chained it to the side of the porch.

"I'm sorry again for showing up uninvited," I said as he finished tying up the bike and bounded back up the porch stairs.

"Shut it, you're always welcome here. I was just reading anyway, I could use the company." He held the front door open for me, and then I followed him down the hall into his bedroom. I knew his uncle was at work, like last time, and I wondered silently if I would ever get to meet him.

"What book were you reading?" I asked as I entered his room. It looked about the same as the last time I had seen it, except the bed was unmade.

"The Fellowship. I thought about starting The Gunslinger but I often find myself rereading the same books out of comfort." He plucked the book from his nightstand and tossed it to me as I read the cover.

The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien.

"Have you read it?" He asked.

"No, but I think my brother has. I might have tried to a couple of years ago but gave up pretty quickly, it's so long. You read the same books for comfort too?" I asked.

"Of course. What's your favorite comfort read?"

"I always find my way back to Gatsby."

"You actually liked that book?" He said incredulously.

"Like you actually read it," I rolled my eyes at his judgement. His eyes widened like he couldn't believe I would accuse such a thing. But because it was a school assignment, I felt fair in my judgement that it wouldn't be his style.

"That was a low, but fair blow." He laughed. I knew I was right.

"Give it a chance, it might surprise you," I said.

"Give Lord of the Rings a chance," he argued back.

"Okay. Read it to me," I said, sitting down on his bed and patting the spot beside me.

"Just say when, sweetheart" eagerness abound that I would show interest in one of his favorite things.

"How about now?" I asked.

"You want me to read it to you now?"

"Why not? I could use a distraction."

"Okay," he agreed. "Do you want to start with this one, or The Hobbit ?"

"What's the difference?"

"The Hobbit is the prequel, it's about Bilbo's journey with the dwarves to defeat the dragon Smaug and collect his treasure. It's how Bilbo comes to find the One Ring,"

"What is a hobbit?"

"It's a race of people in Middle Earth."

"What is Middle Earth?"

"It's the ancient land where the story takes place."

"When does the story take place?"

"Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want me to read?" He asked.

"Okay okay. You pick."

"We'll go with Fellowship, you'll still learn about Bilbo and the Ring."

"One more question," I said, knowing that I was walking into dangerous territory.

"Yes?" He waited.

"What is a Bilbo?" I asked, an innocent smile on my face. I knew I was going to be a difficult audience and that would drive him wild. I didn't wait for his response before I was laughing.

"Who is a Bilbo," he corrected, and then he started laughing too.

"That name is ridiculous."

"I didn't name him. Give the book here," he said.

I handed the book back to him as he joined me on the bed. He propped himself up with pillows against the wall and I turned to face him, pulling my legs up under me, eager for him to begin.

"Oh no, that won't do." He said, disappointed that I had settled in.

"Huh?"

"Get your ass over here Annie, it's story time."

That was the last thing I was expecting from him, and I let out a genuine laugh. I crawled my way over to him.

"Where do you want me?" I asked, my face awfully close to his.

"That is a dangerous question, but you are sad, so I'm gonna let that one slide for now." He said. I laughed again. He grabbed another pillow and set it down on his lap. "Down you go," he said.

I quickly stole a kiss, but moved away before he could demand more. I laid my head down on the pillow and curled up on the bed. He draped a blanket over me.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes. Okay, I'm ready. Tell me about Bilbo and his rings." I demanded.

"It's one ring," He laughed as he flipped open the book and began to read.

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,"

"I thought you said there was one ring," I interrupted immediately. He rested the book down on my face playfully, cleared his throat and continued reading.

"Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne"

"Oh," I said, but he ignored me and kept reading, removing the book from my face.

"In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."

He took a brief pause to say, "remind me to never watch a movie with you."

"I'll be quiet now, I promise."

"Chapter One, A Long Expected Party." He continued.

I had a million thoughts swirling around my head, but I wanted to pay attention as Eddie shared one of his favorite stories with me. I closed my eyes and focused on the rhythm of his voice and the cadence of his reading. He began softly stroking the hair that had fallen around my head as he allowed himself to really get into being the narrator. His voice was steady and serious, but still playful as he gave the characters different voices and emphasized things he wanted me to pay attention to. I could tell that years of playing D&D made him an incredible storyteller. I allowed myself to get sucked into the story.

It was much later when my eyes opened and I realized he was no longer reading aloud.

"Why'd you stop? Where did Bilbo disappear to?" I asked, looking up at him. That was the last part of the book I had remembered.

"You've been asleep." He was still stroking my hair.

"For how long?"

"It's past midnight," That alone made me sit up quickly, to which Eddie chuckled. I adjusted so I was sitting up in the bed facing him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked peaceful," he shrugged.

"How far did we get?" I asked.

"About fifteen pages," he laughed. I groaned.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay, you needed it."

"I should probably get going…" I said sleepily, followed by a yawn.

"You should stay here and get some more sleep," he encouraged.

"I can't impose on you like that," I said, knowing I had already done so.

"You're not imposing."

"Really, I should go," I said, moving to get off the bed. He reached his arm out to stop me.

"I can't let you go back there. Not tonight."

I was running on autopilot and foggy from sleep, but the sadness in his eyes brought me back to reality. I was trying to go home out of habit as to not disappoint anyone. The gravity of the situation was coming back to me. Going home wasn't an option anymore, at least not tonight.

"Okay."

"We can make a plan for tomorrow, but tonight I'd really prefer if you stayed here," he reiterated.

"Okay," I repeated.

This time he was the one to move off the bed.

"You can sleep in here tonight, I'll take the couch."

The exhaustion was setting in, and I didn't have it in me to argue with him. I would have preferred if he stayed in his room with me, but he was doing me a favor by letting me stay at all. So I nodded my head.

"Do you need a change of clothes?"

"I brought some in my bag." I could hear the disappointment in my own voice, but I tried to shove it down.

Eddie went to grab my bag from the front door and let me change in private. I opened the door when I was finished so I could say goodnight. He was setting up a pillow and blanket for himself on the couch, but stopped when he saw me.

"Need me to tuck you in?" He said. I rolled my eyes.

"No, I was just coming to say goodnight,"

He held his arms out to me and I gladly sank in. This was easily becoming my favorite place to be. If he let me, I would choose to stay here in his arms all night.

"Thank you again for letting me stay," I whispered. I would never be done thanking him.

"Jokes on you, this fits perfectly into my plan of never letting you leave," he said smiling. Then his face dropped and he tightened his grip. "You're not going to try to escape in the middle of the night, are you?" Always with the dramatics.

"That depends, do you have a magical invisibility ring I can borrow?"

"Oh no, she's already getting ideas."

"I'm not gonna leave," I said with a chuckle.

"Are you sure? I can go get the chain." I laughed again. He was being ridiculous.

"You know, there's an easier way to make sure I don't leave…" I said. I was mostly alluding to him spending the night in the bed with me and just sleeping, but one could read into the implications.

"You're right," he said, letting go of me. He grabbed the pillow and blanket off the couch and began laying them down by the front door. "I'll sleep here."

"You are an idiot." I shook my head but a laugh escaped nonetheless.

"But it made you laugh," he said, all smiles. God, that smile would be the death of me.

"Just kiss me goodnight and let me go to sleep," I joked.

"Yes ma'am" he said, with raised eyebrows and eagerness in his voice.

The kiss was gentle and sweet and over entirely too soon. It left me wanting more, a lot more. I didn't want to appear as though I was the sad desperate girl who needed comfort in the form of physical affection. I could tell he was holding himself back too, probably thinking I was still too fragile for anything more. The last thing I wanted was for him to treat me differently because he saw me as wounded.

"Will you promise me something?" I asked when he pulled away.

"Anything."

"Don't treat me like I'm some fragile thing just because of what happened tonight."

"I don't think you're fragile," he began.

"Then kiss me goodnight like you mean it," I encouraged.

I didn't have to ask him twice. He grabbed my face gently, carefully, but kissed me much more passionately this time. The fire in my stomach ignited and I pulled him in closer. I had to show him how much I needed him with this kiss. I could've kept going, could have let him completely distract me from my pain and sadness. I would have done anything. And it was true he was much more eager this time, but a small part of him was still being reserved with me. He wasn't going to take me to bed tonight, and I realized that quickly.

When there was no more air between us, he pulled away gently. My body was fully warmed up and longing to be touched and I wanted to go back in for seconds but I knew we were at a precarious point.

"Was that better?" He asked, holding my hips.

"Yes," I said. It was, but I was also dying for more. I knew with one touch I could persuade him to let the night turn my way, but I stopped myself. It wouldn't be fair to try and manipulate him if he wasn't picking up on my signals. So instead I breathed a sigh.

"Goodnight, Annie. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Eddie." I said, leaning in for one more quick kiss before pulling away and heading for the bedroom. I knew if I stayed any longer I would be delaying inevitable disappointment if Eddie turned me down verbally.

I reached the doorway, then had one final though.

"Eddie?" I whispered, into the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"Don't let the Bilbo's bite," I said. I recognized how corny my joke was, but he laughed nonetheless.

"Go to sleep, Annie, you need it."

I shut the light off, but left the door cracked in case he decided to join me after all.