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REDEMPTIVE Jay McLean

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Published: Jay McLean March 2016

Dedication To my father-in-law Richard “Pa” McLean. I’ll never forget long nights spent around the dinner table while I listened to you retell your true-life crime stories so well, they gave me goose bumps. I miss you dearly.

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Epigraph Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Epilogue Other Books By Jay McLean About Jay McLean

“Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” —Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

1 Bailey Six Years Earlier “sh*t,” I WHISPERED, feeling the first drop of rain. It was already freezing out. My jaw had begun to hurt from the effort of trying to force it to shut so my teeth would stop clanking against each other. I stood up, looking for some form of shelter that the dumpster I’d been calling home no longer provided. Pulling my arms into the sleeves of my sweatshirt, I used my body heat to keep me moving, to push me forward. A shiver ran up my spine, spreading through the rest of my body. Thunder clapped, and just like that, heavy sheets of rain poured down on me, soaking me from head to toe. My toes were frozen thanks to the giant hole at the tip of the only pair of shoes I owned. I cursed under my breath, attempting to run and find shelter. I didn’t get far. I was so weak I could barely stand. I’d given up on trying to remember my last meals, given up on trying to work out time and days. I slowed to a stroll, my body fighting against my will to find somewhere warm. Somewhere safe. The evil lurkers came out at night, especially in the wet, knowing that the sounds of raindrops hitting the pavement would drown out the sounds of yells and screams while they tormented other homeless for their few possessions. The worst was when they’d prey on the elderly. Or the women. Because apparently beating and raping aren’t criminal offenses when it came to the homeless vs. the homeless. No one cared. After slipping my arms through the sleeves, I reached into my bag and fished around for the toy cell phone I’d found and brought it to my ear. I started speaking into it like I was focused on a mission to get home. Saying things like, “Yeah Mom, I’ll be home soon,” just so those who saw me thought I had a purpose in life. Little did they know, my only purpose was shelter, and maybe even a warm drink. I don’t know how long I walked before I came to a stop outside an empty diner. I shoved the fake phone back in my bag and looked up. The lights above the building flicked on and off, but everywhere else darkness surrounded me. My breaths were short, sharp, tiny spurts of whatever energy I had left. Though barely able to breathe, the sounds of my inhales and exhales amplified in my eardrums. Like a constant, but inconsistent humming. I pushed open the doors of the diner, the bright fluorescent lights blinding me immediately. The smell of food overwhelmed my senses and my stomach flipped at the thought of it. I pulled the hood off my head and stood for a moment, waiting for my body to stop shivering. “Unless you’re here to eat, you need to leave,” I heard. Slowly, my eyes roamed the small space for the voice. A middle-aged man was leaning against the counter, his dirty apron on full display. Dammit. How could he tell? I should have kept the phone to my ear. The largeness of his frame was intimidating and the words I wanted to speak caught in my throat.

“Did you hear me?” he asked. It took all my energy to nod. “Bathroom,” I managed to squeak, hoping for working hand dryers to warm me up. “Paying customers only,” he said, straightening to full height. “I—” He pointed to the door. “Out.” I wanted to cry. Though I knew I couldn’t. But what I wanted more was food. Food and warmth. “Please—” “Out.” I turned on my heels, my wet shoes slipping easily on the tiled floor. Then I opened the door and stepped back out into the pouring rain. I rounded the corner of the building and leaned against the wall, using it to shield me from the downpour—if only for a little while. Too weak to stand, my body slumped until my ass hit the cold, wet, concrete. I used my arms to cover my head and started the count in my head. Two hundred was normally the number I’d get to. It was enough time to give my mind and my body reprieve, and just long enough to get back up and start the same mission again: food, shelter, pretending like I was somebody. A door slammed shut, but I didn’t lift my head. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. “Here,” I heard, but I was too afraid to look up. “Take it,” the young male voice said. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. “Just come in. Buy a burger and a drink. Use the bathrooms. Whatever you need.” My stomach rumbled on cue, though whoever was speaking to me wouldn’t have heard it over the constant thunder roaring in the skies. I felt a hand on my bare knee, exposed by my ripped jeans. “Please,” he said, and the genuine sincerity in his voice gave me the courage to finally look up. He smiled around a soaked cigarette. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” He placed the scrunched up bill in my hand as I used the other to wipe the rain away from my eyes. When I could see clearly, I looked down at his hand, now covering mine. He grabbed my wrist and helped me to stand. “I make a mean double cheese. I’ll even throw in some extra fries.” I wished I could see him properly. See the eyes of the boy who was opening his heart to me, but it was too dark—the space between us too clouded by the rain. “Please?” he said. I managed to nod. He smiled again, causing the cigarette to fall from his lips. “I’ll see you in there.”

* I WALKED BACK into the diner, a stride in my step and a new sense of hope. Marching up to the counter, I eyed the man who had denied me previously. I uncrumpled the cash in my palm—a twenty—and did my best to slam it down on the counter. In the kitchen, a door opened, and my savior entered, his

smile widening when he saw me. He used his index finger to wipe the wetness off his eyebrows and shook out his arms slightly. He smiled and with a single nod he encouraged me to find my voice. My eyes trailed back to the man behind the counter. “I’ll have a coffee, a co*ke, a double cheeseburger, and fries, please,” I said confidently, pushing the twenty toward him. He cleared his throat. Then, over his shoulder, “Steven! Order for—” “I heard!” my hero shouted, clearly visible under the diner lights. “I’m on it!” He winked at me and my stomach flipped, for a completely different reason than hunger. He gave me a half smile that lit a spark in his eyes while the man in front of me cleared his throat. “Here’s your change,” he said, and then pointed to my left. “Bathroom’s that way.”

2 T HE NEED TO find warmth apparently outweighed the need to fill my stomach. This made evident by the fifth push of the hand dryer button and the enormous glee I felt as I dipped my head underneath, combing my fingers through my hair. A knock on the door had me jumping out of my skin. “Occupied,” I shouted, just as the dryer timed out and switched off. A chuckle filtered through from the other side, and without knowing for sure who it was, I opened the door. My generous hero smiled wide and then held out a plastic bag in offering. “Found some clothes in my car,” he stated, eyeing me up and down quickly. “They’ll be big on you. But they’re dry.” He motioned his head to the counter. “Your food’s ready.” “Thank you,” I mumbled, taking the bag from him. He simply nodded once, turned on his heels, and left me to change.

* I’D JUST TAKEN a seat to start my meal when he approached from the other side of the counter. He placed a set of keys right next to my plate and said, “Take your time, I’ll be done in an hour. You can wait in my car. Put the heat on.” I don’t know what I’d done to deserve his generosity, but I sure was grateful for it. “Are you sure?” He nodded slowly as his hand reached up and moved my hair behind my ear. His touch was warm. Safe. “Just stay okay? Don’t leave without me.” I returned his nod, not knowing what else to do.

* EVEN THOUGH I had a safe, warm place to go after my meal, for some reason I felt safer being in the same room as him—a complete stranger. So, I took my time eating. Occasionally I’d catch him staring at me with a frown that made me squirm in my seat. After an hour, he removed his apron and sat down next to me. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at his phone. “Yes,” I said quietly. He glanced up then—an almost shy smile on his face. His gaze moved from me to the darkness outside. The rain had stopped but it was windy. The type of crippling, cold wind I hated. When his eyes moved back to mine, his smile got wider. He reached up and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt I was wearing over my head, then reached into his pocket and grabbed a pair of woolen gloves. He started to carefully place them over my hands, and I let him. I even let him hold my hand afterward to guide me down from my seat. He held it all the way to his car while he opened the door and helped me get seated. The entire time I fought to keep the grin off my face. It’d been a long time since someone had cared, but Steven did, and I had absolutely no idea why.

“You’re safe now,” he said as if somehow reading my thoughts. He smiled again before closing my door and making his way around to the driver ’s side. Once he was settled, he turned to me. “I’m house-sitting for a friend. They’ll be back in a few days. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’d like for you to stay there, just until they get back.” My heart slammed against my chest. It was then I understood what was happening, and as much as I wanted the warmth and comfort of a roof and a bed, I just couldn’t do it. “I won’t sleep with you,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle. His hand on my forearm squeezed tight and froze me to my spot. A scream threatened in my throat, and I tried to pull out of his hold. He released me quickly and without a fight, his hands going up in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean to put my hands on you like that. I promise you, that’s not what this is. You can stay at the house. Different beds. Different rooms. Hell, you can take the entire house, I’ll sleep in my damn car.” I stared at him, eyes wide in shock. His phone rang; cutting off whatever response I was struggling to form. He sighed before answering the phone and lifting it to his ear. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?” He released a relieved breath. “So what’s up?” He waited for a beat. “What kind of help, Ky?” he asked, his eyes moving to mine. Gently, he took my hand in his and squeezed once, as if assuring me of what he’d said earlier. He mouthed a thank you and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and then offering them to me. I shook my head the same time he said into the phone, “You’re after drugs, aren’t you?” I tensed. Drugs. He was a drug dealer. I hated drugs. And I hated everything that came with them. I made a move to get out again, but he held my hand, his eyes narrowed as he searched my face. “No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or the person on the phone. He turned the car on and cranked up the heat. “Because, Ky, you’re not like that. I’m not going to be responsible for—” Whatever the Ky person said must’ve cut him off. He lifted both my hands and placed them in front of the air vents. Covering the phone, he whispered to me, “I’ll be back,” and then stepped out of the car. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the seat. What the hell was I going to do? Before I got a moment to think, his door opened, and he sat down again. “I’m sorry,” he told me. “That was my brother. I gotta help him out with something.” “You’re a drug dealer?” “No,” he said with a laugh. “Not at all. But I’ll be honest with you, I’m going to help my brother get some. There’s this field party happening not far from here, I’ll get him what he wants and then we’ll leave. And I meant what I said, I’ll sleep in my car. You can have the house to yourself. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I promise.” “Why?” I asked. He sighed. “What’s your name?” My voice came out a whisper. “B-Bailey.” “It’s a pleasure, Bailey. I’m Steven.” “So?” I pressed.

“So what?” “So why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.” “Because…” He placed his hands in front of the air vents. “We all need saving at some point, and I’m here to save you.”

* HE DIDN’T GET out when a car pulled into the parking lot. We drove to a field in complete silence, neither one of us speaking. But he held my hand—not in an intimate way, but a comforting way—and it worked. He made me feel safe. Once we were out of the car, I kept my head lowered, not making eye contact with his brother or the guy who showed up a phone call and a few minutes later to supply the drugs. I followed Steven’s lead and sat on the hood of his brother ’s car while they talked. “Is this weird?” his brother asked while Steven went to his car for something. I shrugged and removed Steven’s gloves, not knowing how else to respond. I was all too familiar with the smell of weed, so I knew what they were smoking. At one point, his brother offered me the joint. “No, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to show how much I despised what they were doing. They talked for a bit while Steven took my hand in his, and I felt my heart tighten again—just like it did when he placed the gloves over my hands. I listened as they spoke about themselves, their lives, their dad, and I realized it then—Steven’s words from earlier held more truth than I knew. Steven—he needed saving just as much as I did. “You remember what I said the day I told you I was leaving?” Steven asked his brother. He didn’t wait for a response before adding, “You said ‘you shouldn’t let ’em take it.’ I asked you what the hell you were talking about. You said ‘You, Steve, don’t let them own you.’” Steven shifted next to me, and I pretended not to see him wipe at his eyes. “But here I am, Ky, letting them take me. And you know why? Because that pain I feel, it’s inside me. Just like it’s inside you, and no amount of drugs can change that.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and the second his lips pressed against it, my stomach filled with butterflies. I found myself leaning into him, trying to find a way to comfort him the way he’d done for me. He cared. And as stupid as it sounds considering we’d only met a few hours ago, I felt connected to him somehow. Like we were both living a lie; hoping that someday we’d mean something. We both wanted to matter. And we both needed to be saved. Steven said to his brother, “Go home, Ky. Go home to your family…” He waved his finger in a circle while I sat confused, wondering why he said your family, and not ours. “…and be better than this. You don’t belong here.” His brother sighed. “You don’t have to belong here either, Steve.” Steven laughed. “A little late for all that.” But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe we could save each other.

3 FOR MINUTES STEVEN just stood there, watching the taillights of his brother ’s car as it moved farther away from us. “Are you okay?” I asked, stepping beside him. He pulled out his phone and looked down at it, lost in a world of his own thoughts. Tapping the phone a few times, he distractedly murmured a “yeah” before lifting it to his ear. “Watcha got?” he mumbled, turning away from me. “Yeah,” he continued, his eyes darting to mine quickly. “I know where it is. I’ll meet you there.” After hanging up, he looked over at me. It was too dark to make out his expression, but when he took a step forward, I instinctively took a step back. He sighed and took my hands in his, comforting me again. “I need to meet up with a friend real quick.” “I thought we were just going to go back to your—” “I know. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t take long.” I agreed. Not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. It was a comfortable bed and a roof for the night as opposed to going back to my dumpster. After five minutes of walking and my suspicions escalating with every step, I finally asked, “Where are we going?” His grip on my hand tightened as he led me through the darkness, our feet sloshing through the muddy grass while we walked through the field surrounded by carefree teenagers. What I’d give to be them. I wondered if they could tell, if they could take one look at me and know I was different. “We’re almost there.” And even though I had no idea where we were, or what we were doing, in that moment, the only thing I could trust was his hand on mine. “Steven Parker,” I heard, and my eyes moved everywhere all at once. Steven stopped. A loud chuckle echoed through our surroundings, but the only thing I could make out were bushes and the track we were walking on. “Took your time,” the same voice from earlier said. My eyes moved to the sound of rustling bushes to my right. “You brought a friend,” the guy sang, coming into view. He was in his mid-thirties, from what I could tell. The smell of cigarettes and booze oozed off him, and when he stepped closer, the odor doubled. He eyed me up and down, the corner of his mouth lifting higher the longer he stared. Steven stepped forward, shielding me. “You got it?” he asked. The guy scoffed and smiled wider, showing his lack of teeth. “You know I do.” Steven reached into his pocket. And it finally hit me… it was a drug deal. I should’ve known. I should’ve moved. Should’ve run away. But I did neither. “New rule,” the dealer said, stepping closer. “We’ve had too many narcs on our back. Too many close calls—” “What’s that got to do with me, Pauly?” Steven cut in. “You know I’m good.”

The guy chuckled, then started to turn away. Steven opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “You don’t need it,” I said, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away. “Let’s just go, okay?” He shook off my hand and looked down at me. I could tell he wanted to say something, to convince me that he did. He needed it. And I could see it in his eyes, eyes filled with stone cold desperation. A familiar look I’d seen too many times. From my dad. From his girlfriend. From the men and women who would come into the house. I swallowed nervously and stepped back, wondering how the f*ck I went from trusting him completely—to this. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped and his eyes fixed on mine. But he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to his dealer. I dropped my gaze, too angry to face him. He’d let me down. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should’ve been used to it. I stood still, my fists balled at my sides. I was angry, I was sad, but most of all, I was disappointed —in Steven, for who he turned out to be, and in me for hoping… for just hoping. Keeping my eyes down, I tried to ignore their exchange, tried not to listen as Steven told him he had the money. My eyes shut tighter when I heard the familiar sound of a single snort, a single bump of cocaine. Steven cleared his throat, the moment over. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I needed that.” Bile rose in my throat, and I opened my eyes, looking everywhere but at them, trying to find the quickest way out. Footsteps crunched on the gravel of the path, moving closer and closer. “Yo,” a voice called out. “Relax,” Pauly said, “It’s just PJ.” A moment later, PJ came into view. “We gotta go. Boss got a call out to a different location,” he said, stopping for a moment when he saw me standing there. I took a step back, away from all three of them, and then another step, and another. Steven must have noticed because he rushed over, holding my hand again. He squeezed once. “We’ll go now, okay? Promise.” I didn’t believe him. “Payment, asshole,” Pauly said, and the weed and co*ke must have started affecting Steven because he laughed. “You got it, man.” He released my hand to reach into his pocket then pulled out his wallet, and then he froze, his eyes focused on the content. “You gotta be kidding me,” Pauly said, but there was amusem*nt in his words. “I swear I had a twenty,” Steven whispered. My stomach dropped to the floor, and my voice shook when I said, “You gave it to me.” “f*ck.” Steven looked up at Pauly. “You know I’m good, man. I’ll hit you up next time.” Pauly sighed, shaking his head from side to side. Slowly, he reached behind him. A tiny squeal escaped me when his gun came into view. “Whoa!” Steven moved in front of me. “I’ll get you the money. Jesus Christ, put that sh*t away!” “You got five minutes,” Pauly clipped, his voice even. Steven grabbed my hand again. Pauly laughed once, pointing the gun at me. “She stays. Collateral.” My heart thumped hard against my chest.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Steven said. Pauly lifted the gun higher. “Just go,” I told Steven. “Be quick.” “No. I’m not—” “Go!” I was pissed. At him. At myself. At the entire goddamn world. “Just go,” I repeated, and made up my mind that I’d rather be on the streets doing everything I could to avoid sh*t like this. There was no f*cking way I’d be going anywhere with him after this. Steven turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and bending down so we were eye to eye. “I’ll be back.” I avoided his gaze. He left. I stayed. “Tick tock,” Pauly said. PJ laughed. “Tick tock, indeed.”

* “I DON’T THINK he’s coming back.” Pauly laughed, kicking my shoe with his. My chest tightened. Because Pauly was right; Steven wasn’t coming back. And I hated myself for believing him, for putting my trust in a stranger. I held my bag to my chest, ignoring the mud seeping through my jeans as I sat on the ground, my heart racing. I was on my eighth round of counting to two hundred. “Tick tock,” PJ mumbled around his smoke. “Tick tock,” Pauly repeated, squatting down in front of me. I held my breath, not wanting them to see, or hear, the fear building inside me. He raised his gun, inching it closer to my face. “I’m sure a pretty girl like you could find a way to make up his debt.” The cold steel of the gun pressed against my cheek, moving up the side of my face and to my ear as he moved the hair behind it. I released a breath, my heart pounding. “Such a pretty girl,” he said slowly, sprays of his foul spit landing on my cheek. “So pretty,” PJ agreed, stepping toward us. Pauly placed a hand on my leg, creeping higher and higher. I pushed my feet off the ground, scooting away from him. He let out an evil laugh, one that echoed through the still, night air. His grip on my leg tightened while the hand holding the gun pushed on my other leg, spreading me open for him. “Get your hands off me,” I seethed, my eyes boring into his. PJ laughed. I raised my hands and pushed against Pauly’s chest, but it was useless. His face came closer. I tried in vain to push him away. “Get off!” I screamed as his body covered mine, pressing my back into the ground. I kicked my legs wildly trying to get him off me, but my fight was his source of pleasure… his encouragement to keep going. “Get off!” He kissed my cheek.

I swallowed the puke. His breath was hot, his voice hoarse. “It’s easier if you don’t fight it.” I looked up at PJ, pleading with him to help me, but he just smiled, this sinister f*cking smile that made me believe it was over. Pauly’s rough hand made its way under my clothes and onto the bare skin of my waist. I almost cried. Almost. Everything I’d survived. Every day I hid. Every moment I fled. It was all for nothing. Pauly’s hand moved down my waist. “Please stop,” I begged, even though I knew he wouldn’t. “f*ck this is gon’ be good,” Pauly said into my neck. He pressed himself into me, and I almost gave in. Almost. But then words spoken earlier between Steven and his brother came to the forefront of my mind. Don’t let ’em take it. They were talking about their dad, but to me, it meant so much more. I sucked in a breath, composing myself. I had two choices. Fight or die. I made the choice. I fought. I raised my hips off the ground, attempting to push him away. “What’d I say, girl?” Pauly said through gritted teeth. “It’ll be easier if you just give yourself to me.” “f*ck you.” I spat in his face. “I’d rather you kill me!” He wiped my spit from his face and smiled. “Maybe I will,” he whispered, pressing his gun to my bare stomach. “After I’ve had my fun with you, whor*.” I choked on a gasp. In my mind, I knew it’d only been minutes, seconds even, since he spoke his first words to me, but the fight felt eternal. I tried again to kick him off me, but he kept his body over mine, making sure I had no way out. My hand seemed to move on its own to the gun between us. Sweat dripped from his forehead and onto mine as I writhed beneath him. My heart was racing, my hands shaking. “Get. Off. ME!” I screamed louder than I had in years. My throat closed as I saw the evil in his eyes. He lifted off me slightly and popped the button on my jeans, tugging them down past my hips and exposing me to him. Then he pressed the gun firmer into me, his spare hand rising and coming down harshly across my face. I screamed out in pain while PJ stood over us, laughing. Blood filled my mouth. Don’t let ’em take it. My hand gripped the gun tighter as I tried to free myself from under him. But he knew. He was fast. So fast.

He pinned me down with his entire body, and I swear he screamed out, almost joyfully, a newfound determination filling his eyes. I pulled my free hand from between us and pushed on his face, turning it away from me. PJ stood above me, bending down to grasp my wrist and placed it to my side. He stomped harshly on my hand and kept it there. “Take it,” he told Pauly. “f*ckin’ take her.” My cheek stung as Pauly’s palm made contact again. I stayed silent—a piece of me dying as his hand covered my breast, squeezing once, before making its way down my body and between my legs. His fingers moved slowly down my mound. I shut my eyes, my throat closing when I felt a single finger start to invade me. “Take it,” PJ encouraged. And my eyes snapped open. Don’t let ’em take it. My fingers tightened on the gun. A single gunshot sounded. All air left my lungs. And then… Darkness.

4 Nate SCREAMS FILLED MY ears. I looked over at Tiny, his eyes wide as he stood there frozen, hundreds of kids partying in the field running in all directions around us. “What the f*ck?” Tiny said. I pulled out my phone and dialed Pauly’s number. The phone connected after what seemed like an eternity, but it wasn’t Pauly, it was PJ. “Do you know what’s going on?” I asked, my eyes darting everywhere for a source of the sound. “Boss. You need to come. QUICK!” “Where the f*ck are you?” “The path behind the field.” I hung up and ran toward the path with Tiny far, far behind me. A million scenarios ran through my mind, but none of them could have prepared me for what I saw when PJ came into view. “f*ck,” I whispered, adrenaline spiking my veins. I looked over at PJ, who was pacing, hands linked behind his head. “What the hell happened?” My heart hammered as I looked back down at the pool of blood right next to my foot. I followed the trail to Pauly. Or at least, I thought it was him. He was laying still, a girl beneath him. “What the f*ck did you guys do?” I almost shouted. “Swear to God, PJ, you better start talkin’.” I kicked the side of Pauly’s limp body, rolling him to his side. I couldn’t see the wound, but blood covered his shirt, the stain spreading wider the longer I looked at it. Then I heard it. The heavy release of her breath. My eyes snapped to the girl and her eyes shut tight, her chest heaving up and down. Her sweatshirt was raised, exposing her stomach. Every single part of her was still, everything but the hand holding the gun. “f*ck.” My eyes moved down her body; blood covered her waist all the way down to where her jeans were pulled past her hips. I choked on a gasp. Rage filled me. I pulled my gun from my waistband and pointed it at PJ’s head. “Did you f*ckin’ rape her?” He threw his hands up, shaking his head quickly. “I didn’t f*ckin’ touch her.” “Boss Man,” Tiny panted, finally caught up and standing next to me. “We gotta clear out.” I could barely hear him over the beating of my heart. “Get the van, PJ.” PJ dropped his hands, his gaze moving from me to the girl on the ground. “She killed Pauly,” he spat out. A snarl pulled on his lips as he reached behind him. “She killed one of our men, and you’re pointing the gun at me?” “Hey!” Tiny yelled, but I ignored him and took slow steps until the barrel made contact with PJ’s head.

I fisted his shirt, feeling him tense beneath my touch. Then I leaned into his ear; my words meant only for him. “If I find out you’ve laid a hand on her, I swear to God, I’ll hold you up and watch as she pulls the trigger and ends you. Get. The. f*cking. Van. Now.” He swallowed loudly, then pushed my hands off him and slowly backed away. I waited until he was out of sight before looking over at Tiny. “Keep an eye out,” I said, walking back over to the bodies. I squatted down next to the girl. “Are you hurt?” Her hand holding the gun shook harder, causing ripples through the blood pooled on her stomach. Her mouth opened, and she whispered something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I leaned in closer. “What did you say?” “Blood,” she whispered. “Everywhere.” Finally, she opened her eyes, and they immediately fixed on mine. “Boss Man,” Tiny interrupted. “What?” I answered over my shoulder. “Is Pauly dead?” I reached over and placed two fingers on Pauly’s wrist. Nothing. “Yes.” Tiny stepped closer. “What are we going to do?” I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know.” “PJ’s right,” Tiny said. “What the f*ck is PJ right about?” I asked, slowly lifting the gun from the girl’s hand. She didn’t put up a fight. I doubt she even realized she was holding it. “She killed Pauly. PJ’s not going to let that slide. You can’t just let her go. She’ll be dead tomorrow.” The girl ran her hand across her stomach and brought it up to her face, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of blood smeared on her fingers. I felt a crack in my armor; the one I wore every damn day. “Shut up, Tiny.” “I’m just saying that—” “I said shut up!” “Boss—” “Just let me think, okay?” I tried to think, but I couldn’t focus. Not while Pauly lay dead and cold two feet away from me and the girl who had obviously killed him lay still, covered in blood, silent between us. The headlights of the van shone through some bushes, and I was finally able to see clearly. Blood wasn’t just on her stomach or her hands, there was blood on her face, dripping out of her mouth. There was a cut across her cheek and early signs of bruising. “What the hell did they do to you?” I whispered. The van door closed and PJ stepped out. “Put Pauly in the back,” I told Tiny, but my eyes were on hers. “Are you hurt?” I asked again. Her voice trembled. “I don’t…” “Can you sit up?” Tiny picked up Pauly like he weighed nothing. We both watched as the girl slowly sat up, burying her head between her knees. “You need to decide,” Tiny said, a hint of hesitation in his words. He knew he was pushing it. Hell, I was pushing it. I was always able to think straight—to think fast. That’s why I was good at what I did, but I had no f*cking clue what to do.

PJ came to a stand above us. “Just get rid of her already.” I shook my head at PJ. “One more word and you’ll be joining Pauly in the back.” His eyes narrowed at me. “f*ck this,” he spat, turning his back, and walking away. Tiny returned from putting Pauly in the van and took the murder weapon from me with his glovecovered hands. He placed the gun in a plastic bag, and then he crossed his arms, just as a dozen cop sirens filled my ears. “We need to clear out, Boss,” Tiny pleaded. I nodded, but inside, my heart was beating out of my chest. My fingers trembled, and I straightened them out, hoping Tiny wouldn’t notice. “Nate!” he snapped. I panicked. And then I gave in to the inevitable. I placed one arm under the girl’s knees, the other around her back. Then I lifted her off the ground and made my way to the van. She didn’t fight. She didn’t make a sound. Maybe she knew. Somehow, she must have felt it. Her life was over. And I, no doubt, would be the one to end it.

5 Bailey IT’S SAID THAT your life flashes before your eyes when you die. It must only happen to those whose lives were worthy. Clearly, mine was not. The only thing that happened to me was a repeat of what I thought was my death. The blast of the gun as it went off. The loss of my breath as two hundred pounds of dead weight dropped on top of me. And then darkness. This replayed over and over. When the guy squatted down next to me and asked if I was hurt, the only thing I could see, feel, hear, were those last few seconds. Even when I was in the back of a blacked out van—it was the only thing that ran through my mind. Gunshot, breath, darkness. The man who lifted me into the van moved in front of me, trying to get in my vision. His mouth moved, but I didn’t understand him. I couldn’t hear through the constant banging running through my head. Just take me, I almost told him. Kill me already. His eyes pierced mine and they seemed to turn darker the longer I looked at them. He didn’t break the stare, his eyes shadowed by the crease in his brow. I averted my gaze and looked at the man I’d just killed. My eyes trailed from the blood still dripping from his stomach, down to his dick, left exposed by his open fly. He was that close to taking me. I looked at his face. His eyes were open, looking right at me. But there was no life. He was dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD. I wondered for a moment if he was someone’s dad. Someone’s brother. But it didn’t matter—he was someone’s son. And I’d just killed him. And the worst part? I couldn’t find it in me to care. Not about him. Or about me. I looked into the dark eyes watching me intently. “Can you please kill me now?”

6 Bailey T HE GUY TALKED heatedly to the men in the front seat while he sat in the back of the van with me. His gaze moved back to me, his eyes narrowed. Then his mouth opened, and I knew he was trying to talk to me—to get me to understand him. His head dropped forward, his shoulders heaving once. Then he looked up, and his mouth moved again. Though I couldn’t hear it, I saw it. “I’m sorry,” he said. And for some unknown reason, I believed him. He reached into a gym bag behind the driver ’s seat and pulled out a black dress shirt. He ripped off one of the sleeves using his bare hands. Then he lifted the stretched material and nodded at me as if assuring me that he truly was remorseful. The fabric covered my eyes as I bent forward, allowing him to tie it behind my head. I’d already surrendered to my fate. It would have been useless to fight, and honestly—I had no fight left. I felt him sit down next to me, our arms touching. I tipped my head back and leaned against the cool metal of the van. I thought about my life. About everything I’d been through. I wondered if, or even how they would identify my body. If somehow, somewhere, my parents would be notified. And I wondered if they’d even care.

Nate AFTER DRIVING TO PJ’s house and Tiny forcefully removing him from the car, we drove to Uncle Benny’s. Technically, he wasn’t my uncle, but he’d known me since I was born. Benny and my dad were business partners up until Dad died when I was sixteen. At the time, it was just Dad and me. The business ran well. Uncle Benny was the muscle. My dad—he was the brains. And when he died, I was given the opportunity to learn his trade and one day take over his position. The truth is—I had my own reasons for making the choice I did—one I kept completely to myself. I quit school and did what was expected. I learned the ins and outs and committed my life to the job. Soon enough, the business became my family. Still, Uncle Benny reminded me I hadn’t earned sh*t. If not for my dad, I’d be another punk peddling dope on the streets. But he was wrong, and he f*cking knew it. Six years on and I’d done my service. Or at least, I made it seem that way. AFTER T INY HAD announced our presence through the intercom, the gates to Uncle Benny’s house swung open. My eyes were fixed on the girl, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. Tiny parked in front of the door and hopped out. A moment later, the side door of

the van slid open. “You got a game plan?” he asked. “The truth,” I answered.

* UNCLE BENNY’S EYES went huge when Tiny and I walked through his office doors, the girl stumbling between us. I was surprised PJ hadn’t called him yet—ratted us out like the prick he was. “What the f*ck is this?” Benny snapped. The three guards he kept around immediately stood up when they heard the anger in his voice. “Settle down,” I told them. “In fact, I need a minute alone with Benny.” Uncle Benny quirked an eyebrow at my casual tone. He was “Don” to everyone else. Just like I was “Boss.” It was a rule. No names. “Don?” One of his gorillas asked. He shooed them away with a wave of his hand. They left, no questions asked. I knew they hated me, twenty-two-year-old punk they had to call “Boss?” Of course, they despised me. But they respected my dad, so they kept their mouths shut. I sat down on the other side of Benny’s desk. Tiny moved to the seats the guards had just vacated and helped the girl sit down before doing the same. “Start talking,” Benny bit out. With a shaky exhale, I told him everything I knew, which wasn’t much at all. When I was done, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. “So she killed Pauly?” I nodded. The girl clasped her hands on her lap. Benny’s eyes moved to her quickly before returning to me. “So she’s seen you. Seen Tiny and the other men. You come here, and you say my name, and now she knows that, too.” I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he raised his hand, stopping me. I cursed under my breath—realizing the mistake I’d made. Benny leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You know what your dad would do?” he asked. I shook my head, my eyes narrowing in confusion. “He’d kill her. She knows too much, and she killed one of our men.” “My dad wasn’t a killer,” I said, my tone clipped. Benny chuckled. “Not that you know of,” he mused. “And say you’re right … your father was a Boss,” he said like the term Boss was a form of royalty. “He had an entire army beneath him. An army of killers.” The girl’s breath caught. “Do what you have to do,” Benny said, standing up and walking toward his door. “You’re a smart kid, Nate DeLuca.” He punctuated my name, saying it with purpose, using it to fuel the fire—to fuel the need to make sure she didn’t get out alive. I swallowed my nerves—my anger. No matter what, I was f*cked. He opened his office door and added, “I don’t understand why she’s still breathing… why the f*ck

you haven’t done it already. Do you need me to send one of my men with you?” “No,” I said quickly. So quickly his eyebrows rose in surprise. I added, “I’ll take care of it.” He nodded. I stood up. Tiny followed, helping the girl to her feet. Benny cleared his throat. “I trust you’ll take care of Pauly’s body too?” It was my turn to nod. “Good. If anything comes back to us, it’s on you, Nate.” “Yes, Don.”

* I DROVE T INY’S car while he followed behind me in the van. I gave him instructions on what to do when we got to the cliff on the outskirts of the city. The place I drove to was secluded. There was nothing around—nothing but the river two hundred feet below the cliff’s edge. I heard the van park next to me, but I kept my head down, focused on attaching the silencer to the pistol. My heart rattled in my chest while my hands shook, making it almost impossible. The van door closed and a moment later, Tiny was tapping on my window. My brow bunched as I lay the gun on my lap and wound it down. “You sure about this, Boss Man?” I jerked my head once and wound the window back up. My head tilted to the side—assessing the weapon. One bullet. That’s all I’d need. I heard the door of the van slide open and Tiny speaking quietly—too quiet for me to make out the words. I listened for a response, but nothing came, only the sounds of their footsteps becoming louder and louder. Shadows cast over me as Tiny and the girl walked past and approached the cliff edge. I knew it was time, but I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready. I should’ve taken Uncle Benny up on his offer, had one of his men do it. But it didn’t feel right. Because, clearly, there was a right way to end someone’s life. I shook my head and dropped the visor, looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red. My forehead damp. My jaw pressed tight. I fought hard to inhale. Struggled to exhale. I blinked hard and pushed down the knot in my stomach. Then, gasping for air, I pushed open my door and stepped out. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Toward the girl on her knees, her blindfold still on. I realized it then; she hadn’t made a sound. Why wasn’t she screaming or pleading for her life? I slowed my steps as I approached her, doing everything I could to delay the inevitable. The gun swayed in my hands, my fingers unable to control their trembles. I stopped a foot in front of her. She must have heard me coming, sensed me somehow. Her head lowered, almost as if she was welcoming me. My throat closed up as I lifted the gun. She sniffed once. Then raised her chin and pushed forward until the end of the barrel made contact with her forehead.

It was stupid, but it was the only thing I could think to say. “Are you ready?” She nodded half-heartedly against the cold steel. I clicked the safety on the gun. Tiny stepped closer. Silence surrounded me, all but the mixed sounds of our heavy breaths. “Please,” she whispered, and I didn’t know if it was for me to stop, or for me to just do it already. My free hand curled at my side, trying to grasp on to the courage I needed. Needed, I told myself. I needed to do this. Suddenly, her shoulders squared. She held her breath. I pressed the gun firmer to her head. And then, somehow, she found her strength, but she didn’t use it to fight me. Instead, she started to sing. “You are my sunshine,” she sang. My hand loosened its grip as her voice filled my ears. “My only sunshine…” What the f*ck was happening!? “You make me happy…” Her voice became so strained I could hardly make out the words. “When skies are gray…” An image filled my mind, one I’d suppressed so many years ago. “You’ll never know, dear…” I closed my eyes—the thumping of my heart causing the armor to fall away. “How much I love you…” I stepped back and dropped my hand to my side, barely gripping the pistol. “Boss?” Tiny said, stepping up to me. “Put her in the car. Take care of the evidence,” I ordered, turning my back and walking away.

* I IGNORED HER heavy breaths from the back seat as I watched Tiny set the van ablaze, Pauly’s body inside it. After a moment, he opened the driver ’s door and started the engine. A second later, the wheels turned, and the van moved forward. Tiny stood with his hands in his pockets as we watched the van plummet over the edge. Once he was behind the wheel of his car, he asked, “What now?” There was calmness in his voice that shouldn’t exist. He reversed out of the clearing and drove back to the main road. Tiny didn’t break the silence. Neither did I. It was her. And it was two words I’d never expected that left me ruined. “Thank you.”

7 Nate IT WAS THREE in the morning by the time we made it home. Luckily, my house was a gated cabin in the woods. No neighbors for miles. It also helped that no one had been to the cabin since my dad had died. I liked my privacy. I also liked my safety. It was easier just to keep everyone at a distance, regardless of how lonely it got. I faced the back seat and looked her up and down. Her hoodie was black and hid most of the blood. Her jeans, however, that was another story. And it dawned on me then; she never told me if she was hurt or not. “Is any of that your blood?” I asked. She shook her head slowly, but enough for the blindfold to slip down her nose a little. Sighing, I reached over and started to remove it. She flinched beneath my touch. “I’m just taking the blindfold off, alright?” Her shoulders dropped, and once she’d scooted forward in her seat, I removed the blindfold. She kept her eyes closed a moment, her breath catching as her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Tiny turned to her. “No screaming.” The girl nodded but kept her gaze lowered. Tiny helped her out of the car and led her to my house. With each step closer to my door, my pulse quickened. By the time we got there, my head was spinning, and my heart was on the verge of exploding through my chest. My fingers shook as I lifted my key, trying in vain to unlock it. Tiny—he must have sensed my struggle, because his hand covered mine and he muttered, “I got you, Boss.” I was grateful he was there, that he could somehow see the sense in whatever the f*ck it was we were doing. The girl just stood there, completely silent. When Tiny swung the door open, I placed my hand on the small of her back, guiding her through. After disarming the security alarm, I walked to the kitchen and switched on the lights. I needed a drink, something to take the edge off. Tiny grasped the girl by her elbow and followed behind me. I reached up to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and without bothering to get a glass, I took a long, well-earned swig. The girl’s eyes fixed on mine. She stared at me so intently, for so long, that I had to look away. After taking another swallow, I offered her the bottle. “No, thank you,” she said. I nodded and was about to replace the cap when I saw her move from the corner of my eye. She was rubbing her wrist, red raw from the tape Tiny had used. She unzipped her sweatshirt, revealing a worn white T-shirt with large holes in a few places. But that’s not what stood out. It was the amount of blood that had seeped through. She attempted to speak, forcing me to look up at her bloodstained face. “What?” I asked, but it came out harsher than intended. I tried to settle my pulse, tried to calm my breathing, tried to put some perspective into the situation. “What did you want to say?” I asked, my tone calmer. She shook her head. I looked up at Tiny, but he was looking down at her. After a moment, he let out a sigh. “What’s

your name?” he asked her. And for some reason, it pissed me off. Maybe because he was the one in control when it had always been me. He, at least, could speak, while all I could do was stare at her. “B-Bailey.” Tiny threw out his hand. “I’m Tiny.” Her hand trembled as she accepted his offered one. He smiled warmly or, at least, attempted to. “Are you hungry?” She shook her head. “Thirsty?” Another head shake. “Shower?” he asked her. Her eyes widened slightly, then she faced me. “Would that be okay?” I took another drink, my eyes never leaving hers. Then I walked between them, past the living room and down the hallway toward my room. After finding her a change of clothes, I made my way to the guest bathroom and ran the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping just outside the door. “All yours,” I told her. Slowly, she walked over, stopping only inches in front of me. Then, looking me right in the eyes, she ruined me again. “Thank you.”

* T INY MOVED IN his seat opposite me at the kitchen table. We’d sat in silence up until the point he said, “This is bad news, Boss.” I laughed once. I couldn’t help it. “No sh*t.” “What are you going to do?” Shaking my head, I leaned back in my seat. “I have no f*ckin’ idea.” “You should say something to her.” “Like what?” He shrugged, his fat gut moving with it. “I don’t know, but it’s not helping you just staring at her the way you are.” The pipes clanked when her shower ended. Tiny added, “Just talk to her. Tell her she’s safe.” I raised an eyebrow. “For now?” “Better than her not knowing anything at all. She probably thinks you’re going to off her in her sleep.” Sighing, I stood up quickly, the chair beneath me tipping back from the force of it. “Fine.” T HE SECOND I knocked, the bathroom door opened, and she was there—wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my long-sleeved gray shirts. Her hair was wet, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. But she was clean. No more blood. The bruising on her cheek had darkened since I’d first seen it, and the cut on her chin and bottom lip had closed up. She dipped her head, her brown hair forming a curtain around her face. I struggled to breathe, struggled to speak. Then I felt Tiny next to me, his shoulder bumping mine and I finally found my voice. “Bailey?” Her eyes snapped up, and I could see the fear behind them. I took a step closer, and when she tried

to step away, the back of her leg hit the edge of the tub. “I won’t hurt you,” I said. “You’re safe. It’s over.” Only it wasn’t over. It hadn’t even begun.

8 Nate T HE RINGING OF my phone startled me awake. I opened one eye first, then the other. Then I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it; Tiny’s number flashed on the screen. “What?” “I’m outside.” “Use your key.” A moment later, the door opened, and he stepped inside. “We have a problem, Boss.”

Bailey AFTER T INY HAD left last night, Nate showed me to, what I assume was, a guest bedroom and told me he’d be in the next room if I needed anything. There was nothing but a bed pushed up against the corner and a single nightstand with a lamp, and a tiny dresser, but it was more than I’d expected. And even though it was more than I’d been used to, I still found it impossible to sleep. Every sound, every creak of the floorboards, had me jumping out of my skin, and so when I heard voices in the kitchen, most likely Tiny and Nate’s, I was almost relieved. “We don’t have a f*ckin’ choice,” Tiny’s deep voice rumbled. Nate said something¸ but I couldn’t make out what. After pushing the sheets off me, I quietly opened the door and made my way toward the voices, hoping not to startle them. It didn’t work. Both their eyes snapped to me from their seats at the kitchen table. I felt exposed, uncomfortable in my own skin. Nate cleared his throat and broke the silence. “You need to eat something,” he stated, his voice firm. “And we need to talk.” “Talk?” I asked quietly. He just nodded and motioned his head for me to sit down. I did. I folded my hands on my lap and waited for them to speak, choosing to ignore the food. Nate leaned forward, causing me to look at him. He asked, almost hesitantly, “We need to know who’ll be reporting you missing. I mean, I don’t think it matters who, but we need to try to be ahead—” “No one,” I cut in, saving him from going any further. Tiny and Nate shared a look, one that let me know they thought I was crazy. Tiny spoke first. “Parents? Siblings? Friends?” “No one,” I repeated. Louder. Stronger. “I don’t have anyone.” Nate released a shaky breath as he combed his fingers through his shaggy dark hair. “There has to be—” he broke off when I picked up a fork with my right hand, keeping my left close to my chest. Through the adrenaline of what had happened last night, I didn’t feel the damage of what a full-grown man’s weight on a hand could do. Nate—he must have noticed because he asked, “What’s wrong with your hand?” “Nothing.” “Is it hurt?”

I shook my head. Tiny spoke up. “Bailey, if you’re hurt or need something, you need to tell us. There’s no point in lying, you’re only going to make things worse for yourself.” My bottom lip trembled as I fought to keep it together. I felt like a child—a disobedient child, whose parents had just scolded her. I glanced up at Nate. “Yes. It’s hurt.” He stood quickly. My gut clenched, and my entire body filled with fear. It felt like hours as I watched him approach. He squatted down next to me, gripped the legs of my chair and, without effort, spun my seat to face him. He reached forward, his palm up. I gently placed my hand on his. His dark eyes softened as he looked down at my hand. He flipped it over, eliciting a wince from me and a rushed apology from him. His hands were soft… warm. Completely opposite from what I’d expected. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes focused on his finger running over my knuckles. I looked over at Tiny, who nodded in encouragement, then back to Nate. “The man—he stomped on it—” “Who? Pauly?” Nate bit out, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tense. “No… the other one.” “PJ? Why?” My voice came out in a whisper. “So I couldn’t fight Pauly when he was on top of me.” Nate’s gaze flicked to Tiny for a second. Then he cursed under his breath and covered my left hand with both of his. In a tone meant to comfort me, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened?” The words I’d been holding on to since the gun went off eased their way out of me. “I just wanted him to stop. He wouldn’t get off me. He wouldn’t stop touching me. Feeling me. I couldn’t let him take it.” Nate’s eyes fixed on mine—an emotion behind them I couldn’t decipher. “Then what happened?” I kept my voice even, void of any and all emotion. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just felt for the gun, found the trigger, and I used it. I didn’t—” “Didn’t what?” Nate cut in. “I didn’t know the gun was pointed at him. I was aiming for me.”

9 Nate BAILEY EXCUSED HERSELF to the guest bedroom shortly after her admission. Tiny waited until she was out of earshot before he turned to me. “You notice she hasn’t cried? Not once. Even when you held the gun to her head.” I shrugged. It was all I could do. Of course I had noticed. It just made me more curious about her. When Tiny had said that we had a problem—he wasn’t kidding. We did. And it was a huge one. Apparently PJ had taken pictures of him and Pauly’s act and sent them to everyone. Including Tiny. When he’d shown me the pictures, I’d wanted to puke. It must have been before they smacked her around because her face was clean. Not a trace of blood. Which made it worse because you could see her face clearly. “He’s trying to send a message,” Tiny had said. “What do you mean?” “He’s showing people because he wants them to see the girl who killed Pauly. He’s put a bounty on her head. Two grand.” I’d scoffed at the amount. “Two grand’s not much to you, but to drug pushers and takers, it’s a lot of f*ckin’ money.” “Why would he do that? I made it clear I’d take care of it.” Tiny had given me a look that told me he thought I was stupid. “Obviously, he doesn’t believe you.” I’d rolled my eyes. “There’s more. He’s taken his opinions to Benny. Benny wants to talk to you.” “f*ck.” “Yeah. That’s not all, though. Think about it. You let everyone believe that you’d take care of it. Regardless of the circ*mstances, she killed someone the men consider family. They find out she’s still breathing, and there’s going to be a bounty on your head. A much higher one.” I’d sat back in my seat, my head spinning with every verbal blow he had just delivered. “Jesus f*ckin’ Christ.” “They see her out there, she’s dead, and you—you’ll have a lot more to deal with than just an innocent girl living under your roof.” “So she has to die?” “No,” he’d said quickly. “That’s the last thing we both want.” He’d paused for a beat as if gathering his thoughts. “We just need to be smart about it, that’s all.” “I don’t know what’s easier right now.” Tiny had glanced up at me from the laptop he’d just opened. “Do you want the easy way? Or the right way? Your call.”

* T INY AND I spent a good hour discussing our game plan before he left for the hardware store. He re-

coded the home security for the silent alarm to initiate when the external doors opened, rather than if it sensed movement in the house. As much as I hated having to do what we were doing—we had to find a way to permanently keep the windows shut so Bailey couldn’t escape. It wasn’t just her life on the line anymore, it was mine too, and I had to find a way to make her understand that. I knocked on the guest bedroom door and waited. There was shuffling at her end before the handle moved and the door opened, just enough for her to peek out. “Can we talk?” I asked. She nodded and opened the door wider, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to her. “How’s your hand?” “Sore.” “We’ll get some ice on it in a bit.” “Okay.” We sat in silence while my mind tried to form words. “Whatever you need to tell me. I can handle it,” she said. I turned to her, but her eyes were downcast, watching her bare feet swinging back and forth. I hadn’t wanted to admit it before, and I’d never admit it out loud, but even through the cuts and the bruises, she was stupidly beautiful. How the hell she found herself in last night’s situation, I had no idea. “PJ took pictures of you while it was happening. He’s sent the pictures to everyone.” Her brow pinched as she faced me, pinning me with her glare. With a nervous swallow, I continued, “He’s doing it because he suspects the truth… that I didn’t follow through on my promise.” I sighed. “Things are tricky now. You and I—we’re kind of in the same boat. They want you dead, and they can make it happen. And if they find out I didn’t… well, the same can happen to me.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Nate, I didn’t mean…” “Don’t be sorry,” I told her, ignoring the flip of my stomach when she said my name. “It’s my fault.” “Don’t say that.” My hand twitched, itching to touch her, to hold her, to do something to take away the fear in her eyes—eyes that I got lost in every time I looked into them. I stood up and started to pace. “I’m telling you because Tiny and me—we need to take certain precautions for your safety. Which means keeping you here.” “For how long?” she whispered. “Until things die down a little. Until it all blows over and people forget about it. When it’s safe, I’ll let you go, but you can’t stay around here.” “Okay,” she whispered. “You said something about no one looking for you? How’s that possible?” “I’m homeless, Nate. I don’t have parents or siblings, and I made sure not to make any friends. Until last night, I guess. So no. There’s no one. At least that’s one less thing you have to worry about, right?” She seemed to move closer somehow, closer than the walls caving in on me. “How old are you?” I asked. “Nearly eighteen, I think.” “And how long have you been homeless?” “Since I was fifteen.” She sat up straighter. “Nate?” “Yeah?” I answered, unable to look at her. “Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it. I don’t want you getting hurt. Not over me. Thank you for

everything.”

* T INY RETURNED WITH the materials we needed to screw shut the windows. He must’ve thought a lot about the plan because he removed the aerial cable from the TV and disconnected the antenna from the stereo. “It’s better she not know any of what’s going on outside these walls, just in case she gets ideas or gets spooked. News reports can f*ck people up.” I nodded and looked over at her closed bedroom door. “Did you speak to her?” he asked. “Yeah.” “What did she say?” “Thank you.” “She’s something else.” No sh*t, I thought. “Any information released about last night?” Tiny finished drilling the last screw in place and, with more effort than seemed necessary, got up from his kneeling position and threw himself on the couch, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he did. “Cops got called out because of the gun going off. So far—nothing. Just some punk kid who OD’d in his car.” “That’s good, right?” “I guess,” he huffed out, trying to catch his breath. “But seeing the blood on her last night, there’s bound to be more of it out there. It’s just a matter of time.” He clutched his hand to his heart and attempted to sit up straighter. “When this is over, will you hit the gym with me? I feel like the donuts I ate three days ago are wrapped around my heart.” “You got it, man,” I said over my shoulder, moving to my room. “I’ll get dressed. Then we’ll see Uncle Benny. Get it over with.”

* UNCLE BENNY SAT behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as if he was Marlon Brando in The goddamn Godfather. “PJ says—” “PJ’s a dick.” Clearly frustrated, Benny thumped his fist on his desk. “I don’t want to hear this sh*t, Nate. He’s going around calling my number two a puss*. He’s telling people he doesn’t believe you had the balls to take care of it.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s done.” “How? Where did you do it?” “She’s in the same place as Pauly. With the fish.” “She’s dead?” he asked, his tone flat. “Why are you questioning me?” “Do I have a reason to?” “Uncle Benny, you’ve known me since I was born. My dad and you—you were brothers. You accusing me of breaching your trust—of dishonoring The Family—it’s a f*ckin’ joke. I’ve given everything to this job since I was sixteen. While kids my age were screwing around, I was helping you build this empire. I don’t deserve this sh*t, especially from you. And you know that.”

I didn’t wait for a reply; I just stormed out of his office and into Tiny’s waiting car. I’d lied through my teeth, but the sh*t I’d said was what was expected of me—a controlled facade and indestructible armor. Only it wasn’t indestructible. And the girl in my house was proof of that.

10 Nate TWO WEEKS. That’s how long we’d been living under the same roof, barely breathing a word to each other. During the day, I’d go to work, set up meets, and organize the next round of supplies. Before she moved in, I’d occasionally work from home, crunch numbers from the comfort of my couch, but having her here made it seem like I was doing something wrong. Technically, I was. But it had never even occurred to me until there was a threat of someone knowing my business. Plus, being out and about meant I was able to keep my eyes and ears open. I needed to know if any more suspicions were raised or if PJ was still talking sh*t. So, for two weeks we tiptoed around each other. Every night I’d come home, and she’d be in her room, wearing my clothes, under the covers but wide awake. I’d bring her food. We’d eat in silence. And every night, I’d go to sleep wondering what the hell was going on in her pretty little head, and why it was I could never get the nerve to ask.

* I SAT DOWN on the couch and turned on my laptop. Then I started the rounds of passwords needed to actually gain access to anything. Tiny had set it up. See—Tiny wasn’t the toughest guy on the team. He sure as sh*t wasn’t the strongest or the fittest. I chose him as my right-hand because he was smart, especially with technology. But above that, I chose him because he was loyal, because he had the same morals and ethics as I did. Even at sixteen, when I first met him peddling drugs at a corner store, I could tell. I knew, not because he was dealing drugs, but because he chased after some thug who’d snatched an old lady’s purse. He ended up sitting on the dude’s stomach and bitch-slapping his face until he apologized to her. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Tiny—he was a good man. He was also my best friend. After typing in my first password, Voi siete il mio sole, and repeating that same action about thirty times, I finally logged into the site. Sure it seemed dumb to keep our business online, but Tiny had found a way to keep it completely hidden. To anyone who’d, by some miracle, actually get into the site, we’d just be a bunch of too-bored middle schoolers exchanging online gaming scores and trading weapons and whatnot. But what it really was, was a way for the peddlers to let me know what they’d sold in the last twenty-four hours. I clicked on PJ’s profile first, like I’d started to do every time I logged on, hoping he’d be selling below target, so I had an excuse to let him go. Unfortunately, PJ was our best seller—which was why I couldn’t straight up off him. Against his best-laid plans, things had calmed down a little since the day after Bailey had shot Pauly. Though he kept on about it, adamant that she was still around. “Why the f*ck would he take me home instead of letting me watch? Hell, I would have done it for him,” he’d told anyone that’d listen. I wanted him gone, and by gone, I meant the Pauly type gone. Time.

I just needed time. When all this blew over, and she was far away, I’d deal with him then.

* T INY CALLED, TOLD me he was on his way with some urgent news but didn’t want to tell me over the phone, so as soon as he hung up I checked the news websites. And there it was. A fishing boat had found Pauly’s body. No more than five minutes later, Tiny called again. I didn’t bother answering; I just opened the door for him. “I just saw,” I told him. “You know what that means, right?” he said, stepping into my house. It was a Sunday, and it was early. Way too early for me to be thinking straight. Luckily, Tiny didn’t work off a clock. He worked off my schedule, which was why I paid him more than I paid myself. “I’m still wrapping my head around it.” “They only found one body, Nate. You told Benny you’d dumped them both.” Bailey’s bedroom door opened, and she stepped out, her features softening when she saw Tiny. She asked him, “Can I talk to you?” He nodded. “In private?” I crossed my arms. Whatever she needed to say should be said in front of me. It was my f*cking house she was living in. Tiny must have sensed my disapproval because he said, “There are no secrets here.” Her face fell, her frown was all-consuming. She switched her weight from one foot to the other while seeming to contemplate. After a moment of silence, she said, “I have my period. I need stuff.” I headed for my room. “Give Tiny a list of what you need. We’ll take care of it. When we get back, we need to talk.”

* “YOU EVER WONDER what she does during the day?” I asked Tiny as he picked up a box of what I assumed were tampons. “Obviously you do. You also have surveillance cameras set up throughout the house. You could always spy.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s a Sunday. Day of rest. Why don’t you spend the day at home and find out,” he mumbled, distracted by the box. Bailey didn’t have much on her list. Pads, tampons, socks and underwear. That was it. Tiny’s eyes moved from left to right as he skimmed the words on the box of tampons. “How is this a sixteen pack?” He lowered the box to his crotch as if comparing the size of the tampons to his co*ck. I shook my head at him. “You’re such a dick.” He looked around the store and called out, “Yo!” A girl packing shelves a few feet away looked up. “Can you help with these?” Tiny asked. The girl stood from her squatting position and made her way over. Tiny asked, “How does this work? Will this fill her?”

“It’s not—” The girl’s face contorted into a look of disgust. “The sizes are based on flow.” “Flow?” Tiny asked, clearly confused. “Maybe you should just get her one of each, just to be safe.” “They come in singles?” he asked. “No.” She shook her head and picked up three different boxes off the shelf. “That should do her.” “She said I needed to get pads, too.” The girl grabbed a few different packets and handed them all to him. “Anything else?” “No.” She started to walk away, but Tiny yelled out, “Do these have an expiration date?” “No,” the girl said, becoming impatient with his lack of knowledge. “Can I buy a carton of each?” “What?” Tiny shrugged. “She doesn’t get out much.” “Whatever. Meet me at the registers.” She walked away, mumbling something about feeling sorry for his girlfriend.

* “WHAT THE HELL are we doing in here?” I asked Tiny, my eyes scanning the skimpy outfits inside the lingerie store. “She said she needed underwear.” “Surely we could just buy a bulk pack and move on.” Tiny shrugged. “I don’t know, Boss. She’s had a sh*tty life, and it’s only gonna get sh*ttier. She deserves to have at least one nice thing.” The girl behind the register looked us up and down as we approached, clearly confused by our presence. Tiny stood straighter when we got to the glass counter and tapped his knuckles twice on it. “We need underwear,” he announced, like he was the king of f*cking Scotland. The girl raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows and flicked her fake blonde hair away from her eyes. “For your mom?” she asked him. I cleared my throat before Tiny could respond. Her eyes darted to mine, a slight smile forming on her bright pink lips. She said, “Maybe you should try Target?” “You’re a bitch,” Tiny mumbled. She gasped. I pulled out my money clip and dropped it on the counter. “Just give us whatever that will buy.” The girl’s eyes widened when she saw the wad of cash. She hesitated to pick it up like she somehow knew it was drug money. Her scowl turned to a smirk as she started to count it. “There’s almost three grand here,” she whispered. Her gaze lifted, her smile had become huge. “Size?” “I don’t know. Small?” She rolled her eyes. Tiny spoke up. “Size four in underwear—” He looked over at me. “What bra size?” “How the f*ck should I know?” He released a chuckle. “32C.” It was my turn to scowl. “How the f*ck do you know?” He shrugged. “I asked her.”

“Oh.” “What?” he said, shooing the clerk away with his hand. “You think I’d just somehow guessed? I’m not you, Nate. I don’t stare at her tit* all day.” “f*ck off.”

Bailey NATE AND T INY returned a couple of hours later with cartons of tampons and pads and bags upon bags of socks and underwear. I started to ask why they’d bought so much when Tiny cut me off. “Boss has some news he needs to share. That’ll explain the quantity.” I looked at Nate quickly, but he was busy on his phone. Avoiding eye contact with either of them, I excused myself to the bathroom and took care of business. When I opened the door, Nate was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. Instinctively, my gaze dropped. I sensed him move closer, and when I looked up, his hands were above his head, gripping the top of the doorframe. His biceps flexed against the sleeves of his T-shirt, making him more intimidating. I waited for him to break the stare, but he didn’t, and the longer he stood there looking at me, the smaller I felt. “What—” My voice cracked. I cleared it and tried again. “What are you doing?” He quirked an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side. Then he did the worst thing possible; he stepped closer, forcing me to take a step back. I held my breath, not wanting to show how he made me feel. “Where’s Tiny?” I squeaked out, looking over his shoulder. “Gone.” “Gone?” He nodded. I nodded back. He sighed. I released the breath. “We need to talk, Bailey.” “Here?” “You can’t ignore me this way.” I averted my gaze. “It’s kind of impossible to ignore you when I’m staying at your house.” “Yet somehow you still manage to do it.” He had me there. Though I wasn’t ignoring him, I was avoiding him. There was a difference. I kept my mouth shut. “Bailey.” He sighed again while he leaned back against the door, shoving his hands in his pocket as he dipped his head. Then he peered up at me through his lashes. “Have I done something to make you afraid of me because—” “You mean besides holding a gun to my head?” His eyes met mine. I rested on the edge of the counter, balling my fists at my sides. “So you are afraid of me?” he asked. “Yes. No. Maybe.” The corners of his mouth lifted and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to cover his smile. But he was too late, I’d already succumbed to the full effect of it. “So…” he said, pulling a hand out of his

pocket and running it through his hair. “You’re kind of, yet not, but maybe afraid of me?” I’m glad he found it amusing because I sure as hell didn’t. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I didn’t know how. “I’m just waiting.” “Waiting?” I eyed him quickly, before looking away again. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me that it’s time to leave. And also…” I trailed off. “Also what?” I shrugged. “I’m waiting for you to make me pay.” “Pay?” “For my debt to you… for not killing me. And for giving me a roof over my head and feeding me and…” “You don’t owe me sh*t,” he said, tone clipped. He stepped closer to me, so close I could smell him. I stood straighter, my fingers gripping the counter behind me. Raising my chin, I said, “Nothing in this world comes for nothing. I’m just waiting for you to tell me what you want.” “I don’t want anything from you.” “Maybe I do,” I said. “Maybe I need to have a reason for you being so kind to me. For giving me all of this… so just tell me what it is you want.” His eyes narrowed. “What is it you think I want from you, Bailey?” “Sex. Isn’t that what all guys want?” He stayed silent, shaking his head at me. He looked pissed, and I had no idea why. Without responding, he turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the door behind him. The tension left me as soon as he was gone. But I knew it wasn’t over. He was angry. I was avoiding. There was no way it could end well.

11 Bailey I TOSSED AND turned in bed for what felt like hours, although I had no real clue. There were no clocks in the house. This I realized after looking through every room in the entire house. Including the one bedroom that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The house was big, bigger than the one I’d grown up in, with open kitchen and living areas. There were three bedrooms, all connected via a hallway that came off from the living room. The décor seemed old, at least from what I could tell, and definitely nothing like what I’d expect a guy like Nate to live in. But it was comfortable, homey even. With a sigh, I kicked off the sheets and finally succumbed to the guilt I felt from our earlier conversation. I got up and knocked on his bedroom door, and waited for a response. When it didn’t come, I knocked again. I heard shuffling on the other side, and then footsteps approaching, and when he opened the door, I took a step back, my eyes locked on his bare chest. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Were you sleeping?” My gaze trailed down his chest to each individual dip of his abs. His sweats hung low on his hips; the band of his boxers visible. Then I did what I always did when I got nervous or scared; I started counting. My eyes moving from one outlined muscle to the other. I got to four before he said, “Bailey?” My eyes darted to his. “Is everything okay?” I nodded, my mouth dry. “You know it’s three in the morning, right?” “Sorry.” I turned and started to leave when he caught my arm. “No. It’s fine. Are you okay? Do you need something?” I faced him and kept my head lowered, trying to hide the heat in my cheeks. “It’s just that earlier, Tiny said you had something to tell me?” He didn’t respond, and when I finally looked up, his eyes were fixed on his hand on my arm. “Nate? Or should I call you Boss?” “Nate’s fine,” he said, distracted. He blinked once, finally coming to, and released his hold. He used the same hand to comb through his hair. “I had to tell you that…” he trailed off, going back to his room and sitting on the bed, motioning for me to sit next to him. The room was dark, the only light source coming from a lamp at the end of the hallway. “Actually,” he said, “before we talk about that, I wanted to speak to you about something else.” I gripped the edge of his mattress and fought to keep my adrenaline in check. Given my past, I wasn’t a huge fan of sitting in dark rooms with strangers. “Can you turn a light on? I don’t—” “Sure,” he cut in, reaching over and switching on a lamp on his nightstand. When he turned to me, his eyes were so piercing I had to look away. But where I looked wasn’t much better. “And maybe put on a shirt?” “It’s like a hundred degrees,” he said with a sigh. “Oh yeah…” He turned his entire body to face me. “I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I hate that you’d think

that I’d want that from you. I’m not like that, Bailey.” I held my breath as he continued to speak. “I get you’ve had a sh*tty life, and you’ve probably been let down by a lot of people you trusted. But you saying that—well, it made me feel like sh*t, to be honest. You kind of put me in the same category as Pauly and PJ.” I choked on a gasp, my eyes closing as my heart beat out of my chest. “I’m sorry,” I struggled to say through the sob trying to escape. I pushed it down like I always did, and opened my eyes to see him watching me intently. “I know you’re not like them at all.” “Good,” he said, nodding slowly. “I’m glad you know that, and I need you to remember that because you’re going to be here a while and you and me—we can’t live like this—you in fear of me, and me not knowing how to be around you.” I returned his nod. He looked down and blew out a breath. “Someone found Pauly’s body, Bailey.” “And they know it was me?” I rushed out, panic clear in my voice. “No,” he said quickly, placing a hand on my bare leg. I tensed beneath his touch, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. “No, that’s not what our problem is.” “So what’s wrong then?” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The problem is they only found one body. I’d told some very important people that you were there with him. Unless, through some miracle, there’s a dead girl your age matching your description down there… people are just going to get more suspicious.” “So I have to hide for longer?” “Yeah. We kind of both do, Bailey. Because it’s not just you they’re after now. PJ, the rest of the guys, they’re already questioning me. It’s just going to get worse. They’re sitting back, watching me, waiting for me to f*ck up so they can prove you’re still alive. It’s not just about killing you for taking Pauly’s life anymore… now it’s about family, and integrity, and honor. And the fact that I didn’t give a sh*t about any of those things when I decided not to—” “Kill me?” I finished for him. Licking his lips, he nodded slowly. A million thoughts raced through my head. He stood up and leaned on the wall opposite me, then ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “The entire situation’s f*cked up.” His gaze dropped to the floor. Mine did the same. Seconds of silence passed. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally said. I didn’t either. “I always know what to do,” he mumbled, but he wasn’t talking to me. “We could—” I started, but cut myself off when I realized how stupid I’d sound. “We could what, Bailey?” I felt him approach and the next moment, he was sitting next to me, his bare arm brushing mine. I turned to him. “Maybe we could get to know each other a little bit? That way it might not be so awkward when we’re around each other.” He smiled, and my stomach flipped in response. “That could work.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,” I blurted. He arched an eyebrow. I looked away.

“I should go,” I told him, standing up. “I didn’t realize it was so late when I came in, and I’m sure you’re tired.” He shook his head, his eyes wide as he looked up at me. “I’m wired now. I must’ve fallen asleep early.” He reached over for his phone on the nightstand. “You know you don’t have any clocks in the house,” I told him. His gaze trailed back to mine. “I don’t?” I shook my head. “I’ve searched every room in the house, and I can’t find a way to tell the time.” He froze, his face pale and his eyes narrowed. “Every room?” I nodded slowly, afraid I’d done something wrong. “Including the one at the end of the hallway?” I nodded again. “I’m sorry,” I said, but it came out a question. He set his phone back on the nightstand and lay down on top of the covers. I watched him for a few seconds as he stared up at the ceiling, his bare chest rising and falling. “Don’t go in there again, Bailey.” Even though his voice was quiet, I heard the threat in his words. “Okay,” I whispered, stepping toward the door. “Where are you going?” “To let you sleep.” He moved his hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. “Are you tired?” I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “Not really.” He sat up and moved until his back rested on the headboard. “What happened to you, Bailey?” With a nervous swallow, I asked, “What do you mean?” “How did you end up where you were that night? I don’t just mean in the field, I mean in your life, Bailey.” “It’s a long story, Nate.” He pushed off the headboard and motioned for me to sit back down. “I have all night.” I sat down at the foot of the bed, facing him with my legs crossed. “So?” “Before I tell you, can I ask you a question first?” “Sure,” he said, moving closer and copying my seated position. “Do you use what you sell?” His eyes seemed to widen slightly, surprised at my question. “No. I mean, I have in the past, mainly to test, but I don’t make a habit of it.” “Good.” “Why?” “I just don’t like them. Drugs. I don’t like what they do to people and how they can change someone.” “You’ve had experience?” he asked, his head tilting to the side, assessing me. “My dad and his girlfriend.” I didn’t need to see him to hear the surprising anger in his voice. “Did they hurt you?” “Not so much my dad, but his girlfriend.” With the same tone, he asked, “What did she do, Bailey?” “She just hit me a lot.” “So you ran away and ended up on the streets?” I shook my head and looked back up at him. His eyes bored into mine the second they made contact. “I didn’t run away. They just up and left one day. They left me alone and with nowhere to go.”

Nate sat up straighter, his jaw tense and his eyes distant. He ran his thumb across his bottom lip again. “What’s her name?” he asked. “Why?” He responded by lifting his eyebrows, waiting for me to answer him. I didn’t. Finally, he let his shoulders relax. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the sh*tty life you’ve been handed. And about what happened to you that night. And everything that led to you being here.” “I’m not,” I said quickly. “Not what?” “Not sorry I ended up here. It could’ve been a lot worse. Besides, when you think about it, it’s kind of ironic, right? Your guys probably supplied my dad with the drugs that led me to where I was… and now you’re here, supplying me with what he should’ve been giving me in the first place.” “That’s not ironic, Bailey,” Nate said, lying back down and linking his fingers behind his head again. “That’s just bad f*ckin’ luck.”

12 Nate SHE CURLED INTO a ball and fell asleep in my bed. We spent a couple of hours talking. Mainly me asking her questions, questions about her life and her family and about the night it all went down. She answered every one and after a while, she allowed the exhaustion to take over. I watched as her eyes started drifting shut until her body gave in, her breaths calm, her features relaxed. I wondered for a moment if she could ever relax. If she were ever able not to worry about her next meal, her next step, her next decision. At some point, I must’ve fallen back asleep because Tiny’s phone call had me startling awake. I blindly reached over for my phone and told him I’d be out in a minute. The last thing I needed was for him to come in and get the wrong idea about her being in my bed.

* “I JUST NEED a coffee before we head out,” I told Tiny as he followed me to the kitchen. “Did you tell Bailey about the body?” I nodded through a yawn and switched on the coffee pot. A moment later, I heard a door click open. Tiny and I both looked toward the hallway. Luckily the bedrooms were hidden from where we stood. Bailey shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes half closed and her hair a mess. “Coffee?” she mumbled. I smiled at her appearance, the emotion strange even to myself. “You want one?” She nodded and kept taking tiny shuffled steps toward me. She didn’t stop until she was next to me, our sides touching. Then she bent over and folded her arms on the counter, resting her head on them, her ass sticking out in the air. I looked up at Tiny, but he was already watching me, a single eyebrow arched in question. “You both not sleep well last night?” I nudged Bailey’s hip with mine. “Did you have a bad sleep?” She nodded against her arm. “And you?” Tiny asked me. I shrugged. “Worked late.” “Oh yeah?” He looked from me to Bailey. “You should take the day off. There’s nothing important on today. Nothing I can’t do on my own. Besides, I don’t ever recall you taking a sick day.” I nodded and glanced at Bailey quickly. She hadn’t moved. In fact, she was probably sleeping again. I picked up my phone and looked at Tiny as I typed out a text. 7272: Find out everything you can about Bailey.

Tiny’s phone chimed in his hands, and I watched him read the text before his fingers deftly tapped the screen. 6590: Anything specific?

7272: Everything. Her school. Her parents. Her dad’s girlfriend. I want specifics on her. Name. Address. Workplace.

Tiny’s brow shot up, but he didn’t speak. 6590: Got it.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and waved a silent goodbye. A moment later he was gone. I nudged Bailey again. “Mm?” “Coffee or sleep?” “Sleep,” she mumbled, standing up and heading back to the bedrooms. I followed behind her and caught her arm as she was walking past my room to get to hers. She turned around, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” I motioned my head to my room. She didn’t say a word as she got under the covers of my bed. We’re just getting to know each other, I told myself. I climbed in after her and tensed when she moved up next to me, throwing an arm around my waist and settling her head in the crook of my arm. A second later, she was asleep. Two seconds later, I found myself relaxing. And a second after that, I completely convinced myself that there was absolutely nothing—not a single damn thing—wrong with what we were doing. If anything, it felt so, so right.

Bailey I KNEW IT was wrong to enjoy the feeling of him beneath me—to have his hand on my waist as he pulled me closer to him. To feel his exhales on my forehead as his breaths calmed. It was all wrong. I knew I’d started to have feelings for him, the same ones Steven evoked from me that one night which felt like a lifetime ago. Wrong, I kept telling myself. I didn’t want to feel this way, and I didn’t want to trust him enough to let my guard down. And I sure as hell didn’t want to want him. But here I was, lying in his bed, wanting every single part of it. He shifted beneath me, his hand moving from my waist, up my body, and to my hair. He stroked it slowly, then twisted a strand between his fingers. “You awake?” I nodded against his chest. “What are you thinking?” I exhaled loudly but refused to look up at him. “How wrong this is.” His hand froze in my hair, along with the rest of him. “Funny. I was just thinking how right it was.” He sat up, moving me with him. “It can’t be right, Nate. It might be for now, but when all of this is over…” He sighed. “You’re just a girl, an incredibly pretty girl, living in my house. And I’m a guy, Bailey. Who says it’s wrong to want to be near each other like this?”

I got out of bed and stood up. “I do,” I said, ignoring the ache in my chest at his words. He said I was pretty, but he also said I was just a girl. And he was just a guy. And that’s all he thought this was. I felt stupid for thinking more, for wanting more. I left his room and showered in the guest bathroom, the entire time I fought to keep the tears at bay. If this was how he could already make me feel, I’d hate to think about what it would be like after weeks. Months, even. There was no end in sight for my captivity.

* “DID YOU WANT to do something today?” he asked, walking into the kitchen where I was making coffee. I kept my eyes on my cup. “Like what?” I scoffed. “Go outside? Get some fresh air?” He sighed and sat up on the counter next to my resting forearms. “I thought we were going to make an effort to make this work?” My head dropped forward and whatever tiny piece of fight I had completely left me. “I think I’m going crazy, Nate. And it’s only been two weeks. I feel like I’m trapped.” “You are trapped,” he mumbled. “No. Not just physically. I mean mentally trapped in my own head.” I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine. “I feel like I’m going insane.” “I don’t know what to say.” “I don’t know, either.” He jumped off the counter. “I’m sorry, Bailey.” “Me too.”

13 Nate FOR WEEKS I watched the life in her eyes slowly fade, not that she had much to begin with. But the lifelessness wasn’t what tore my insides to shreds. It was the sadness she didn’t bother hiding, the pain and anger that lay beneath the surface. Every night, she’d only speak a few words to me before locking herself in her room. I can’t count the amount of times I stood outside her door, my hand fisted, wanting to knock. I just wanted talk to her, to see her, to ask her if there was anything I could do to make it better. Because I would. I’d do anything. As long as it meant saving her. But she resented me. Hated me, even. I could tell by the way she looked at me, cold and distant. Sometimes, it was as if she’d rather be out there with nothing. Or worse, she’d rather I’d pulled the trigger. How could I explain it to her? That I just wanted to save her. Why wouldn’t she let me save her?

Bailey WEEKS PASSED, AND we were back at the beginning. Me avoiding him, and him… I have no idea how he felt. I spent my days cleaning the house and sleeping and cleaning the house again and sleeping some more. Each day created a different mood. Some days I’d be grateful for my life, other days I’d wished to be out there in the rain with my cold feet stomping on the pavement searching for shelter. It sounds stupid, I know this, but at least out there I knew who I was. In here, I barely existed. The front door opened, and the beeps of the alarm that had become so familiar sounded as he disengaged it. It took all my energy to get out of bed, my head spinning when I sat up straight. I’d gotten weaker over the past few days. Almost as weak as I was when I’d gone days without food. But I’d been eating, so I put it down to my depressed moods and lack of motivation to do anything. I opened my door and lazily walked to the kitchen where I sat at the table, waiting for him to dump whatever food he’d purchased that night. I expected to eat in silence like we did every night. Him watching me, me glancing up at him to catch him watching me, and him not bothering to look away when I did. I picked at a worn spot on the table, ignoring the light-headedness and slow spinning of the room. My breaths amplified in my eardrums. Sweat dripped from my forehead and into my eyes and I wiped them away just as he sat opposite me. He faked a smile. I knew it was fake because he had nothing to be happy about. And if he did, it sure wasn’t me that was making him smile. For a second, I thought about what it could be, and my mind immediately latched on to the image of him with a woman. My throat made a sound as I pushed down the puke. The thought of him with someone in that way made me feel even sicker. “You okay?” he asked.

I nodded and stayed silent. He sighed, reached down next to him and then set a white cardboard box on the table. I looked from the box, up to him, my heart suddenly racing though I had no idea why. “Happy birthday, Bailey. I know it’s not much but—” “What?” I whispered. He lifted the lid on the box and showed me the cake. Two candles—a one and an eight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then proceeded to light them. “I hope you like white chocolate,” he said. There was wetness in my eyes, but it wasn’t sweat this time. “How did you know?” I asked him. “I have my ways.” I swallowed the lump formed in my throat. “I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I stared off into the distance, trying to remember the last time I’d celebrated my birthday. “Blow them out,” Nate said, his voice low as he leaned in closer. “Who knows? Maybe your wish might come true.” I nodded. Closed my eyes. And I wished for freedom.

* HE LET ME choose what to order for dinner considering it was my birthday and all. I chose pizza. Not for me, but for him, because I knew it was his favorite. We sat on the floor of the living room and ate. “I wanted to get you a computer,” he told me. “I had it ordered and everything but Tiny nixed the idea last minute. Sorry.” “You were going to get me a computer?” He just shrugged. “I wanted to get something to help you out a bit. I know you’ve been struggling lately with being cooped up in here all day.” “You noticed?” I asked, looking up at him. “I notice everything, Bailey,” he said with a sigh. “I’m glad you didn’t. That’s way too expensive.” He licked his lips and leaned back on his outstretched arms, his legs crossed at his ankles. “There’s not a lot you can do on the computer without Internet. And Tiny—he kind of crushed my dreams about not allowing you online. Just like he won’t let you watch TV or read books or magazines or anything like that. He thinks it could be dangerous… not just for you getting escape ideas but because it might make you a little crazy not being able to experience it all while you’re in here. He said—” he broke off with a quiet laugh. One I hadn’t heard before. “Let’s just say Tiny’s smart. He thinks with his head and I…” he trailed off, his gaze flicking to mine a moment before looking away. “You what? You don’t think with your head?” He shook his head slowly, his eyes on mine. “Not when it comes to you, apparently.” “So…” I hesitated to ask, “What do you think with?” He sucked in a breath before quickly coming to a stand, and my heart dropped when he walked away. I assumed the moment was over, so I started picking up the napkins and pizza boxes off the floor, but then he returned, sat back down, and held out a small silver box. “It’s not a computer,” he joked.

I picked it up, finding it impossible to breathe. I’d seen boxes like these in the many jewelry stores I’d walked past, but I’d never held one in my hands. A part of me was hesitant to accept it, but a bigger part of me was just too damn excited. And that excitement couldn’t be contained when I ripped the ribbon off and snapped the box open. If I could bottle time, this would be one of them. Every sight, every smell, every feeling of this moment… I’d bottle it so I could experience it over and over. Nate took the box from my hand and removed the gold bracelet, the tiny charms all coming into view. A star. A sun. A rainbow. A car. And about half a dozen others I hadn’t quite made out yet. “I figure you miss the outside world. It’s not much, I know, but maybe having these close to you will make the days go by a little easier.” He laughed once, but it was sad. “It’s dumb now that I think about it. It’ll just make you miss it more.” He grasped my hand and pulled it to him, then proceeded to clasp the bracelet around my wrist. “Do you like it?” he asked, his gaze lifting to mine, his eyebrows arched a little as he waited for my response. And then it happened. A single tear. A single shaky exhale. A single sob. All of it escaped me at once. I hadn’t meant to let it go. “Why?” I choked out. “Why would you do this for me?” His head dropped forward, his shoulders heaving with his breath. When he looked back up, his expression had changed. His jaw was tense; his lips thinned to a line. But his eyes… his eyes held a fear that had me struggling for air. He got up quickly and held his hand out for me. I took it. Then he led me to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle—whiskey, I read—and poured two glasses. He offered one to me, and I accepted. He drank his, and just as I started to lift mine, his hand covered mine around the glass. “Just wait. I need to get this out,” he rushed out. I nodded. And I waited. He took another drink. I sat up on the counter. He watched me watch him. Neither looking away. He rubbed his eyes, which had become bloodshot and distant. Another drink. Finally, he said, “That room at the end of the hallway was my parents’.” “Where are they?” “Dead, Bailey. They’re dead.” He poured another glass, but he didn’t drink it this time. He just stared at it. “My mom died when I was ten. She used to sing that song to me—the same one you sang when I was holding a gun to your head. Every night we’d sing it together, and she’d tell me she loved me.” His teeth clamped shut and anger flamed in his eyes. “She even made me sing it out loud while I was locked in my closet and she was being raped in the room next to me.” I felt the sob reach my throat again. I didn’t deserve to cry. “Nate…”

“I didn’t know what was happening… not until years later. But at the time… I couldn’t save her, Bailey…” I reached up and moved his hair away from his beautiful eyes, and I realized what caused the fear I’d seen in them earlier. I cupped the side of his face, and he looked up, his gaze penetrating mine. “How old were you?” I asked. “Seven.” “You were just a kid…” He leaned into my touch, coming closer and resting his head on my shoulder. I combed my fingers through his hair, stroking gently, hoping to comfort him somehow. Soft and warm, his hands found my legs, and he stood between them. The warmth of his breath on my chest had my fingers curling in his hair. “But I’m not a kid anymore, Bailey,” he whispered. “And now… now you have to let me save you.” We held each other, my hands in his hair stroking gently, him between my legs and his arms around my waist, gripping my shirt in his clenched fists. There was nothing sexual about it. It was comforting in a way I hadn’t felt in years, and after a while, he pulled back, giving me a half-smile that turned my insides to dust. I’d tried hard to ignore my attraction to him, to push those thoughts out of my head. But in that moment, the way he was looking at me, the way his hands rested gently on my thighs… I couldn’t deny it. “We almost forgot your cake,” he said, shaking his head and backing away toward the fridge. “That would’ve been a shame.” We ate cake. He told me about how it took him and Tiny two hours to pick one. Not because they were fussy, but because Tiny wanted to taste every single one. Three times each. It made me laugh, something I hadn’t known I’d been missing, and his eyes lit up at the sound of it. And just like that, my life didn’t seem so dark anymore.

14 Bailey I WAS TWO steps away from his doorway when my legs gave out, along with the rest of me. I collapsed on the floor of the hallway with a loud thud, and I blinked back the fog, my fingers gripping the carpet as I tried to move forward. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I was too weak to stand, so I did my best to crawl while my entire body suffered an ache I’d never felt before. My head dropped forward while the walls spun around me. “Nate,” I tried to yell, but nothing came out. My mouth was dry, though my body was covered in sweat. “Nate,” I choked out. His bedroom door swung open, and it took all my energy to lift my gaze. His gun was pointed at me. I squealed. Right before I lost all my strength, all my will, and all my fight. And I succumbed to the darkness.

Nate A LOUD THUD startled me awake. My first thought was Bailey. My only thought was Bailey. Without hesitation, I reached for the gun under my pillow and tried to settle my heart, just long enough to be able to hear what was happening on the other side of my bedroom door. I thought about Bailey and what she was like when I’d taken her; her silence was deafening. Would she scream for help? It was silent. No footsteps. No whispers. Nothing. I opened my door; my gun held firmly in my hands. I looked toward her open bedroom door, and then down the hall. Nothing. But then I heard it, a small whimper that elevated my fear, and my eyes snapped to the sound, to the girl lying on the floor, her shallow breaths amplified in my eardrums. “Bailey!” I dropped to my knees and moved her hair, trying to see her face. She was pale, her entire body covered in sweat. “Bailey!” I shook her gently, but she didn’t respond. “Bailey!” My heart raced, aching with every beat. Then she inhaled sharply, gasping for air. “Nate,” she whispered. She hadn’t even seen me, but she was saying my name… calling out to me. “I’m here. Just hang on, okay?” I ran back to my room and dialed Tiny’s number. “Get Doctor Polizi here. Now!” “Are you okay?” he asked, panic clear in his voice. “It’s Bailey.” I hung up and dashed back out to Bailey. She hadn’t moved. Without speaking, I picked her up, just

like I did the first night I found her and carried her to her room. “What happened?” She groaned in response, her head resting on my shoulder with one arm around my neck. I held her in my arms as I sat down on the bed. She leaned into me, a single, almost silent sob escaping her. My phone rang. “We’ll be there in ten,” Tiny said when I answered. “What happened?” “I don’t know.” “But she’s safe, right?” “Yes,” I rushed out, forgetting how this must’ve seemed to Tiny. “She’s safe.” I hung up and shuffled back on the bed until I was leaning against the wall. Placing my hand on her forehead, I asked, “Can you open your eyes?” She struggled, but she managed to do it. And it was in that split second, when I saw the honey brown of her eyes, that I finally let myself breathe. “You’re okay,” I assured her, my dry lips finding her warm temple. I tasted her sweat on my lips and kissed her again. “Nate,” she whispered, her head lolling back as she attempted to look at me. Her eyes opened fully just long enough so she could see me watching her. “Thank you.”

* T INY AND POLIZI showed up in under ten minutes. Tiny let them both in with his key and deactivated the alarm at the front door. He called out my name. I kept my eyes on her when I told him where to find us. “What happened?” Polizi asked as he walked into the room, dropping his bag and rushing toward us. I shook my head, wishing to hell I f*cking knew. “I don’t know. I found her like this.” “Where did you find her?” “In the hallway… she was trying to get to me. I didn’t know and—” “Nate,” Tiny cut in. “This isn’t your fault.” “What’s her name?” Polizi asked. “Bailey.” He sat on the edge of the bed and checked her pulse on her wrist. “Bailey,” I whispered in her ear. She reacted by opening her eyes, just slightly. “This is Doctor Polizi. He’s here to check on you, okay?” She nodded slowly and attempted to sit up a little, her arm curling tighter around my neck. Polizi’s eyes moved to mine for a second, and I could see the confusion, the list of questions he wanted to ask. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Polizi was The Family’s doctor. He kept our secrets and in return, he got paid more than any doctor in the entire state. Gunshots, stab wounds, overdoses, anything we needed from him, he was there. Like the rest of us, he kept this side of him private, away from his home, and away from his wife and kids. I’d known him my entire life, and I trusted him with it, so it surprised me that I was questioning whether I trusted him with hers. “I’m going to need you to try to speak to me, okay, Bailey?” he said. Bailey nodded and tried to form a “Yes,” but her voice cracked and she looked down at her lap. “Water,” she whispered. “I got it,” Tiny said, already halfway out of the room. A few seconds later he returned with a glass of water. She almost inhaled the drink, the sounds of her swallows filling the room. Polizi gave his standard doctor smile when she was done and took the glass from her hands, setting it on the nightstand. She curled back into herself, her head on my shoulder again. “Can you tell

me how you’re feeling?” Polizi asked. “Weak,” she said. “And my vision’s blurry. I’m hot. And I’m cold. I don’t know…” The doc continued to ask her questions, and she answered each one as best as she could. “Are you allergic to any foods?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not that I know of.” “Have you had anything to eat today that you don’t normally?” “Cake,” she said. “It was my birthday.” She removed her arm from around my neck and shoved it under Polizi’s nose, twisting her wrist a little to shift the bracelet in its place. “Nate got me this.” She sounded so young, so innocent. Polizi smiled. “It’s beautiful.” “I know,” she responded. Polizi moved toward his medicine bag. “I’m going to have to run some tests so we can find out what happened to you tonight. Have you felt like this before?” She looked up at me as if questioning how much she should tell him. “Be honest, Bailey. You can trust Doctor Polizi. Tell him the truth.” She nodded and moved her gaze back to him. “When I’d go days without food, I’d feel like this. But never this bad. The last few days—” “Days?” I interrupted. “Why didn’t you say something?” Her gaze dropped again. “I didn’t know I was allowed to.” My heart sank. “You felt like you couldn’t tell me you felt sick?” Before she could respond, Doctor Polizi spoke. “I’ll need to get a blood and urine sample and get it sent off to a lab.” Bailey’s eyes widened. “Do I need to go anywhere? Can you do it all here?” Swear to God, there was more fear in her eyes in that moment than the night I found her. Polizi pinned me with his gaze. “Can I talk to you?” I nodded. “I’ll be back,” I told Bailey, kissing her temple again. I saw Tiny’s eyebrows lift from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I only cared for Bailey.

* “I NEED FULL disclosure, Nate. I can’t give her the best treatment if I don’t know what’s going on,” Polizi said, arms crossed. I sighed and leaned against the wall in the hallway. I hadn’t thought things through properly when I’d asked Tiny to bring him here. “She’s here under my protection. Just mine,” I said, making sure he understood that no one else was to know about it, not even Benny or The Family. I added, “She witnessed something, and I’m hiding her out here until it’s safe. That’s all.” That was far from all, and he knew it. He pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “So when you say she’s hiding out… does she get any sunlight? Fresh air?” I shook my head as I stared down at the floor. “Nothing.” “Food?” “Of course I feed her. I’m not—” “What kind of meals is she having?”

I shrugged. “Takeout… leftover takeout.” And even as the words left my mouth I knew it wasn’t good enough. I should’ve been taking better care of her. “Are you… I mean is she… are you… sexually active?” “What? No.” “So you’re not having relations?” “No.” “Is there a chance she could be pregnant?” I opened my mouth, the word no on the tip of my tongue. But then I realized… I had no clue what she was doing before I found her, or how far Pauly went. “I don’t think so. She’s had her period, and we haven’t done anything.” Polizi scribbled a few notes and replaced the notepad and pen back in his pocket. “It’s not always a sign of a negative pregnancy result. I guess that’s something we should rule out.” I nodded, though the thought of her being with someone like that had bile rising to my throat. I didn’t even want to think about the wrath of what would happen if Pauly or PJ had anything to do with it. I’d kill PJ. Daylight. Cold blood. Bare hands. I wouldn’t give a f*ck. I WALKED IN after the doc and resumed my position on the bed, my shoulders tense and my fists balled. “Nate?” she whispered, but I couldn’t look at her. If this was her fate then f*ck it all to hell. “I’ll be able to do the blood and urine tests here. The results may take longer than usual due to your circ*mstance,” Polizi told her. “But I think it’s best we rule out one possibility while I’m here. Bailey, is there any way you could be pregnant?” I saw Tiny step forward, Polizi step back. It felt like a vice had surrounded my chest, squeezing the air out of me while my head pounded. She was taking too long to answer. Why the f*ck wasn’t she answering? Finally, I got the nerve to face her. She was watching me, a perfect frown on her beautiful face. “No,” she whispered. “I’m still a virgin.”

* T HE DOC TOOK the tests he needed, assuring her the entire time that it would in no way put her in danger. Tiny stayed quiet, his back pressed against the corner of the room. But his eyebrows were drawn, watching me intently. Not just me… but me with Bailey. Polizi’s voice pulled me out of my daze. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you,” he said, zipping his bag closed. “Have lots of water, and have Nate close in case it gets worse.” He turned to me. “A word?” I nodded and walked him to the front door. His voice was a quiet murmur when he asked, “How are you holding up?” “Fine,” I lied. “It’s a lot to take on. All of this. Especially in your condition.” “I said I’m fine,” I clipped. He pressed his lips tight and nodded once. “And your meds? Do you need another script?” I rubbed my jaw as I looked down the hallway to Bailey’s closed door. “Yeah. I’m low.”

“I’ll bring it by tomorrow when I check in on her. Keep an eye on your stress level, Nate. It’s not good for your heart.” “I’m fine,” I said for the third time. “Ready?” Tiny called out, approaching us. Polizi nodded and gave me one last look before opening the door and walking toward the car. Tiny waited until Polizi was out of earshot before saying, “Take the day off tomorrow. I’ll handle everything. The day after—you and I need to talk.” I knew the questions were there, but he’d wait. He knew better than to bring them up during such a time. But there was no possible way he could tell how I truly felt: Bailey had become my drug. My addiction. My escape. My salvation. My curious fascination turned obsessive infatuation.

15 Bailey I WOKE UP the next morning to Nate sitting in a chair on the side of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes were downcast, focused on his thumbs circling each other. It was the same position he was in when I fell asleep. “Have you been here the entire time?” I asked. His eyes met mine. “Yes.” “Why?” He ignored my question and stood up. “Do you think you can eat?” I nodded. “I’ll bring you some food.”

* T HE DAY PASSED, and he barely left my side. Even when I took a shower, he waited just outside the door. When I was done, he helped me back to my room and into my bed. I didn’t need the help, I was feeling a lot better, but I took it anyway. It was as if he needed to know he was doing something, anything, to save me. We didn’t talk much, and when we did, it was him asking me how I felt. At some point in the afternoon, his phone rang. Tiny and Doctor Polizi were on their way over. The doctor asked me some questions, took some more tests and then spoke privately to Nate afterward. Tiny used the opportunity to sit on the bed with me. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Good.” “That’s good. Make sure you tell Nate if you need anything, okay?” “Okay.” He got up and sat on the chair Nate had been using. Then he looked down at me; his lips curled into a sad smile. It looked strange on him, this big burly guy who had barely spoken to me. “Bailey, Nate’s a good guy. He’s my best friend and the best man I know. And he cares about you… more than he’s probably letting on.” He looked over at the door as if making sure his words couldn’t be heard. “I know it’s hard, you being in here and not knowing what’s happening out there, but some stuff went down today, and I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to need him to step out for a bit to handle it. Will you be okay without him?” “Is the stuff about me?” “Yes,” he said flatly. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about. We’ll take care of it. I know you’re struggling, and now’s probably not the best time to be calling in a favor from you.” “What do you need?” “Nate—he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He can’t help it. And he can’t help caring about you the way he does. If there’s anything you can do to relieve some of his worries, then I need you to do it. For him, Bailey. I need you to do it for him.”

Nate BAILEY SMILED UP at me, a sight that made my stomach flip. “Are you sure?” I asked her. “Of course. I’ll be fine. Go do your thing.” My lips pressed tight as I glanced over at Tiny, pleading with him to just take care of whatever needed to be done. Even though he said it was urgent, and something I had to deal with on my own, I knew it wouldn’t be as important as Bailey. She added, “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll just stay in bed until you get back. I won’t move.” She drew a cross over her heart with her finger. “Swear.” “Give us a minute,” I told Tiny. Once he’d stepped out of the room, I sat down on the edge of her bed, watching her smile get wider. “Are you sure?” I asked again. She nudged me with her knee. “I’m sure. You’ve done so much already. I’ll be fine.” I placed my hand on her forehead to check her temperature, or, at least, make it look that way. I just wanted a reason to touch her. “Okay.” I leaned down, seeing her eyes close just before my lips met her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” I left the house smiling, but the smile was wiped the second I got in Tiny’s car, and he handed me a piece of paper. “When did this happen?” I asked, staring down at the missing persons report. Bailey Anne Wright. And her picture, the picture PJ had taken. “Last night.” My heart stopped. “Who filed it?” “I’m working on it.” Finally tearing my gaze away from the picture, I asked, “So where are we going?” “To talk to PJ.”

* WE PULLED UP just outside Harwood’s Deli, where Tiny had gotten word that PJ was running his mouth about Bailey and dropping names that shouldn’t be dropped in the open. That’s when Jerry, the owner, called Tiny and asked him politely to get the man out of his store. Which was odd, because PJ and Jerry were friends, and they spent a lot of time together considering the deli was PJ’s territory. Pulling my hood over my head, I stepped inside, surveying the almost empty store before eyeing Jerry. Luckily, he was on our payroll and understood what my presence meant. PJ got up from his stool at the counter. “Well, well, well. I wonder what it is that could possibly bring you to me?” My jaw tightened as I looked him up and down. My gaze flicked over to the owner. “Close the shop, Jerry.” He clapped his hands together. “Everyone out.” There were only two people in the store, and they were more than happy to vacate. PJ went to sit back down, but I gripped his arm and sent a silent message to Jerry—one that he understood. He moved around the tiny deli and closed all the blinds, then locked the door from the inside. The entire time, I fought to keep my rage in check. Feeling my pulse spiking through my body, I waited until Jerry had made himself scarce in the back room before fisting PJ’s collar. I pushed him until his back

hit the counter and my face was inches from his. Then I grabbed my gun and held it to his head. It took some time for him to register what was happening. It always did with me. I’d perfected intimidation. And I’d mastered the act of the perfect calm… His eyes widened, and for the first time since the night Bailey killed Pauly, I saw the fear. And I loved every second of it. Hell, I thrived on it. “You got something to say?” He tried to push me off him, but I held my ground and pushed the barrel harder against him. “You better say it.” “I don’t know where the f*ck the girl is or where you’re hiding her, but I sure as hell know it’s not in the f*ckin’ river with Pauly’s shoes. I know, DeLuca.” His eyes thinned to slits. “I know what you’ve done. I just need proof. But I’ll f*ckin’ die before I let a brother ’s death go unpunished.” “Then prepare to die, PJ, because you’re f*ckin’ insane. And you won’t find sh*t. And even if you think you have, I’ll f*ckin’ kill you before—” Tiny’s hand landed on my shoulder, interrupting me. “Boss,” he said, attempting to pull me away. Jerry walked back out from the storeroom. “My little girl will be here soon. I don’t want her seeing this sh*t.” “No problem,” I said, letting go of PJ’s collar and helping him to stand upright. I brushed down his clothes for him. Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out some cash and dropped it on the counter. “My apologies for the inconvenience today, Jerry. I hope this little altercation doesn’t ruin any future business relations.” “Not at all,” Jerry answered, already busy counting the cash. “Benny’s gonna hear about this bullsh*t,” PJ shouted after me. I turned swiftly, my gun whipping the side of his face. I released it, knowing if I didn’t, I’d put a f*cking bullet through him. My fist landed on his jaw first, and then his nose and everything after that was a blur. “Enough!” Tiny shouted, pulling me off PJ. “That’s enough.” I paused mid-movement, watching the blood spew from PJ’s nose. “You’re done,” I told him, picking my gun up off the floor. He cursed under his breath but didn’t say anything else. Tiny led us both out of the deli and practically shoved me into his car. Once he was seated, he turned to me. “You lost it, Nate. You never lose it.” “Maybe it’s time I start.”

16 Bailey WHEN NATE GOT back, his mood had switched. He came into my room, asked how I was feeling, and when I told him I was fine, he nodded once and left. A moment later I heard him in the kitchen, slamming the cabinets. Slowly, I got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall, stopping in my tracks when he came into view. His palms lay flat on the counter, his arms outstretched and his shoulders tense. His roped muscles popped out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt as he let his head drop forward, his eyes focused on the bottle of whiskey in front of him. I watched, transfixed, as he stood there, unmoving. After what felt like an eternity, he heaved out a sigh and straightened up. “You coming?” he murmured, facing me. I jumped in my spot, then composed myself enough to put one foot in front of the other. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t think you should. You know… just until we find out what caused last night.” “Okay.” He reached for the bottle, and that’s when I saw it; the blood on his knuckles. Without thinking, I lifted his hand with both of mine so I could inspect it. “What happened?” “Nothing,” he said quickly, pulling out of my hold. “Was it about me?” “No, Bailey. It was about me.” And even though I knew he was lying, Tiny’s words from earlier came to mind. Instead of pushing him like I wanted, I changed the subject. “I’m sure I can have a small sip,” I said, jerking my head toward the whiskey. “Just a taste.” He arched a single eyebrow as if surprised by my words. Then he shrugged. “Just a taste. Can’t hurt, right?” I nodded and sat up on the counter. As he reached up to grab the glasses, the bottom of his shirt lifted, exposing the bottom of his naturally tanned stomach. There was something about the way his boxers—ones I’m sure I’ve worn at some point—peeked out over his jeans, hiding the beginning of that V that led to… “Bailey?” My eyes darted to his. “Huh?” Then I dropped my gaze to hide my blush. I knew he’d caught me staring, and there was nothing I could do about it. “You want whiskey or something weaker?” he asked, but I could hear the amusem*nt in his voice. At least I was doing what Tiny had asked. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I said, ignoring the pounding of my heart while I tried to muster the courage to stay put, to not run into my room and shut the door. He used his uninjured hand to pour us each a glass. “Just taste it,” he said, handing it to me. There was barely anything in mine. I eyed it curiously before lifting it to my nose to smell it. It smelled fine. “Wait.” He covered my hand. “Have you had alcohol before?”

I shook my head. “Just go easy.” “Okay,” I agreed, but I didn’t really know what he meant by it. I brought the glass to my lips, confused by the amount of liquid and by his words, and then I tipped the glass and drank it all. Then I spluttered and coughed, my chest, eyes and nose burning. “I said go easy!” he said, but he was laughing. I was still coughing, pounding at my chest. “It burns,” I squeaked. He laughed harder and stood in front of me. His strong hand on my shoulder as he bent at his knees, trying to look at me. I wiped my eyes and held my stomach, feeling the liquid burning inside there. “Is that stuff like… expired?” I looked up at him, waiting for a response. With his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, he just shook his head, his shoulders heaving with each laugh trying to escape. I slapped his shoulder, annoyed at his response to the fire burning inside me. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to compose himself. “But I did tell you to go easy. That’s not how you drink whiskey for the first time.” “How do you drink it then?” “You appreciate it,” he said, lifting the glass. His eyes stayed on mine as he tipped the drink slowly into his mouth, his tongue darting out afterward, licking the taste off his lips. I found myself copying his movements; my eyes fixed on his mouth. A shiver ran up my spine, and a stirring occurred in the pit of my stomach. My chest heaved with every breath, and his did the same. We couldn’t stop looking at each other… until his phone rang. And he cursed under his breath, before pulling it out of his pocket and answering it. “Yeah?” he said, his eyes still on mine. “Okay. We can deal with it tomorrow.” And then he hung up. I jumped off the counter. “I’m going to bed.” “It’s still light out.” “Oh. I’ll just have a nap,” I told him, needing some space to think, and to breathe. What the hell was happening? “Sounds good,” he said, walking past me toward the bedrooms. He didn’t stop at his door, though. Instead, he went to my room. He shifted the covers on the bed and sat on the edge as he placed the content of his pockets on the nightstand. I stood in the doorway, watching, not knowing what to do. “You coming?” “Um…” “We’re just sleepin’, right?” I nodded slowly and made my way over to him. He lay down, scooting until his back was against the wall, making room for me. I hesitated, and he noticed because he said, “I’m tired, Bailey. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Either you get in bed, and I sit on the chair awake and watch you sleeping, or you can do us both a favor, and we can both get some rest.” Without another word, I climbed under the covers, facing away from him. The bed shifted and his arm moved under my pillow, and then his other arm was around my waist, and his hand flattened on my stomach, drawing me closer to him. I felt his breath on my neck as both his arms curled around me, pressing my back against his chest. And then he kissed my shoulder, softly, just once, but it was enough to make me shut my eyes and relive the feeling over and over. “Sleep well, bella.”

17 Bailey NATE STAYED HOME for another couple days. When he had to step out, it was only for an hour or so at a time. No longer was there a separation between us, not with the walls of the house, and not emotionally. He was never more than a few feet away unless we were sleeping. That one time in my bed was the closest we’d been. But he always seemed to find a way to be nearby—slight touches, quick glances, small smiles—all of it had my heart and mind racing, my fingers twitching to touch him back, to do something, so he knew that I didn’t mind his touch. Not even a little bit. “Doctor Polizi’s coming soon,” Nate said, looking up from his phone. “Okay.” I nodded, trying to move the hair away from my face without using my glove covered hands. I was on all fours, cleaning the oven while he stood behind me, watching me I guess. Cleaning was the only thing I could find to do in the house, and even though he said that I didn’t need to—that he’d prefer me not to—I had to. Not just for my sanity, but because it felt as if I was somehow paying him back. He shook his head when I told him that but agreed to let me anyway. We spoke more, about anything we could think of that didn’t consist of my past or his job. It’s not as if we sat down and said those topics were off limits, but I think we both wanted whatever it was we were experiencing to be separate from that. We wanted to just be two people—friends, maybe—who enjoyed each other ’s presence. So we ignored the reasons why I was here in the first place, or at least, we did our best to fake it. I stuck my bottom lip out and blew out a breath, trying to move the hair from my eyes again. He chuckled lightly and bit down on an apple, keeping it in his mouth as he squatted down next to me. He used both hands to clear the hair away from my eyes, then cupped my face in his hands. “Eyyer?” he mumbled, apple still in his mouth. My nose scrunched. “What?” He pulled out the apple with one hand, the other remaining on my cheek. “Better?” I nodded, ignoring how his touch made me feel. “Good.” He stood back up and resumed his position, leaning on the counter behind me and watching me clean. Sticking my head back in the oven, I continued my task. “You don’t have to watch me, you know? I’m sure there’s something you’d rather be doing.” He chuckled. “I like my view just fine.”

* “DIABETES?” I ASKED Doctor Polizi while I looked over at Nate anxiously. “What does that mean?” Nate sat down next to me on the couch and took my hand. “What does it mean for her? I mean, as far as treatment goes?” he asked. The doctor went through, in detail, what type of diabetes I had. He said I’d most likely had it my entire life, but it went untreated. And the fact that I’d probably shrugged off the symptoms as hunger didn’t help. He said I’d need to take something called insulin twice a day, and a whole bunch of pills to

replace the vitamins I was lacking from being locked up all day with no fresh air or sunlight. He said it was a miracle I’d lasted as long as I had without the proper medication. “But I feel fine most of the time,” I told him, even though I was looking at Nate. “Your level of fine may differ from what it really should be. You might think what you’re feeling is normal because it’s constant, Bailey. Hopefully getting you on the right treatment plan will make you feel how you really should be feeling.” I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I stayed silent. He pulled out a box from his medicine bag and sat down next to Tiny on the couch opposite us, then proceeded to lay out the content on the coffee table between us. He pointed out what everything was and what it was used for. Nate sat next to me and typed away on his phone, asking all the questions I didn’t know to ask. All I could really understand was that I had to check my sugar levels and take the insulin stuff twice a day. Four needles. I’d already done a few tests so I knew what it would feel like, but when Doctor Polizi asked me to take a shot of the insulin so he could make sure I did it right, I panicked. I pinched the skin on my stomach with one hand, the other shaking as I brought it closer. I eyed Nate as he chewed his lip, watching me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Yes. It’s just different. I mean… doing it myself. I don’t know…” He exhaled loudly and rubbed his eyes. “Are you afraid of the pain?” “No. I don’t think so…” Doctor Polizi spoke up. “Will it help if Nate does it this time? And slowly you can build up to doing it yourself? Just in case he’s not around?” I released a breath and let myself relax. “Would you?” I asked Nate. “Of course.” I stood in front him, lifting my shirt slightly and pinching the skin again. His fingers brushed mine when he took the needle machine from my hand. He glanced up at me before looking at the doctor. “Will it hurt her?” Nate asked, and my chest tightened at his words. “No more than when we do the blood sugar tests,” Polizi answered. Nate released a nervous breath as his free hand curled around my leg, gently pulling me closer to him. “You okay, Bailey?” I nodded and closed my eyes and, as if on their own, my hands reached for the back of his head, my fingers lacing through his hair. Then I let the world fade around me. In my mind, it was just Nate and me. In this one moment. And even though I knew it was nothing special… it was more than I’d ever felt for anyone. And it was a feeling I swore to treasure. A knot formed in my throat as I thought about the man in front of me. The man who saved my life and was continuing to do so. Not just from the outside world, but from myself. From my pain and my misery. I didn’t have to live in my past anymore. Instead, I could live in the now. And I could live with Nate. And if this was all my life would be, trapped with Nate, it didn’t seem so bad. “Bailey?” I kept my eyes closed so he wouldn’t see my tears. “Bailey, you’re all done.” “I am?” I croaked, finally opening my eyes. “I didn’t hurt you?” “No.” The doctor cleared his throat, pulling my attention from Nate’s worried eyes. Polizi waited until I was sitting down before saying, “I managed to get you some insulin, but it’s not going to last long. I

need to get you a script which is going to be hard without a name to put it under. I’d use Nate’s, but it may raise eyebrows because of his own medication.” My eyes snapped to Nate’s. “You’re sick, too?” “No.” He shook his head quickly and held my hand. “I’m fine.” “But he said—” “Bailey…” His brow pinched as he searched my face. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I promise.” And I knew it then; Nate was, without a doubt, the most important person in my life. Not just because he was my only constant, but also because I cared about him, and I can’t remember the last time I let myself care about anyone. Tiny cleared his throat, and all eyes went to him. “You can use my name,” he said. My breath caught. “Tiny…” He ignored me and motioned his head to the doctor. “Mark Wade. Use that. I’ll give you whatever information you need.”

18 Bailey T INY’S VOICE STARTLED me awake. “I get it, man, I do. But you have responsibilities and work to take care of. The ship doesn’t run without you… and with no ship, there’s no sail.” “That doesn’t even make sense.” Nate laughed out loud. God, it was a beautiful sound. I found myself smiling, but that smile was wiped when Tiny said, “All I’m saying is that we’re falling behind now. It was okay the first day, even the second, but it’s been four days. And you’ve never had time off. People are talking, Boss. PJ is talking.” At the mention of PJ’s name, my heart sank. I didn’t even think about any of that. I was too busy enjoying having him around, too busy being selfish.

* “ARE YOU SURE you’re going to be okay today?” Nate asked. I sat up on the bathroom counter. “I’ll be fine. I’ve taken way too much time away from your work as it is.” He lifted his gaze to mine with the needle in his hand. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn’t, he just lifted my shirt and inspected my stomach. “You know it’s easier for me to do this when your hands are in my hair.” I feigned a smile, too busy worrying about what Tiny had said, and did as he asked, and when I laced my fingers through his thick dark hair, his eyes rolled, an over exaggerated sigh leaving him. “We gotta go!” Tiny shouted, knocking on the door. “Okay!” Nate yelled back, administering my insulin. I kept my hands in his hair as he straightened to full height. “Be careful, okay?” His eyes narrowed, confusion clouding his features. “Shouldn’t those be my words to you?” My gaze dropped, along with my voice. “I heard what Tiny said this morning.” He pulled my hands away from his hair. I thought he’d be mad that I’d been eavesdropping but instead, he linked our fingers together and bent down so he could get in my vision. I shivered, not from the cold but from his touch. His eyes locked on mine, and I sucked in a breath, unable to release it. One. Two. Three. He finally broke the silence. “It’s Tiny’s job to protect me. He’s good at his job because he worries too much. It’s not something you need to be concerned about, Bailey. I swear.” “But I do.” “Well, you shouldn’t.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up with the strength of it. He added, “But if it makes you feel any better, I promise to be careful. Besides, I have something important waiting for me at home.” He arched an eyebrow as if waiting for my response. I had nothing.

Nothing but the numbers in my head. Four. Five. Six. Tiny banged on the door again. “Nate!” Nate shouted, “Hang on!” Then to me, “I should get going.” “Okay,” I whispered. His grip on my hands loosened as he nodded. “Okay,” he said as if assuring himself that it really was. He started to pull away, but the second his back was turned I grasped his hand, my heart thumping too fast. Too hard. Seven. Eight. Nine. Then I yanked on his arm, pulling him to me, and I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to do it. “You all right, Bailey? You don’t look too—” Before he could finish, my mouth was on his… unmoving. He sucked in a breath, taking mine with it and I pulled back, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. I covered my face with my hands just as I saw him licking his lips. “Bailey,” he said, removing my hands and pinning me with his gaze. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” “How long?” I squeaked. “Too long.” My eyes closed as he moved in on me. His lips on mine were warm, soft, just like his touches. They were everything I’d expected, everything I’d been afraid to want. He smiled against my lips and pulled away. “Relax, Bailey. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” And at his words, I knew it was true. He placed his hands gently on my bare thighs, slowly sliding them higher. I tensed even more, my heart racing, my need building. He didn’t go for my lips this time. No. It was worse. He went for my neck, his mouth opening slightly to suck, lick, and kiss me there. I moaned, my fingers back in his hair, gripping tight while he moved a hand under my shirt and to the small of my back. With my legs around him, I tilted my head back, giving him better access and his mouth moved higher, and higher, until he was on my jaw, closer and closer to where I wanted him. I tilted my head down, brushing my lips against his. “You good?” he whispered. Whatever sound I must’ve made was answer enough because he pulled me closer until my center was pressed against him. Then he captured my mouth with his, his tongue darting out, running slowly between my lips, begging for access. I wanted to touch him, kiss him, taste him. I wanted all of it. All of him. And when his tongue slid against mine, I gave into my wants. My needs. He cursed into my mouth as I pushed myself into him. With both his hands on my waist, his fingers dug into my skin, and I pulled back, gasping for air. He didn’t. He moved to my jaw again, and down to my neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wetness as he moved to my shoulder. He used his teeth to shift the loose collar of my shirt lower, lower. Kissing my chest, he licked, sucked, and then kissed again. His teeth ran softly across my collarbone, and I threw my head back in pleasure, stars flashing behind my closed eyes as I panted his name, over and over while I moved my hands to his firm chest. It was too much, and it wasn’t enough. I didn’t know whether to push him away or to beg him for more. His mouth moved down to the top of my breasts as my hands went to the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric so I could feel every single dip of his abs, something I’d wanted to do for so damn long.

My back arched, inviting him, and he moaned against my skin, one arm around my waist, the other leaning on the mirror behind me. His hold was firm, safe, as he kept me in place. He thrust into me, just once, but f*ck was it— Bang, bang, bang. “Nate!” “f*ck off!” Nate shouted back. I covered his mouth with my hand and shook my head at him, trying to contain my laughter. “Don’t talk to him like that.” He pulled my hand away and kissed it once before straightening up. Tiny yelled, “What the f*ck are you doing? We’re gonna be late. Benny’s already blowing up my phone.” Nate rolled his eyes. “Hang on!” “You said that ten minutes ago!” Nate’s shoulders dropped with his heavy exhale. “I have to go,” he said, kissing me once. “I’ll be back before you need your insulin. I put your vitamins next to your lunch in the fridge. Don’t forget to eat. Have them at the same—” “I got it.” I pushed him away and jumped off the counter. Gripping his shoulders, I turned him around and pushed him toward the door. “Go!” With one hand on the knob, he faced me, his gaze pinning me in place as he leaned forward. He settled his hand on the back of my head and pulled me to him, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. “It’ll be good, Bailey,” he murmured, his tone distant. “What will?” “You and me, bella ragazza.”

* I PACED. I cleaned. I showered. Cleaned. Showered. Cleaned some more. It was by far the slowest day in the history of days. I thought maybe I could sleep, make time tick without me counting down the seconds, so that’s where I found myself, in my bed tossing and turning when I heard the front door open and the familiar beeps of the alarm. I practically jumped out of my skin and out of the bed. I was excited, nervous, anxious… all of it, all at once. My hand froze on the doorknob as I tried to calm my breathing, tried to settle my pulse. “Bailey?” Nate shouted. I didn’t respond; my mind racing with too many thoughts… what if he regretted this morning? What if things became weird? What if he wanted me gone? What if he wanted sex and— Before I could finish my thought, he knocked on my door and pushed it open, startling a little when he saw me right behind it. And then he smiled—that rare but perfect smile—and I lost my mind and my breath and my heart in his single display of emotion. “Why didn’t you call out when I said your name?” he asked. “I—” “I was worried.” “About what?” “That maybe you left.” “I wouldn’t leave.” “No?” I shook my head.

“Good.” His gaze flicked to my bed quickly before taking my hands and leading me there. He sat down on the edge and brought me between his legs. The excitement from earlier turned to fear as he settled his head on my stomach and brought my hands to his hair. The warmth of his exhales flooded my belly, inside and out. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, looking up at me. “I just wanted to come home and feel this.” “Me playing with your hair?” He shook his head. “No, Bailey. You. I just wanted to feel you.” I did my best to stop my grin from splitting my face in two. He sighed. “Goddamn it, I missed you.” “I missed you too,” I admitted quietly. “Come here,” he whispered, gently grasping the back of my neck and pulling me to him. His kisses were slow and devastatingly passionate. He kept our mouths locked as he lay back on the mattress, taking me with him. His hand on my neck moved to my hip, his thumb skimming the skin just above my sweats. I tilted my head to the side and licked his lips, just like he did with mine this morning. He moaned into my mouth and I pulled back, gasping for breath. I kissed his jaw, loving the feel of his stubble stinging my lips. I tried to stay in control of the lust that had been building all day while I moved to his neck—kissing, licking, sucking, biting, just like he did. His hands gripped my waist as he pushed up and into me. I bit down on his shoulder when he did it again. And again. “f*ck, Bailey.” A dull ache formed in the pit of my stomach, the same one I felt whenever he touched me. His large hands flattened on my back, under my top, holding me in place as he kept on with the tiny thrusts. He was panting, his hands moving lower while my lips moved higher. He met me half way, covering my mouth with his. No longer slow, our kisses became desperate, and after a moment, he pulled back, his eyes dark, unfocused. He blinked hard before saying, “You have no idea what you do to me.” Before I could react, his phone went off. “That’s the alarm. You gotta take your meds.” But he made no effort to move. Through the lust-filled haze in my head, I managed to get out, “I’m sure it can wait a few minutes.” “Just a few more minutes,” he mumbled, bringing his lips back to mine. His hands moved down my back and to my thighs, lifting me higher on him and drawing them up beneath me. I was straddling his waist, his erection rubbing on my center. Then I tensed. Flashbacks of the night invaded my mind, and I tried to push them back, but I couldn’t. A knot formed in my throat as I pulled away, looking anywhere but at him. “Bai?” He’d never called me Bai before, but I couldn’t enjoy the moment. I couldn’t even look at him. Somehow, he knew, because he linked our fingers together and settled them on either side of his head. “Look at me, Bailey.” Reluctantly, I did as he asked. He squeezed both my hands. “You’re in control. We do what you want. We stop when you want. Always.” I kissed him again. Because I couldn’t not. And when I pressed his hands into the bed, he gave in to me. When I cried into his mouth, he kissed me harder. And when my tears fell from my eyes, he kissed them away. The few more minutes we planned turned to twenty. Me on top of him, and him kissing away my pain.

19 Nate “IT’S ALL THERE,” I told Franco as he eyed the cash in the gym bag between us. “Minus the 20k from the last batch you screwed us over with.” “f*ck you,” Louis Franco spat. “There was nothing wrong with that batch.” Franco—he reminded me of Uncle Benny, not just because he was of Benny’s generation, but also because he was short and stocky, just like all the men in the Franco family. Generations of men failed to do what Quentin Franco had set up. Back in the day, Quentin was the most feared man in Philly. But he was stupid. He deemed his sons next in line instead of his number two. When Quentin had died, there was a bloodbath. Members of his family fought for what was theirs. Dante Franco, Louis’s brother, was one of the reasons I took over my father ’s role. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer… all that sh*t. Fifty years later and it was the same bullsh*t with their family. Only the Francos’ ranking was lower, matching the quality of their supply. I said, “It was sh*t, and you f*ckin’ know it. A kid OD’d a couple months back, and I can guarantee if I did enough digging, it would lead back to your supply.” He scoffed. I crossed my arms and waited, my mask of perfect calm in place. “You’re exactly like your f*ckin’ father,” he growled, leaning back in his chair. I sat forward, resting my forearms on the table. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Franco. I’m better than my father, and you know why? Because I f*ckin’ respect him. Unlike you. Your pops would be rolling over in his f*ckin’ grave if he knew the sh*t you were pushing.” His chair scraped back as he stood quickly, fists pounding on the metal table. “Who the f*ck do you think you are?” he shouted. “Tiny,” I called over my shoulder. With the calm still in place and my eyes never leaving Franco, I said, “Zip up the bag. Take the cash. We’re done here.” “I should call Benny. Tell him what an arrogant, co*cky little f*ck you are.” He spat every single word, emphasizing his hatred. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at me like he had the f*cking right. I arched a single eyebrow. “Go ahead. Call him. I’ll wait.” He reached for his gun. I did the same. But neither of us drew our weapons. “Take an extra ten out for this bullsh*t,” I ordered Tiny. He stepped up to the table and started removing the cash with one hand, the other pointing a gun pointed at Franco, just like Franco’s man had his pointed at me. Franco shook his head, but he didn’t speak. He’d already conceded when he didn’t touch his gun. I knew it would come to this because I knew Franco. I’d researched the f*ck out of him and his family, and that was the difference between the old timers and me. They listened to on-street gossip, I read police and media reports. Believe it or not, the reports were more factual than the sh*t people liked to whisper about.

“ARE YOU LOOKING to die today?” Tiny asked when we were back in his car. “No. I’m just looking to get home.” “That’s the first meet. You have three more before the day is over, plus Benny. Calm your sh*t, Boss.” “I am calm,” I told him, even though it was a lie. And the ache in my chest was proof of that.

* “WHAT THE f*ck’S gotten into you?” Benny said, his tone clipped as he sat in his usual spot behind his giant desk. I smiled at PJ standing next to him, his face completely f*cked up. “Nate! You’re going around beating your own men now?” “PJ tell you why I was there in the first place?” PJ’s eyes widened slightly as Benny looked up at him. “No.” “Jerry called us. Told us to get him out of there. He was running his mouth. Dropping my name. Probably even your name. Telling people our business, Uncle Benny. Frankly, I’m a little pissed you found it necessary to call me in. You deal with your side of The Family. I’ll deal with mine. You shouldn’t have to question what I do. I have my reasons for everything, and you should know that by now.” Benny sighed and rubbed his jaw. “You’re off the clock, PJ. Take some time off.” I smirked. “This is f*ckin’ bullsh*t, Don. I didn’t do—” Benny cut him off. “Give Tiny your phone and your weapons. Nate will call you when he’s ready. Take the time to clear your head, PJ.” He shook his head. “This is my fault. I didn’t take care of things the way I should have when Pauly died. You should have taken some time to deal with his death. He was your best friend, your brother, and now that pain is carrying into your work. It’s a risk. To you, and to The Family.” I stood up and feigned boredom. “Are we done?” Benny nodded. “I’ll wait in the car,” I told Tiny. “Make sure you get everything from PJ. Phone, computer, all of it. And change his online access. He’s blocked while he’s off.” “You got it, Boss Man.”

* “YOU WANNA HANG out for a bit?” Tiny asked, hitting the code to open my security gate. “It’s been a while since the two of us just kicked back.” I thought about Bailey waiting for me inside, and then I thought about Tiny and how he’d react to what Bailey and I were doing. I knew he wouldn’t like it, and I knew the reasons why, but he wasn’t me. He wouldn’t understand. “Um…” “What? You got plans?” “Nah, man,” I sighed, letting the disappoint settle. “All good.” He pulled up at the front door and stepped out. “Just let yourself in. I’ll be there in a minute. I need to make a call.” “Alright, Boss.” On my phone, I pulled up a page I’d saved earlier and called the gourmet, healthy food delivery

service. The sh*t I’d been feeding Bailey wasn’t good enough. Especially given her recent health status. The line connected just as a horrible squeal filtered out of the house. I dropped the phone and bolted out of the car and up the steps to the door. “Bailey!” Tiny shouted. She screamed louder. When I finally got to the door, Bailey had my baseball bat in her hands, beating the sh*t out of Tiny, who was lying on the floor covering his head. He could’ve fought back, could’ve made her stop, but he didn’t. I shut the door so her screams wouldn’t be heard and wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and away from Tiny. “Let me go!” she screamed, swinging the bat anywhere and everywhere. “Grab the bat,” I told Tiny. He got to his feet and removed the bat from her hands, the entire time she cried, screamed, and kicked her legs in the air. “Bailey,” I said in her ear, trying to calm her down. “It’s Nate, okay? I’m here.” She kicked harder, squirming and trying to pry my arms off her. “Bailey! What happened?” I looked up at Tiny. “Was she trying to escape?” “I don’t think so.” She screamed again, her head shaking from side to side. “Bailey!” I brought us both to the floor and held her tight, whispering, “It’s okay,” over and over. Minutes passed before I finally felt her body relax, and then she finally looked up at me, her eyes full of fear. “Nate?” she whispered. I exhaled a relieved breath and moved the hair from her face. “What happened, Bai?” Tiny approached with a glass of water and handed it to her. “I think it’s best we let her calm down first.” She gulped down the water like it was air, her eyes fixed on mine. “You’re okay,” I assured her. And myself. She was okay. My grip on her loosened and I found myself struggling for breath. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, speaking to Tiny. “I thought you were him.” “Who?” Tiny asked. “The man who was trying to break in through the back door.” My heart stopped, and I looked at Tiny. “When?” I asked her. She didn’t answer. Instead, she whimpered, “He saw me, Nate. He looked me right in the eyes. He knows I’m alive.”

* I SPLASHED WATER on my face and looked in the mirror of my bathroom. Color had drained from my face, and my pulse had spiked, blood rushing feverishly through my veins. I gripped the edge of the sink and rocked back and forth, breathing through the sharp ache in my chest. Inhale.

Pause. Exhale. Pause. Repeat. “f*ck it,” I snapped, opening the medicine cabinet. I grabbed the pills Polizi had just filled and popped two in my mouth. “Did you get a look at him?” Tiny asked Bailey from somewhere in the living room. “No, I couldn’t see anything. Just his eyes,” she answered, her voice shaky. My jaw tightened. Once again, I ran the tap. This time, I dipped my entire head underneath, letting the cold water run down my neck and face, calming me just enough so I could go back out and face reality.

* AFTER A HALF hour or so, Bailey had calmed down enough to answer our questions clearly. She sat on one couch; Tiny and I sat on the other, facing her, a coffee table between us. “I was washing the dishes,” she said, her hands clasped together but still unable to stop them from trembling. I wanted to go to her, but then she’d feel my hands tremble, see my fear in my eyes, and I had to hide that, not just from her, but from Tiny, too. She added, “I just turned around, and he was at the back door, looking through the window. The second he saw me, I screamed. If I’d just kept calm maybe—” “No, Bailey. Stop. This isn’t your fault.” “He saw me,” she said, her gaze shifting between Tiny and I. “It was probably only a second, but it felt like forever, and then he ran, and I didn’t get a chance to see him properly. I’m sorry, Nate.” “How long ago?” Tiny asked. “I can’t tell time. Maybe an hour? I don’t know!” she cried. Three things immediately came to mind: 1: How the f*ck did they get through the house security to get to the door? 2: I was with PJ and Benny at the time… a time they’d organized for me to be there. 3: I’d just dealt a blow to the Francos. I looked over at Tiny, my mind filled with too many thoughts, I couldn’t convey a single one. “One thing at a time, Boss,” he said, as if he knew what was going through my mind. “What’s the priority?” “She is,” I said, pointing to Bailey. “Her safety comes first. Always.”

20 Bailey I GAVE THEM all the information I could, but I knew it wasn’t enough. I didn’t care what had happened to me, I only cared about Nate. About the danger that he’d be in if someone found out that he had lied about what he did or didn’t do. And as I watched the concern take over his features, all I wanted to do was go to him, hold him, run my fingers through his hair the way he likes it. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked, looking down at the floor. “Sure,” I whispered. “Not you. Tiny.” Nate waited until Tiny had left the house before finally looking at me, his eyes so dark, so intense, it froze me to my spot. I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t look away and after a while, he sighed and started to get up, just as the front door opened. “Sorry,” Tiny said, holding up a phone. “Your phone was in the car. The alarm’s going off.” “Your meds,” Nate said, getting up and reclaiming his phone. He motioned to the guest bathroom. “Let’s go.”

* T HE SECOND WE were in the bathroom and the door was closed, I was wrapped in his arms, his lips on mine and a million thoughts and insecurities between us. “I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled away. “It’s not your fault.” “I should have been here protecting you.” “You didn’t know.” His hands gripped my waist, and he held me to him, his eyes closing when my fingers found their home in his hair. With his lips soft on my forehead, he asked, “Are you okay?” “Yes. I’m fine. I’m not worried about me, Nate. I’m worried about you. Whoever it was, they know now. They know I’m still alive, and that means that you—” He pushed me gently until my back hit the counter and he lifted me onto it. “Don’t worry about me, Bailey. I’ll be fine.” After releasing his hold, he started to gather my medicine. “I can’t help worrying about you, Nate.” He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me, the softness in his eyes a complete contradiction to what was happening around us. “I promise you,” he said, kissing me once, “I won’t let anything happen to me. I have too much to lose.” I thought about all that time I spent on the streets, all the sh*t I had experienced—I never let myself cry. I’d wanted to, but I never succumbed to it. Because I always believed that if anything happened it wouldn’t matter. I had nothing to lose. But hearing his words, seeing him standing in front of me, his eyes flicking between mine, searching—I knew it. I felt it—why I’d cried the second I saw the man at the door… because Nate was right. For the first time in my life, I had something to lose. I had him. And as wrong as it was, he meant absolutely everything to me.

* I SAT IN silence and listened to Tiny and Nate discuss how this could happen and who might be behind it. There were no declarations of war or revenge. It was all calm, all calculated. “What are we going to do about Bailey?” Tiny asked, the sympathy in his voice apparent. I looked over at Nate, whose eyes were focused on his phone. “Nate?” His gaze lifted, locked with mine. “You need to go into hiding.” “I thought I already was.” “Clearly it wasn’t good enough, Bailey.” He sounded angry. Not at me, but just angry. He focused his attention back to Tiny, who’d been pacing the living room floor the entire time. “Got any ideas of where we can take her?” Tiny asked. My breath caught in my chest, and I ignored Tiny in the room and spoke to Nate. “I have to leave here? You… I have to leave you?” Nate looked at Tiny, then his hands, then the floor. Anywhere but at me. “It’s the only way we can keep you safe. Tiny and I will find somewhere that’s not too far but secluded enough that—” “So I’d be on my own? For how long? I mean, would you come—” Tiny cut in. “Boss, I know you may not want to, but there is another option.” “What’s that?” Nate asked. “The basem*nt.” All color drained from Nate’s face. “No.” And instantly the air turned thick. They stared at each other, waiting for the other to break. After a long moment of deathly silence, I finally spoke up. “You have a basem*nt?” Nate turned to me, fire in his eyes. “No,” he snapped. My stomach dropped, along with my gaze. He’d never spoken to me like that. He sighed loudly. “Go to your room, Bailey.” “I’m not a kid, Nate!” His eyes shut as if he was trying to rein in whatever patience he had left. They’d softened by the time he opened them again, his gaze flicking to Tiny quickly before returning to me. Through gritted teeth, he mumbled, “I just need to talk to Tiny, Bailey. Please.” Ignoring the breaking of my heart, I left and went to my room, and no more than ten minutes later there was a knock on my door. It was Tiny, who motioned to my bed and after we were both sitting, he said, “I have to move you to the basem*nt.” “Okay.” “The thing is, Bailey… Nate—he won’t go down there. Not now. Not ever. Don’t ask him why. It’s just the way it is, and it’s somethin’ we have to deal with in order to protect you. You’ll be safe there. That’s what it’s built for.” Whatever words were running through my mind stayed there, trapped, just like me. I nodded, agreeing to my fate, my fate without the one and only thing worthy of my tears.

* T INY ASKED ME to pack what I needed to bring while he moved my mattress to the basem*nt. All I had were Nate’s clothes I’d been living in as well as the stuff they’d bought me. The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I knew it was Nate. I tried not to take it personally, the fact that he’d so easily given up on me. On us. I felt pathetic. I felt stupid. And I felt so

insignificant, which was dumb considering I’d spent the last few years feeling this exact same emotion. He cleared his throat to get my attention, but I refused to turn around, refused to face him. I was embarrassed and the tears forming were proof of that. “Bailey?” I shut my eyes and let his voice replay in my head, knowing full well it may be the last time I’d hear it. His footsteps neared, and I tensed, waiting for him to say or do something to completely break me. He covered my hands with his to stop me from folding what little clothes I had. “Will you look at me?” I couldn’t. He placed a small bag containing my needles and insulin on the dresser next to the pile of clothes and said, “I got everything ready. You’ll need to do it on your own now…” I could hear the sadness mixed with pity in his voice, and maybe I should’ve cared, but I didn’t. He grasped my hands softly, but I yanked them away. “Bailey…” He bent down, his hands holding mine again. When his face lowered, I turned away from him. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hear his stupid words, or feel his stupid kiss, or love his stupid affection. “You don’t understand…” “You’re right, Nate. I don’t.” I looked up at him, begging for an explanation, but all he did was stare back, pleading with me to leave it alone. Neither of us got what we wanted. And when Tiny entered the room, and Nate dropped my hands like they were balls of fire, I knew it was over. It had never even begun. “Ready?” Tiny asked. I picked up my medicine bag and whatever clothes I could carry while Tiny took the rest, and when Nate whispered my name, I didn’t respond.

* T HERE WAS ONE light. A tiny bathroom. No windows. I assume at one stage there was probably a door to the outside, but a steel sheet had taken its place. Dust was the only thing that occupied the big open space. A shiver ran up my spine as I sat on the mattress. It was cold, not just the temperature, but the atmosphere. The basem*nt door opened, and footsteps thud down the stairs. I watched with bated breath as feet came into view, hoping it was Nate. My heart sank when Tiny appeared, a plate and a drink in his hand. He made his way over and set them both on my nightstand, then towered over me. “I’m working on what happened to the security. No one should’ve been able to get in. It should be fixed tomorrow. Until then, just…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Once he was back at the bottom of the stairs, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to make sure you take your insulin on time.” And then he was gone. I looked at the plate of food, tears filling my eyes, and a surge of anger swept through me. I tried to contain it, but it was impossible. A harsh scream left me as I threw the food against the wall. Stupid plate. Stupid heart. Stupid f*cking life.

All of it was broken, shattered into a thousand pieces.

Nate I SAW THE hurt in her eyes, heard the pain in her voice, felt the anger that consumed her, but what was I supposed to do? I had no other options. Of course, I could tell her the truth, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. I’d rather her not know at all than change the way she looked at me. I’d even rather have her hate me. Besides, how the hell do you tell someone that she was going to live, sleep, breathe in the exact place you shot and killed your own mother?

* LOOKING AT THE basem*nt through the screen of my laptop was almost as bad as physically being there. I’d never had the need to switch to this view on the surveillance stream. In fact, I’d asked Tiny to remove the camera completely, but he’d said no—just in case we needed it someday. It was someday. He swore under his breath when her scream distorted the speakers. I slammed the screen shut. “Be here at seven tomorrow morning,” I told him. I carried the laptop under my arm as I started for my room. Once the door was closed behind me, I went straight to the bathroom and gripped the edge of the sink. It was the only way I could keep standing. The only thing I could do to slow the beating of my heart. The meds from earlier hadn’t helped, and I knew it was too soon to take them again. Still, I opened the cabinet and flipped the lid on the orange bottle and poured two in my mouth. Then I got into bed, opened my computer and spent the next hour watching her cry as she sat on the mattress, her head pillowed by her folded arms resting on her raised knees. Her shoulders heaved with every sob. She stayed like that, never once lifting her gaze, never coming up for air.

* FOR HOURS, I tossed and turned in bed knowing sleep would be impossible. At close to three in the morning, I succumbed to the inevitable and opened my computer, entering the passwords that would allow me to see her again. She hadn’t moved. “Quit being a f*ckin’ puss*,” I whispered. And even as I felt the puke rise and the adrenaline pump through my veins, I couldn’t help but get out of bed and take the steps to reach her. I froze just outside the basem*nt door, my fingers curled around the handle. I tried to breathe through the cluster-f*ck running through my mind and pushed back memories and visions of that room. Bailey. I closed my eyes and thought of her, and the only thing I could think about was how she made me feel, how much I wanted to be with her, how much I needed her.

Bailey T HE DOOR OPENED, and I lifted my gaze, watching a shadow form on the basem*nt stairs. His footsteps were quiet, but fast. I kept my eyes on Nate as he approached me, wondering what the hell he was doing down here. He eyed the shattered plate and discarded food on the floor, and when his eyes

trailed back to mine, he smiled. His reaction was odd, but through my tears and my heartache, I smiled back. Squatting down in front of me, he wiped my cheeks with his thumb. “Is it okay if I stay with you?” All air left my lungs, replaced with new breath, one I needed to get through the night. I got under the covers, scooting to one side to let him in. Once he was lying down, he stretched his arm out, inviting me. I lay my head on his chest and curled into him, my hands gripping his shirt. “It’s pretty sh*tty in here,” he mumbled, kissing the top of my head. I didn’t respond. “We’ll get you a proper bed down here, a fridge and microwave and everything else you’ll need.” I looked up at him, my pathetic smile still in place, and then I leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I have everything I need right here.” He pulled me on top of him and kissed me back, longer and more passionately. “I thought you wouldn’t come down here,” I said, breaking the kiss. “I guess some things are greater than the fears we hold on to.”

21 Nate BOOM! MY EYES snapped open at the sound and I sat up and came face to face with the barrel of a gun. In my arms, Bailey screamed. I tried to focus my vision and settle my pulse, just long enough for me to gather my thoughts. The man stood above us, gun pointed, black ski mask in place, and when Bailey screamed again, I brought her closer to me and mumbled, “Put the f*ckin’ gun down.” Tiny lowered his weapon and removed the mask, his eyes narrowed. “Do you know how f*ckin’ easy it was for me to come down here? You hadn’t even closed the basem*nt door.” “You have a key, Tiny!” “That’s not the f*ckin’ point. Where’s your gun, Nate? Or your phone? I called it for five minutes before I let myself in. You always have your phone. You always answer. I come in and find you in here? Both your lives are in danger, and this is your solution. To screw—” I grabbed his gun, faster than he expected, and turned the tables on him. “Keep talkin’ and I’ll blow the caps off your knees. Get the f*ck out.” “Nate,” Bailey whispered. “He’s just doing his job.” Tiny raised his eyebrows. “And what are you doing, Bailey? Earning your keep?” Blood rushed to my ears, the anger boiling out of me. I jumped to my feet and shoved Tiny until his back hit a wall. “You’re pushin’ it.” “And you’ve lost your f*ckin’ mind.” Bailey’s hand settled on my shoulder, attempting to pull me away. “He’s right, Nate.” Tiny’s eyes bored into mine. “Listen to your—” I pressed the gun against his chest, cutting him off. Slowly, he wrapped his hands around his weapon, lowering it and taking it from me. He used the gun to tap my temple twice. “Start thinkin’ with your head.”

* “YOU CAN’T BE mad at him,” Bailey said, watching me shave in the tiny basem*nt bathroom. “I can be whatever I want,” I murmured, annoyed she was on his side. He had no f*ckin’ right to do what he did or speak to us the way he had. “But you told me it was his job to protect you and that he was good at it. He did his job, Nate.” “So you’re okay with waking up to a gun pointed at you?” “I’m not okay with guns at all, and you should know that…” I kissed her quickly. “I’ll be back before dinner.” She grasped my hand, stopping me from walking away. “Nate…” “Leave it alone, Bai. It’s not your burden. It’s mine. I’ll handle Tiny. You just worry about getting through the day without breaking sh*t.”

“T HE NEXT TIME you feel like making a point, do it without a gun,” I told Tiny once we were in his car. “Are you sleeping with her?” “It’s none of your f*ckin’ business.” He raised his voice. “That’s bullsh*t, and you know it.” “Maybe I’ve been too easy on you that you’ve forgotten who the f*ck it is you work for.” “I’ve given my life to this, Nate. You know I’d take a f*ckin’ bullet for you. I’ve never questioned a damn decision you’ve ever made. And don’t act as if you don’t know that, or know me.” f*ck. He was right, and I knew it. “I’m not sleeping with her,” I said, settling back in my seat. “But you want to be?” “I don’t know what we’re doing.” “Are you… I mean do you have feelings for her?” “Of course I do.” He sighed. “What?” “Just be careful.” “What would you know?” “Nothin’,” he said quickly. Too quickly. Which meant that he wanted to say more. “Just say whatever ’s on your mind.” “You won’t want to hear it.” “That’s never stopped you before.” He pulled over on the side of the road and turned to me, but didn’t speak right away. I raised my eyebrows and waited. “All I’m saying is that she’s young. She’s vulnerable, and she seems pretty naive. From the outside looking in, there are two ways this can go. First,” he said, counting off on his fingers, “she’s going to sleep with you because she thinks it’s her ticket out of this mess. Or, secondly, she’s going to develop feelings for you—feelings that you’ll always question.” I gave him my full attention. “What do you mean?” “I mean… would she have those feelings if you weren’t the only thing in her life that felt safe? Would you still like her if she wasn’t—I don’t know how to put it without sounding like an asshole —easily accessible?” I stayed quiet, letting his words sink in. “And that’s just the immediate situation, Nate. What happens in the future? When all this blows over, and it’s time to free her. Or what happens when she gets sick of being locked up and starts to hate you for putting her there in the first place, because you know that’ll happen. You saw how she was last night. It’s inevitable.”

22 Bailey IF I THOUGHT being cooped up in the house was bad, it was nothing compared to being in a windowless room with nothing but a mattress on the floor. The counting in my head stopped at two hundred and restarted again. Over and over this went on, and none of the times brought me closer to knowing anything. I tried to sleep to make the days go faster, but when your head’s filled with too many questions and your mind can’t switch off, sleep is impossible. I wondered what Nate was doing, where he was going, and stupidly, who he was with. In the confines of the house we could be whomever we wanted, but out there, I had no idea who he truly was. I sat up in bed when I heard footsteps upstairs. My initial fear was replaced with excitement when the basem*nt door opened, and Nate came down. He stood at the end of the mattress and looked down at me, arching a single brow. “Have you been in bed all day?” I made a show of looking around the room at the nothingness that filled it. “What else am I going to do?” He huffed out a breath dramatically and threw himself on the mattress, landing on his back next to me. “f*ck,” he clipped. “This is so uncomfortable.” He reached up and moved the hair away from my face. His eyes were soft, his brow bunched as if he was questioning something, hoping that he’d see the answers in me. Whatever excitement I felt fled when he sighed and averted his gaze. “Did you have a bad day?” I asked. He shook his head, his eyes distant. “Did I do something?” “No,” he said through another sigh, and then he cleared his throat and sat up a little, facing me. “Did you ever date, Bailey?” “No. Why?” He shrugged. “Just wondering what kind of guys you’re into.” “I’m not really into any kind of guy…” I said slowly. “Why? What’s this about?” “Nothing.” “Nate… what’s going on?” He tapped my knee twice, but still refused to look at me. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering what’s happening here.” “Here?” “Between us, I mean. I don’t really know what to make of it.” I shrugged, not knowing what to say. I opened my mouth, willing words to leave me. They never did. “Do you think—” he broke off and released a breath. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just confused, I guess. I’ve had a sh*tty day, and I need to clear my head, and I need to get out of this f*ckin’ room.” “Okay,” I whispered, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

He stood up and left, never once looking back, and I returned to the counting, fighting the tears and the voices in my head. T INY CAME DOWN and brought me food. I administered my meds on my own for the first time. And then I got back into bed and embraced the numbness that would help me get through the pain and the heartache that seemed to be my life.

* I SAT UP when the basem*nt door opened hours later. After a moment, Nate stood over me. “What are you doing?” he asked casually. “Trying to sleep.” “Can we talk?” My anger flared. I lay back down and flipped to my side, pushing my face into the pillow. “You can do whatever you want. It’s your house.” He leaned against the wall next to the mattress and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bailey.” “I don’t care,” I said, voice strained from holding back tears. I hated the way he could do this to me, make me hate him and want him at the same time. “Can you at least sit up and look at me?” “No.” “Please?” I sat up quickly and glared at him. “What do you want, Nate?” He licked his lips, his eyes locked with mine. After a moment, he looked away. He could never look me in the eye when he knew he was hurting me. He swallowed loudly, his voice husky when he said, “Bailey, I don’t know what to make of any of this…” “Any of what?” “This.” He pointed his finger between us. “You and me.” He paused for a beat, gathering his thoughts. “I question why we’re doing what we’re doing. And as much as I don’t want to, I have to question everything.” His voice shook when he added, “You need to be honest with me, Bailey.” “I’ve never not been honest with you. I have no reason to lie.” “Are you using me?” he asked, the huskiness gone and replaced with anger. “Are you with me because you think it’ll weaken me to let you go?” “No!” I snapped. “Jesus Christ, Nate, what the hell kind of person do you think I am?” “I think you’re desperate and that you’d—” “f*ck you!” “Goddammit, Bailey.” He threw his hands in the air and started pacing. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop missing you or wanting you, and it’s wrong. Right? To feel that?” But he wasn’t asking me, he was asking himself. I inhaled sharply, my heart pounding, breaking, healing—all at once. “It’s like you’ve infiltrated my goddamn mind. I used to be focused. I used to be able to think straight. Whatever the situation, whatever choices I had to make, I could make them. I never secondguessed myself! And then you come along, and you flip my entire world upside down. I don’t know what to do, what to think.” He grasped at his hair and tugged harshly. “I can’t f*ckin’ deal, Bailey. I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing.” “So you’re mad at me? That’s not my fault!”

“I’m not mad at you!” He took a few calming breaths and repeated, “I’m not mad at you. I’m just frustrated.” “And how do you think I feel, Nate? I’m locked up in here all day, every day. It was bad enough when I was stuck in your house, now I’m confined to your basem*nt. I don’t see the light of day. I’m stuck here with nothing but my thoughts and insecurities haunting me. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know when you’ll be home or if you’ll be home. I spend all goddamn day worrying about what you’re doing out there, and I have no f*ckin’ way to get to you. What would I do if something happened to you?” I took a calming breath. “You’re the only thing I know, Nate.” “Exactly!” He sighed and squatted in front of me. His voice softened when he said, “I’m all you know, Bai.” “So what?” “So what if I spend my days thinking about you? Falling for you? And you give me what I want because I’m all you know?” “That’s not what I meant,” I whispered, drowning in the clarity of his admission. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. All I know is that these feelings I have for you… I’ve never felt them before. Not even the slightest. And if I thought I could decipher what love was, then I’d probably tell you that’s what it is. It’s just that I don’t—” “Bailey…” he interrupted. “What?” He leaned forward and linked his fingers with mine. “That’s all,” he said. “That’s everything I wanted to hear.” I looked up at him, fear and confusion and hurt and every single damn emotion clouding my vision. He smiled warmly, and then he shrugged. “I guess I don’t know love for me, either.” My eyebrows pinched. “That doesn’t make sense.” Shaking his head, he laughed once. “I guess not.” “Are you saying that you—” “I don’t know what I’m saying,” he said, cutting me off. “Just kiss me already.” “But we just had a fight!” He smirked. “That was a fight?” “Wasn’t it?” “We’re probably going to fight a lot…” he said, eyebrows raised. “And it’ll be hard because…” he waved a finger around the room, “…there’s no escaping each other.” “So what do we do?” “We end them all like this.” And then he kissed me. Once. Twice. And by the third time, he was in my bed next to me, under the covers, kissing my jaw, my neck, my chest. My fingers found his hair, lacing, and tugging. “Nate?” I said into his mouth. He ran his tongue along my lips and responded with an, “uh?” “Have you ever had sex?” He choked on a laugh but stopped the instant he looked up and saw the seriousness in my face. “Well… have you?” His mouth moved from across my cheek and to the spot right below my ear. “I really don’t want to talk about it while we’re doing this.” My hands flattened on his chest, and I pushed him away with so much force he landed on his back.

Leaning up on my elbow, I looked down at him. “Have you?” “Bailey, I’m a twenty-two-year-old guy. Of course I’ve had sex.” “How much?” “How much what?” “Huh?” “Times or people?” My eyes widened. “Actually, no, don’t clarify because I can’t answer either.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because I don’t know.” “Because you’ve lost count?” “Yes.” “Well, at least you’re honest,” I said, climbing to straddle his lap. He linked his hands behind his head and smiled up at me. “That’s it? No third degree?” I shrugged. “Are you having sex with anyone now?” He looked at our joined parts. “Not that I’m aware of,” he joked. Slapping his chest, I said, “Not right now. I mean…” I averted my gaze, trying to hide my true insecurity. “I mean, when you’re out… working. Are you—” “No, Bailey,” he cut in. “I haven’t been with anyone since you moved in. I swear. Do you honestly think I would?” “I don’t know what you do during the day, I only have you at night.” He laughed. “You have me at night?” I nodded as I leaned down to kiss him. “Yup. I own you,” I joked, but he didn’t seem to get it, he just placed his hands on my waist and kissed me back. “I’m yours,” he murmured, his tongue swiping mine as he covered my mouth with his. I pressed into him, feeling his hardness rub against me. A warm sensation flooded the pit of my stomach, then spread through the rest of me while goose bumps broke out, and his fingers tightened. He pushed up with his hips. “f*ck, babe,” he moaned, pulling away. I sat up, causing me to press harder against him. “What?” He didn’t answer. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, peered down to where we were connected. He looked back up at me and bit down on his lip. Then he moved his hand from my waist to my stomach, lower and lower. He didn’t touch me, though. No—it was worse. A moan escaped me as I watched his hand slowly creep into his gym shorts. He adjusted himself, the outline of his dick prominent. I’d never been more turned on in my life. In fact, until Nate, I’d never been turned on at all. I fingered his waistband, moving from side to side. I wanted to touch him, to feel what he’d just felt. His hands were gentle as they grasped my wrists. “Bailey?” My eyes snapped to his. I moved on him, rubbing his entire length between my legs. My body took over my mind and my physical needs, my wants, consumed me. “What are you doing?” he asked, a slight smirk on his face. I let out a frustrated moan and climbed off him, then lay on my back next to him and stared up at the ceiling. I covered my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to hide my embarrassment. The warmth of Nate’s chuckle hit my forehead while he removed my hand. He was sitting up, his smile broad and unrestrained. “What’s wrong?” I shoved him away from me.

He laughed and moved back to his side, facing me. I did the same. He still had the same goofy grin plastered on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “What?” he asked, moving closer. I changed the subject. “Is Nate short for something?” “Nathaniel,” he told me, his voice low. “But nobody’s called me that since my mom died.” “Does it mean something?” “It means given of God.” “It’s perfect,” I whispered. Moments of silence passed before he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him. Resting his chin on the top of my head, he said, “Sometimes you get this look on your face. It’s like you’re completely lost, and you don’t know how to act or who to be. But then you have this fearlessness to you, this bravery, and I don’t understand how you’ve survived what you have, but I’m so damn grateful you did.” I pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were distant, lost in a sea of thoughts. I reached up and ran my thumb across his bottom lip the way I’d seen him do so many times, and he looked down, attempting to smile. “You’re kind of beautiful, Nate.” He rolled his eyes and moved away from my touch. “I’m serious.” I kissed his chin quickly. “And I love it when you smile. You should do it more often.” “I didn’t really have a reason to smile until you came along. You make me forget what my life is and who I’m supposed to be. You make me happy, Bailey.”

23 Nate DAYS PASSED, AND we fell into a routine. I’d work every day just like any other. And then I’d go home, forget my real life, and Bailey and I would play house as if our situation was totally normal. I hated the days, but the nights made up for it. Yeah, I was pissed someone tried to break in. But getting angry and jumping to conclusions wouldn’t solve sh*t. Tiny and I had to be smart, act as if we had no idea that it had happened, because if Bailey wasn’t there, we probably wouldn’t even know. Tiny and I put up a front but behind the scenes, we were working overtime getting the security tightened and trying to figure out who did it, and most importantly, why. Take into account that PJ was still running his mouth, the missing person’s report was still active, and somebody had actually seen her in my house… yeah, it was snowballing, and we couldn’t do sh*t to slow it down. The only thing we could do was keep her hidden and keep her safe. I kept my personal life out of conversations with Tiny. He’d told me his thoughts and he’d made me question mine. And as much as I knew he was just looking out for me, he’d been wrong about all of it. It had placed a wall between us. We talked business and only business. Or at least, that’s what I thought until he turned to me from his seat while driving me home. “You really like her, huh?” I kept my eyes on my phone. “Who?” “The Queen of England, asshole. You know who.” I shoved my phone in my pocket. “Why? You feel like judging me some more?” “I was just doing my job.” “That’s not your job, Tiny.” “But you calling me at three in the morning to come pick you up from some random girl’s house is my job?” I stayed quiet. “You’re my best friend, Nate. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. I can protect you physically, but I can’t do sh*t about your heart.” He cleared his throat and added, “So I was thinking I could work on the basem*nt a bit.” He eyed me sideways. “I know it’s tough—for Bailey, I mean.” He didn’t mean Bailey. He meant me. “Do you think it would help her?” he asked. “Why do you want to help her?” He shrugged as he pulled up to my gate. “Because helping her means helping you,” he said simply.

* SO, FOR THE next couple of weeks, we made a home for Bailey in a place that was once my living hell. In the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong; to give her this sense of hope when the future was so uncertain. But there was a spark in her eyes, one I hadn’t seen before, so I chose to ignore everything else.

I chose to ignore reality.

* BAILEY KEPT HER eyes on mine as she jumped up and down on her new bed, her long dark hair flowing with the movements. She smiled, unforced and completely unrestricted and the sight of it alone did something strange to my heart. Something I couldn’t ignore. “Nate,” she huffed out, her knees bent as she pushed off the mattress. “You should try it!” I stood at the side of the bed and looked up at her. Then I shook my head, though admittedly, I was tempted. “Bai, I’m not jumping on the bed.” She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing at me. “Have you ever jumped on a bed?” “What?” I asked, completely confused. She stepped closer, her hand curling around my neck. “I can’t imagine you as a kid,” she said, almost in a whisper. Her head tilted, her gaze locked on mine, pulling me deeper into the depths of her thoughts. She pressed her waist to my chest and looked down at me, tracing a finger down my cheek. “Or when I do, I just picture you to be sad. Were you a sad kid, Nate?” Sighing, I placed my hands on her bare thighs, my thumb skimming the hem of my boxer shorts she was wearing. “I don’t really know,” I murmured. “Maybe. But I didn’t deserve to be sad. You did.” Her sigh matched mine as she released me and dropped to her knees so we were eye to eye. “I noticed a lot when I lived on the streets,” she said. My eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?” I asked. She didn’t speak about it often, so when she did, I made sure to listen. “People like to give advice where advice isn’t asked for, or needed. Like, if I say I’m tired, someone will say, ‘Go sleep.’ And the same if I say I’m hungry.” Her tone lowered. “‘Well, why don’t you go eat?’” She rolled her eyes. “If I could sleep, I would. If I could eat, I would. And we’re so competitive. I can’t say I’m hungry without someone telling me they’re hungrier, followed by a detailed explanation of how long it’s been since they’ve eaten. Life isn’t a contest for who suffers more. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.” I just stared, unable to look away. She reared back and eyed me sideways. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I blinked, pulling me from my trance, and motioned toward the bed. “So, jumping on the bed, huh?” Her smile widened. “I’m sure there are more fun things to do on a bed.” After an initial moment of shock, I cleared my throat and took a step back. Bailey’s shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping. “Why do you do that?” she whispered. Even though I knew the answer, still I asked, “Do what?” “You always pull away whenever…” I rubbed my hand across my jaw and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the rug she’d taken three hours to choose, now covering the concrete floor. “I just don’t want to do anything to pressure you. Physically, I mean.” The bed dipped when she scooted closer to me, her soft hands wrapping around my arm, pulling and urging me to face her. She waited until I was looking at her before speaking. “I think about it, you know? What it would be like to be with you. To feel your weight on top of me, you between my legs, replacing the memory of what they did to me.” She glanced away. “I want to feel that, Nate. I want to feel you.”

I swallowed nervously, the sound loud and pathetic. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” she said, her final words mingling with her laughter. She didn’t give me a chance to respond before gripping my arm tighter and pulling me with her as she lay down on her back, her hair splayed on the pillow. I leaned on my forearm, half my body covering hers, and within seconds, I was on her, my mouth covering hers, her hands in my hair and mine under her shirt. She pulled back to catch her breath. I kept my lips on her—from her mouth to her jaw, down to her neck. I moved a hand to her waist while my lips skimmed her collarbone, smiling against her skin when her fingers tightened in my hair, her body writhing beneath me. “Nate?” she breathed out. I hummed a response, my lips busy making their way down her body while my hand moved higher, my thumb meeting her breast. “Nate,” she repeated, her tone more urgent. My eyes snapped to hers, my head lifting, everything inside me freezing. “Too far?” I asked. “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that.” I pushed up on my elbow and gave her space to breathe. “Then what’s wrong?” “I love my room,” she said. I tried not to show my annoyance. “That’s good. I’m glad.” I sat up and adjusted myself quickly. “But it just seems so final,” she whispered. She sniffed once, causing me to look at her. Tears filled her eyes and for a moment, I wondered how it was possible to go from pure need to whatever the hell was happening. “It’s not,” I assured her. “It’s just until it’s safe enough for me to get you out of here.” “And then what happens?” she asked, her voice cracking as she sat up. “What do you mean?” She leaned into my touch, her glazed eyes locked on mine. “With me and you, and us? What happens to us?” There was a sudden ache in my chest, emotional, physical, and so damn powerful, my hand automatically went to cover it. My eyes drifted shut, my breath catching as I waited for the pain to subside. “Are you okay?” Bailey asked, her hands on my shoulders, her head dipped so she could see me. I nodded slowly, trying to hide my body’s reaction to her proximity. “I’m fine.” I placed my hand on her leg and looked up at her, faking a calmness in my words when I said, “I don’t know what the right thing to say is, Bailey.” “The truth, Nate.” “The truth is I don’t know.” She nodded as if my words gave her some form of clarity. “When it’s safe, and I’m out, will I still be able to see you?” I didn’t need to respond, she already knew the answer. “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of,” she said, laying back down and taking me with her. “Being stuck here forever or never seeing you again.” There was a desperation in her words, one that matched the way she looked at me. “I don’t know either, Bailey.” She stared at me a long time before looking up at the ceiling, her hands on her stomach, fingers tapping. When I lay next to her and placed my hand on top of hers, she smiled, her eyes moving to mine. Then she chewed her lip while her hands reached up, fingers lacing through my hair when she pulled me toward her waiting mouth. We kissed long and slow as if we had all the time in the world

and nothing and no one could take that away from us. Because in our minds, the lies we lived created the perfect balance between chaos and calm. And while the chaos could kill us, the calm had us aching for one more second, one more moment of self-destruction.

24 Bailey NATE GLANCED AT me quickly before returning to the mirror in front of him. He lifted his chin and bit down on his bottom lip, his focus back on the razor as it ran across his jaw. I watched him, fascinated, while I sat on the bathroom counter. “What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, his eyes back on mine. I reached out and ran the back of my fingers across his jaw, trying hard not to frown. “You look so young,” I told him, and it wasn’t a lie. I’d never seen him clean-shaven before. There was always a few days’ growth, and when he did shave, it was a quick run with an electric razor. But now, his eyes seemed clearer, his jaw more defined. He looked like a kid—a kid who didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders and wasn’t responsible for someone’s life. My life. I tried to smile though I’m not sure if it showed. “You look so handsome.” “Yeah?” he asked, looking away and concentrating on the task at hand. “Maybe I’ll shave more often.” “You don’t have to.” “If you like it, I will.” Somehow, with those simple words, he managed to turn my frown into a genuine smile. I kept watching him while he finished shaving, my gaze skimming his bare chest, down to the dips of his abs and paused for a moment at the towel wrapped around his waist. I hesitated, my cheeks growing warm, before looking further down at the bulge. I chewed my lip, my eyes focused on the outline until he cleared his throat. He smirked. “You okay?” I nodded and looked away. “So this thing tonight…” I said, hoping to change the subject. For months (I assume) we’d been sleeping in the same bed, and the most we’d done is kiss and the occasional grope. I think he felt the pressure of going further more than I did. He washed his razor under the running tap and shook it out a couple times before trashing it. “What about it?” he asked, wiping his face with a towel. He stood in front of me, close enough that I could smell him, but far enough that he wasn’t touching me. “What is it again?” He shrugged lazily. “It’s a preppy party for some rich kid who got into some fancy college. I guess his parents are throwing some kind of show-off party, and while the parents mingle and compare notes on how great their kids are, the kids gather and get f*cked up on whatever I supply them,” he said simply. “So why do you have to go? And why are you shaving for it?” “Because I have to fit in, I guess. And none of the others can get away with it.” He took my hand, and guided me down from the counter, then led me to my room. I sat down on the edge of the bed and continued to watch him dress—he pulled on boxers under the towel, towel off, pants, followed by a shirt. As usual. He dressed more formally, though, wearing dress pants and a dress shirt to go with his new clean look. “Tie or no tie?” he asked, lifting one in his hand.

The momentary act of normalcy had my heart skipping a beat, and I almost let myself forget who he was, who I was, and who we were together. “I don’t know,” I said, my gaze dropping when my voice cracked, giving away my vulnerability. “You look nice either way.” I felt him approaching before I saw his bare feet stop a few inches in front of mine. “What’s up? You okay?” He placed his hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a temperature.” “I’m fine,” I said, moving away from his touch. Nate’s sigh was almost deafening compared to the silence I’d been so accustomed to. He slumped down next to me, his arm brushing mine. “What’s going on, Bailey?” “Nothing,” I lied. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. “It’s dumb.” “So tell me anyway,” he said, his arm around my waist, pulling me into him. I cleared my throat, trying to focus on the safety of his touch. “Will there be girls at this party?” He chuckled, and just like that, a rage built somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I turned to him and pushed on his shoulders until he was flat on his back. His yelp of surprise did nothing to stop me from climbing on top of him, straddling his waist and thumping my fists on his chest, which only made him laugh harder. I narrowed my eyes, my lips pursed. “It’s not funny,” I said, my fist raised. He grabbed my wrist as it came down on him, his laughter dying in the air. “Bailey,” he said, his tone stern. I sat up a little and raised my chin. “What?” His eyes seemed to soften as he looked up at me, slowly releasing his hold on my wrist. One of his hands landed on my thigh, the other reaching up and moving the hair away from my eyes. “There will be girls there,” he said, his voice soft and his eyes on mine. “But it doesn’t matter because none of them are you.”

* HIS WORDS SHOULD’VE been comforting. They weren’t. All I could think about was that he was out there, looking the way he did, and I was in here, feeling the way I did. I went to the bathroom, like I’d done so many times before, sat on the floor and faced the corner of the room. The tiles (which I’m sure were once blue, now gray) were small, penny-sized hexagons, perfect for counting. And count them I did. Daily. For hours. Until my eyes felt like they were about to bleed or my stomach rumbled, and I’d take a break, eat, stare at a different wall, and come back to it. The most I’d counted was 2,684. The least, 2,463. But I’d never counted the same number twice, which I guess is good because it kept me going back for more. Crazy? Maybe. But to me—it was the only thing that kept me sane. Tiny had been around more at night helping to make “my place” more livable. More comfortable. It didn’t really help, but I smiled. I pretended to care, and I did it for Nate because I could see the way he looked at me, hopeful, as if what he was doing was helping me heal, saving me. So I put up the front, and I smiled and nodded and picked out a bed I didn’t care about to go with the rug I didn’t care about and the lamps to match both the things I didn’t f*cking care about. I huffed out a frustrated breath when I realized I’d lost count and started again. Three times I started over before I gave in to the inevitable and accepted defeat. My mind was racing, filled with so many thoughts I couldn’t focus on one, let alone thousands of numbers. When Nate had said that he didn’t know how long he’d be gone for, I almost told him that it didn’t matter. It’s not like I could tell if he’d been gone an hour or five. I didn’t say anything, though. I just

nodded, told him to be safe, allowed him to kiss me on the forehead and then watched him climb the steps like I’d done too many times to count. I swallowed the lump in my throat and grabbed his discarded shirt from the bathroom floor before climbing into bed with it. Pathetic, I know, but I couldn’t deny that I missed him. Every second he was gone felt like an eternity. Tear after tear fell from my eyes. Sob after sob fell silent from my lips. Call it love. Call it longing. Call it plain old loneliness. I may not know what it was—these deep dark feelings I had to keep secret—the only thing I knew was that I feared every single one of them. Even love.

25 Bailey I DON’T KNOW how I ended up back on the bathroom floor, curled in a ball, gripping Nate’s T-shirt like my life depended on it. His breath was warm against my ear, hand shaking my shoulder as he whispered my name over and over, an urgent lilt in his tone that had my eyes snapping open and my body upright the second I came to. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, hand to his heart as he sat back on his heels. I ignored the pounding in my head from getting up too fast and looked around, panic welling in my chest. “What’s wrong?” “You scared the sh*t out of me, Bai.” His voice rose. “What the f*ck are you doing asleep on the bathroom floor?” I shrugged, shrinking into myself. Stupidly, I pointed to the wall and murmured, “I must have passed out counting the tiles.” His brow bunched, his gaze moving to where I was pointing. “The what?” he huffed. “The tiles,” I whispered. “I count them when you’re not home. It helps…” I trailed off. His features changed from confusion to understanding, and he looked over at the wall, his eyes moving quickly from side to side as if he was able to count in a few seconds what typically took me hours. Then his head dropped forward, a long sigh leaving him. “I’m sorry,” he said, blindly reaching for me. I met him half way, my fingertips grazing his before I settled my palm in his waiting one. And when he looked up, his gaze locked on mine, I saw the darkness around his eyes, the redness surrounding his pupils and the agony in his stare. “Let’s just go to bed, okay?” he said. “I just want to hold you.” So I let him help me to stand, let him lead me to the bed, and when he stood on the side of the single piece of furniture I spent the last three years dreaming of and yearning for, I realized how stupid I’d been. Nate—he didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done for me, from the moment he found me, to the moment he saved me, to now. He owed me nothing. And I owed him my life. Stepping forward, I flattened my hand on his chest and looked up at him. He was so tall, so intimidating. “I missed you tonight,” I told him truthfully. “I mean, more than I normally do.” “When I got home, and you weren’t in bed…” His voice cracked and he pulled away, just enough to search my gaze. “…And then I found you on the bathroom floor, and I thought…” “Nate…” It was almost as if everything left him at once—the air in his lungs, the fear in his heart, even the will to stand. He inhaled deeply as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes drifting shut when he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. There was nothing between us now. Nothing but a moment I didn’t realize was defining until it was it too late. With a shaky breath, he pulled me closer, my legs between his and when he looked up, dark, sad eyes stared into mine. “It’s bad enough I can’t be around to protect you, but f*ck, Bailey, I don’t know

what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.” His words felt so real, so raw and so full of anguish and in that moment, there was absolutely nothing more I wanted in my life than Nate DeLuca. And when his eyes began to fill, and he dropped his gaze, hoping I hadn’t seen his agony, I ignored the voices in my head, yelling and screaming that he wasn’t enough, and that he never could be. “Look at me, Nathaniel.” He rubbed his eyes against my shirt, sniffing once before looking up, and when he did, vulnerability flashed in his eyes, a moment of weakness his pride wasn’t strong enough to hide. He started to look away, but I held his head in my hands, forcing him to face me. “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” he asked, attempting to move away from my touch. I held on to him tighter. “Don’t you dare hide your pain or your fear.” Breaking our stare, I added, “Look around you, Nate. Every second of every day, that’s all that surrounds me. Pain and Fear.” I switched my focus back to him. “I’m in the safest place I could possibly be, and you made sure of that. But you—you’re out there every day, and every day it’s a risk. I spend minute after minute worried about you, wondering if you’re going to come home to me.” I leaned down, watching his eyes drift shut in anticipation of my touch. “Don’t hide it,” I whispered against his lips as my hands lowered, my fingers toying with the top button of his shirt. “I feel your pain. I live your fear.” His kiss was calm, his touch was not, and as I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his mouth moved to my neck, my shoulder, my collarbone. The air felt thick in my lungs, as heavy as the weight of our repressed feelings. When I was done with the buttons, I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and laced my fingers through his hair, gripping tight and making him look at me. “We can suffer together, Nate.” I don’t know if it was my words or the moan that escaped me when his thumb brushed my nipple, but something in him switched. There was no longer a trace of vulnerability within him when he slid his hands up my sides, pushing my shirt up and over my head. I stood there in nothing but a pair of his boxer shorts, my naked breasts only inches in front of him. I started to cover them, but he held on to my hands, not forceful but gentle because he knew. He knew I’d want to cover my body, this part of me that no other man had seen before him. And even though my pulse raced when his eyes lowered, taking me in for the first time, I knew I trusted him. Because he’d done nothing but make me feel safe from the moment he saw me. So when he leaned forward, his wet lips parting as he glanced up at me through his thick, dark lashes, I released all prior insecurities and let him do what he thought he needed to do. What he was best at. I let him take care of me. The warmth of his mouth covered my nipple, and my back arched involuntarily, my fingers gripping his hair. He moaned against me, the vibrations pulsing through my skin, through my veins, directly to my core. My body was on fire, my muscles weak beneath his touch. He must have sensed it. Felt it somehow. Because he wrapped an arm around my waist, his mouth still around my breast as he lifted me slightly, his other hand grasping my thigh. He settled me back down on his lap, his mouth switching to my other breast while his hand flattened against the small of my back, fingers splayed as he pulled me closer to him. I could feel his hardness pressed against his slacks, rubbing against my center while his tongue circled agonizingly slow. And I couldn’t tell you if I was breathing harshly, or not breathing at all because all other sensations fled, and the only thing I could feel was the pleasure building in my center. My hips circled, my head lolled back, my hair brushing against my lower back. It must have tickled his thighs because the next thing I knew, my hair was being tugged, over and over as if his

hand had grasped the ends and wound and wound until it was wrapped in his fist. It was almost too much, the lightness of his tongue against my flesh as he moved from my breasts, up my chest, and onto my neck, leaving a trail of wetness behind. The heat of his lips mixed with the cold of the thick air set off a burn somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt it. In the past, when he’d kissed me, when he’d touched me in ways not meant to create the thoughts that would subsequently run through my mind—touches meant to comfort, not to tease—I still wanted more of him but was too ashamed to ask. “f*ck, Bailey,” he said before his teeth clamped down on my shoulder and his hands did the same to my thighs. “You gotta stop with those noises.” I didn’t realize I was making any. “And you gotta stop moving. Just for a second.” It was a plea. One I didn’t really understand until his hand left me to undo the button and fly on his pants. His co*ck sprung free, still restrained in his black boxer shorts, but it was there, and it was hard and when he said, “You keep moving on me like that, and I won’t be able to hold off,” I knew it was for me. He went to adjust himself, but I beat him to it—not to do what he wanted—but to do something I wanted. For once, I wanted to be the one to take care of him. He seemed confused when I tried to slide off his lap, his hand reaching out as if to stop me from going anywhere. As if I would. I wasn’t naive to what I planned on doing next. I lived on the streets for years. Hookers, pimps, and Johns were all part of my nightly stroll through the alleyways while I looked for a safe place to sleep. As I put my hands on Nate’s knees and got down on mine, I tried to push back the memory of my fifteen-year-old self and the fear mixed with interest while I watched a man in the front seat of his car, his eyes shut and his head tilted back. The sea of blonde hair moved up and down on his lap, slow at first and then faster when the man’s hand came down on it. A loud moan had left him just as his eyes snapped open and landed on me standing there, watching him get off. In my memory, I gasped, and in the present, I must’ve done the same because Nate’s hand curled around my shoulder, his face in my vision, eyes right on mine. He said my name, and without thinking, I reached for the band of his shorts so I could finish the task I set off to achieve. But he stopped me, his touch as gentle as always when his fingers circled my wrist only inches from his co*ck. He must have the strength of a thousand men, I thought as I looked up at him. He stood quickly, forcing me to lean back, and kicked off his shoes, and then removed his pants. He kept his boxers on as he moved away from the bed. I spent the time taking him in, and even though I’d seen him like this before—many times before—there was something different in his stance. Something almost powerful about the way he stood over me, his shoulders square, muscles tight, jaw set… but it was the intensity in his eyes that had me sucking in a breath and holding it there. “Lay on the bed,” he said, his voice low and smooth, making his words seem like a command. But then he added, “please,” as he took a step forward, offering me his hand to help me to my feet. Once I was standing, he held me to him, his erection pressed against my stomach, just like his lips were pressed against my neck. “We stop when you want,” he murmured against me. “You say the word, baby.” And with that, he guided me to the bed, one arm cradling me and the other outstretched, palm flat on the mattress as he settled me on it. He hovered over me, his weight on his arm while he kissed my jaw, my neck, and down to my breasts. It didn’t take long for the flames to ignite, for the fire to engulf, wrapping us both in an inferno of lust and need and desperation so strong, the tiny cement box

we called my room could barely contain it. Where our mouths weren’t, our hands were, and we got lost in the moment, in each other, and when he pulled back, his eyes on mine, still intense, still needy, a calm washed over me… the kind I suspected junkies got after taking a hit. Was Nate my drug? My addiction? The thought flipped itself over in my mind, but I didn’t have time to think because his palm was flat on my stomach now, moving lower and lower beneath the band of my underwear. He moved slowly, propping himself on his forearm as his lips met my cheek and then his hand was there, between my legs, invading the place I’d fought so hard to keep to myself. His finger slid between my folds, effortless because I was so damn wet. And I don’t know why, but it must’ve been a surprise to him because he cursed under his breath as the tip of his finger paused at my entrance. I didn’t know whether to tell him to stop or to keep going, so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on his and I trusted my body to tell us what my words couldn’t. My hips jerked up, pushing his finger just slightly inside of me and that movement alone forced a moan to emit from deep in his throat. He dropped his head on my shoulder, his breath re-igniting the fire that was my body, like alcohol poured on an open flame. And then he said, “Tell me you want it, baby. I need to hear you say it.” And so I gave him what he wanted. “Touch me, Nate,” I added a “please” because I wanted him to know I wasn’t just saying it because he’d asked me. I wanted him to touch me. I needed him to touch me. He kept his head low as his hand moved, corded muscles flexing in his arms showing strength and willpower that was all Nate DeLuca. I expected his finger inside me, anticipated the pain of him stretching me, filling me, pleasuring me… but what he did was so unexpected, so much worse, that it took a moment for to me realize what was happening. He traced his finger, wet and covered with my need, around my puss*, never once going inside, and never once touching me where I’ve touched myself during the times I’d thought about him, about this. He tapped and teased and tortured me with pleasure, another flick of a lit match right into a burning inferno, and I knew, without a doubt, that I’d be nothing but ash by the time he finished. And it was that thought that had me opening my eyes, unaware that I’d closed them, and looking down at him. His mouth was an inch below my belly button, shoulders between my legs and my underwear… Where the hell was my underwear? I tried to shut my legs when the realization hit, and he looked up, his finger still teasing. “I need you to trust me, Bailey,” he said, and I dropped my head back to the pillow and tried to push away the embarrassment of him seeing my most private parts in the most private ways. The tip of his nose was the first thing to touch me there, in that spot that craved his attention. “f*ck, you smell so good,” he murmured, and I’d love to describe what happened next with words as eloquent as his tongue, but I have nothing. Nothing but the image of his head between my legs, the pink of his tongue and the red of his lips a blur against my needy flesh. Sparks of light, bright and overpowering, took over my vision and my fingers curled in the sheets beneath me. My hips rose as I bit down on my lip, hoping, praying that I wouldn’t scream and when he held me there… an inch from falling over the edge, he paused and looked up at me, thick, dark lashes doing nothing to hide the lust in his eyes. “So f*ckin’ perfect, baby.” And I came undone. With me under his touch and him under my trust, I came. I came, and I came, and I came until all the muscles in my body uncoiled, and

all the realities settled in. He’d been so gentle, so careful. Even as he wiped his mouth on my thigh before climbing over me, he made sure not to put his weight down on me, aware that it might set off memories I so desperately wanted him to erase. He gazed down at me, raised up on his outstretched arms, his smile a force that shot straight to my heart. “You okay?” he asked. I shook my head, and his brow bunched but I couldn’t speak to assure him that I wasn’t just okay, I was so much better than okay. Full bellies and warm shelters never felt as good as I felt in that moment. I met his lips with my own, tasting my pleasure as I ran my hands down his sides and into his boxers. Nate tensed beneath my touch as he broke the kiss. “I’m so f*ckin’ wound up, Bailey, I won’t last long.” He said it with humor, but the blush on his cheeks and the avoidance of his stare gave way to his embarrassment. With one hand, I reached up, fingers gliding through his hair, and watched in fascination as his eyes drifted shut when my other hand circled his co*ck. He was so hard, but his skin was so soft, and I don’t think I’d ever felt more powerful than I did just then. He moaned loudly—a primal roar—as I started to stroke him, his lips blindly searching for mine. I kissed him with reverence, with passion, with pure wanton lust and when his hips started moving, matching my strokes, and his tongue delved deeper into our kiss, I knew he was close. After pushing his boxer shorts further down his legs, I wrapped both hands around his length as he kneeled between my legs, his arms still supporting him. With his eyes still closed, he said, “f*ck, baby. I’m so close,” and so I worked harder, faster. He bit down on my shoulder the same time I felt him pulse in my hands and the next thing I knew my hands and my stomach were coated with warmth, droplets of it seeping between my fingers and down my wrist. The room filled with the sounds of our heavy breaths and we tried to calm them, but besides that we lay perfectly still, my mind, my heart, my body wrapped around him. He kissed my cheek, so soft and light and a complete contrast to the reason why my lips felt so raw. “I’ll go run us a shower,” he whispered in my ear. And then he was up and walking toward the bathroom, his pleasure on my hands and mine on his tongue, and I watched, a smile twitching on my lips as his perfect bare ass moved away from me. And once he was in the bathroom, our views of each other obstructed by a wall, I kicked my legs and pumped my fists and screamed a silent ecstatic scream. Then I got up, careful not to make a mess, and joined him in the shower, pretending that I was just another eighteen-year-old girl, and he was just another guy—a guy who’d given me my first and most earth shattering org*sm in (I’m positive) all of existence.

26 Bailey T HERE WAS SOMETHING intimate, something romantic about showering together that brought us that tiny step closer to each other. We ignored his erection, standing upright and pressed against my stomach as he held me around the waist, his arms loose behind my back while the water cascaded around us, the sounds of it hitting the walls and the floors creating a barrier from the outside world. It wasn’t until we were in bed, my leg draped over him, my cheek against his chest and his fingers toying with my hair that we actually spoke. “How was the party tonight?” I asked, peering up at him. He was already watching me, his features void of any emotion. “It was fine,” he said, his tone flat. I sat up, making sure to take the blankets with me and covered my breasts as I half turned to him. “Can I ask you something?” I’m not sure if it was my question or the fact that we were no longer a tangle of limbs that made him sigh softly, almost inaudibly. He linked his hands behind his head, the muscles in his chest flexing with the movement and nodded once. “I don’t have to answer, though, right?” I returned his nod. “Do you like what you do?” His brow knitted in response, almost as if he hadn’t heard me, but I’m sure he did because I made sure my voice was loud, clear, and confident. And so instead of repeating my question like he probably hoped I’d do, I waited—which earned another sigh from him before he looked up at the ceiling. “If you’re asking if I carry a smile while I work every day, then the answer is no. If you’re asking if I grew up wanting to be what I am, then the answer is no. But if you’re asking if I’d rather be doing anything else… then the answer is also no.” My mouth opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. I scratched my head, a million questions on the tip of my tongue, but before I could speak his phone rang, the ringtone and vibrations echoing off the walls. He sighed again, only, this time, it was loud, overly exaggerated. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance when he tapped the screen and grunted. I watched, intrigued, as his face changed from irritation to concentration and from that to—“How long?” he said into the phone, but his eyes were on me. “All right.” He hung up and rubbed a hand across his face. Then he sat up, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. “I gotta go,” he mumbled over his shoulder. “What? Why?” I scooted on my knees until I was next to him, sheets twisted around my body trying to hide my nakedness, my vulnerability. “What time is it anyway?” He pressed a button on his phone, and I looked down at it. It was just past seven in the morning. Seven. He’d been out all night working, and then up all night with me, and now he was being called away, and I didn’t want him to go, and so I told him that as I held on to his arm. “Bailey,” he said, turning to me. “You don’t think I’d rather be here with you?” he said, the frustration in his tone clear. “So stay,” I pleaded. He stood up and walked to the pile of clean laundry sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He shrugged on a pair of black boxer shorts and a plain gray shirt before saying, “I can’t, baby.” And there was something about the way he said it, like the pure disappointment eased out of each word, and I knew that whatever it was that was taking him away from me, it was bad. Really bad.

“What happened, Nate?” He walked to the side of the bed, where his jeans were left discarded and after pulling them on and sitting next to me to slip on his shoes, he said, “The less you know, the better.” “Bullsh*t!” I snapped. I was angry that whatever it was, was taking him away on a night (or morning) that should have been ours, and I was scared that the danger of what it could be would take him away not just for now, but for forever. “Just don’t go,” I begged, holding his arm to my bare chest. His phone chimed, and I knew it was Tiny, and I knew it was time for Nate to leave. He kissed my forehead quickly before standing up, gathering his wallet and keys and everything else he needed and pocketing them. Without looking at me, he said, “I don’t know how long this is going to take so don’t wait up, okay?” and then he was off, long strides toward the stairs, taking two, maybe three at a time. The basem*nt door slammed shut and just like that, the ecstasy and elation I’d felt only minutes before were replaced with the same things I’d felt every time he left me. Pain and fear. I shuffled through the pile of clean clothes, picked out a pair of boxer shorts and then grabbed his dress shirt from the floor and slipped it on, subconsciously running my nose along the collar, taking in his scent. I was just about to make my way to the bathroom to count the tiles when the basem*nt door opened, and the sudden thud of sneakers on wood sounded from the stairs. “Did you forget something?” I asked as soon as Nate came into view. “Yeah.” He rushed toward me. “This.” And the second he was able to reach me, he grasped my arms and pulled me to him, his lips consuming my lips, his touch possessing my touch, and his heart… his heart completely owning my heart.

* I’D NEVER BEEN tempted to break Nate’s trust. Break the rules that had never truly been set. But I wanted to then. I wanted to leave the prison of the basem*nt, and I wanted to go upstairs and look outside, not that it had much to offer, but I’d at least be able to tell if it was getting dark or not. I don’t know how long it’d been since Nate left but it felt like a lifetime. Way longer than it should’ve taken for him to deal with whatever he needed to take care of. I’d spent the time pacing, counting tiles, pacing, counting more tiles. I also took my meds and had breakfast and lunch, and it occurred to me then that Nate had never been late for dinner, and so I assumed (or hoped) that it wasn’t yet that time, and I was just being dramatic. The thought created a batch of new air in my lungs, and I was able to breathe easier, just for a while, and count to 2168 before I lost count and had to start again. There were no pens in the basem*nt (Tiny’s advice— something about Anne Frank) so the only things I could mark the tiles with were toothpaste and soap and neither of those things would really help me. Besides, like I said, it kept me sane. The familiar sound of the house alarm beeped from upstairs, and I rushed to my feet, my head spinning from moving so fast, but I ignored it as I ran toward the stairs, heart soaring at the thought of being with Nate again. But then the door opened, a shadowy silhouette appeared, and I squinted against the light from the main house as Nate’s footsteps traveled down the steps, one at a time, not rushed like when he left or like mine when I’d heard him return. Blood. That’s basically all I could see and even though, deep down, I knew that Nate’s body was there, and he was standing and most likely talking, which meant that he was alive, the only thing I could see was all the blood. On his clothes. On his face. On his hands.

And it occurred to me then, why I’d been so worried about him. Why I worried about him every time he left. The circ*mstances in which we came to be weren’t derived from fate, or from a blind date, or a coffee shop moment where we caught each other ’s gaze from across the room. No. Our fate included drugs. Included guns. Included death. I wasn’t aware that my hands were all over him, my eyes filled with tears as I searched for the wound that created the mess in front of me, not until Nate held my wrists, his knees bent, eyes focused on mine as he said my name over and over and over, that I came to. I blinked, tears falling fast and free, landing on my shirt—his shirt—the one I’d taken off of him mere hours ago. My body shook, as uncontrollable as my breathing. “Where are you hurt?” I managed to get out. “Bailey,” he soothed, his blood covered hands releasing me, only to cup my face. “Baby, it’s not my blood.” Relief slammed into me like a tidal wave of emotion, but it only lasted a second before I was back to stage one. Fear. “Tiny?” I breathed out. “Tiny’s upstairs. He’s fine,” Nate assured, trying to keep my gaze locked on his. “Everyone’s fine, Bailey.”

27 Nate T HE SECOND I told her that I was fine, that Tiny was fine, the dam broke. But it wasn’t just a dam. Something else in her unleashed and she’d covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom where she spent the next ten minutes over the toilet bowl dry-heaving, her cries loud, her tears large, drowning out whatever words she was trying to speak. I’d kept quiet, spending those minutes holding her hair and stroking her back. I’d known that it’d been a bad idea to walk in looking the way I did, but I didn’t expect this much of a reaction, this amount of emotion to flood out of her. Once her body had surrendered to her feelings, she leaned her back against the tiled wall, the same one she apparently spent her days staring at, only now she was staring at me, her head resting back on the wall. She seemed like she wanted to speak, so I sat as still as possible, letting her look at me. With each second that passed, her loud cries became quiet cries while her fists balled at her sides and I don’t think I’d ever felt heartbreak until that very moment. At least not as an adult. I wanted nothing more than to tap into her brain, tap into her heart, and find out what she was thinking but the only thing I did was stand up when she did, hold her hand when she grasped onto mine, stand still as she stripped out of her clothes and removed my blood stained ones, and then follow her into the warmth of the shower. It’d been a really long time since I let someone touch me the way Bailey was. Soft, foam covered hands with gentle strokes helped me forget the events of the day. Bailey was still crying. She couldn’t seem to help it and in that moment, I couldn’t seem to help her. So I let her clean the blood from my face, from my arms, from my hands and I was almost grateful she was in such an emotional state that she hadn’t asked what had happened. Not that I would tell her. She kept her eyes on her hands which were working to get me clean, freeing me from my actions, and I kept my eyes on hers. She was beautiful. Even with tear-stained cheeks, shaky shoulders and trembling lips, lips I’ve envisioned wrapped around my co*ck and f*ck—I was hard. It’s kind of impossible not to be when Bailey was standing inches in front of me, naked, wet. Her hair was loose, a thick strand covering one of her breasts and without thinking, I reached out and moved the hair behind her shoulders. Then I palmed her tit*. She froze momentarily but didn’t stop me. Maybe because she knew I needed this. I needed to forget, and she was going to help me do that. Eyes locked, Bailey reached for the shampoo behind me. She dropped some into her palm and put it back in its place. Tiny hiccups had replaced her cries, one sounding just as her hands rubbed through my hair, massaging my scalp. Her back arched slightly, her tit* pushing into my hands and I took it as an invitation to dip my head and take a nipple in my mouth. Her moan could be heard over the sound of the water, and so I moved to the other breast and gave it the same attention. I pulled back when I felt her hand on my shoulder, pushing down. “Get down on your knees,” she mumbled. “I have to rinse this out.” I did as she asked, a little pissed that I had to leave her breasts, but that feeling didn’t last long once I realized that from my new position, her puss* was only inches in front of my mouth.

I didn’t ask. I didn’t warn. When the heat of her puss* pressed against my mouth she gasped in shock, her back leaning against the shower wall and her hands fisting my hair, I spread her legs farther apart, putting one over my shoulder and I licked and sucked, and I ate her puss* like a man starved. Maybe not starved for puss* but starved for comfort, for clarity, and by letting me have her, she was giving me all of that. My name fell from her lips, seductive but strong as she ground into me, using me while I used her. I hadn’t f*cked her. I hadn’t even put a finger inside her. But f*ck, I wanted to. I wanted her. I’d thought about her while I was at that stupid f*ckin’ party last night, surrounded by girls the same as age as her, girls who probably spent hours, days even, trying to look the way they did and still, none of them came close to Bailey. And then I watched the guys, rich and obnoxious as they teased the girls and the girls teased them, and I wondered what Bailey’s life would’ve been like if she’d been brought up different. She could’ve been any one of them. Wealthy, smart, successful, and even if she wasn’t one of them, she’d attract them. And they’d offer to give her the world, a world which she didn’t really want, but the most f*cked-up part is they could give her the world. They could give her everything. And all I had to offer was a f*cking concrete box and a living hell. That thought alone had my fingers digging into her hips, bringing her even closer to me. I wanted to give her everything those guys could offer, but more than that, I wanted to possess her, to own her, and as sh*tty as it sounds, I’d never wanted to f*ck her more than I did right then. I wanted to f*ck her until the only sounds I could hear were our moans and the slapping of our sweaty bodies as I pumped into her. I wanted to knead her breasts, not gentle like my fading willpower had encouraged me to do —but rough. Rough and hard. Because she was f*cking mine, dammit. And as her legs shook, and her back arched and her fingers tightened in my hair, she exploded on my tongue with the sexiest f*cking moan I’d ever heard. I kept her there, her movements jerky as she rode out wave after wave. It was then that I felt the grinding ache in my shoulder. I was jerking off. I didn’t realize I was jerking off, but I needed to relieve the ache, the need, the want. “Nate.” I looked up at her, her body a blur behind the lusty haze of my vision. Her hand landed on my shoulder, my pathetically aching shoulder. Then she smiled and said, “Take me to bed.” I stood quickly, not bothering to turn off the shower, not even bothering to dry our bodies. Instead, I carried her with her legs around my waist and half placed, half threw her on the bed. She didn’t try to cover herself like I thought she would. Instead, she lifted her knees and slowly spread them apart, inviting me. I hesitated, just for a moment, because this isn’t at all what I wanted it to be like—her first time—I wanted to show her love, give her romance—and this sure as f*ck wasn’t it. But then she said the words that tilted the entire world off its axis and set my whole body ablaze. “I want you, Nate. I want you inside me. Please. Make me yours.” I should’ve been more careful, more understanding of the pain she was about to receive, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything other than my co*ck buried deep in her puss*. I kneeled between her spread legs with my dick in my hand and the tip at her entrance and glanced at her one more time. “Please, baby,” she said, covering my hand with hers before guiding me inside her to the

point where I claimed her as mine. The point where she gives up something that I’ll forever possess. To the point of no return. Her nails pierced into my back, her teeth digging into my shoulder as she used it to muffle her cry. Whispered apologies fell from my lips, landed on her skin, over and over as I moved inside her and after a while, she began to move with me. Names, prayers, promises, all of it shared between panted breaths and desperate declarations.

* WE SHOWERED AGAIN, only, this time, I washed her, washed the mess I’d made mixed with the blood of her purity off of the place that was now mine and mine alone. Then we replaced the wet sheets from the bed and climbed back in, a tangle of limbs as we held on to each other. “So…” I started, stroking the wet strands of her hair as she laid half on top of me. “Tiny and I have some stuff we have to do tomorrow morning, but he thinks it’s a good idea for us to lay low for a few days.” She looked up at me, her eyebrows raised. “So that means you’re home for a while?” I nodded. “Tiny’s going to be staying here, just as an extra precaution, I guess, so I’ll probably spend a bit of time with him. I feel bad him being here and me locking myself away with you.” “That’s cool,” she said, attempting to hide her smile. “I’m just happy I get to be with you a little more.” “Me too.” I kissed the top of her head. “He says he wants to check out a gym to go to together. I’ve promised him since you moved in, and I keep putting it off.” “That sounds like fun.” She settled back in the crook of my arm and traced my stomach muscles with her finger and this strange calm—a state of nirvana—washed over me. I realized that I’d give anything for this to be my life. For her to be my life. And for the first time since I was sixteen, since I made the choice to give The Family my life, since I stood in front of Uncle Benny and made a promise to him to honor my father ’s death—at the same time I promised myself redemption for my mother ’s—that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want the job anymore. Bailey’s giggle cut through my thoughts. “What’s funny?” I asked, peering down at her. “Tiny sure could use the gym time,” she said, the joke rolling off her tongue. She looked up at me, her smile so pure and so genuine and I wished more than anything in the world, that this wasn’t our life. That we were able to be out there, loving each other freely and honestly, because I’d give up the world if I could’ve met her as her and have her fall in love with me for me. She winced when she draped her legs over mine. I lifted her chin, her eyes clear as she stared back into mine. “Was I too rough? How badly did I hurt you?” I asked. She drew back a little, relaxed and lazy in our post sex, post blood, post murderous-rage bliss. Well, the last two were more mine than hers but I pushed back the thought at the same time she answered, “A little. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t seen or felt how big you were. I guess I just didn’t expect it to feel so big inside me.” I smiled—I couldn’t help it—and flipped us over until she was beneath me. My mouth finding the crook of her neck as I murmured into her skin, “That’s ’cause your puss*’s so f*ckin’ tight, baby.” She moaned, her head tilting back so I could kiss her neck. “Is that good or…?” “So good,” I said, my lips trailing down her neck toward her breast. I was already hard—or still

hard, I should say. “Your puss*’s perfect. You’re perfect, Bailey. So f*ckin’ perfect.” I took her nipple into my mouth while her fingers found my hair, stroking gently. “Do you like that?” she asked. “Talking dirty, I mean.” I pulled away and gazed up at her. “I didn’t really know I was. I can stop if it bothers you,” I told her, a little deflated. She shook her head. “No. Don’t stop. I think… it kind of turns me on.” I smirked. “Oh yeah?” She nodded, and I went back to business. Back to worshipping her perfect breasts that go with her perfect everything else. “Nate?” “Mmm?” “Will you teach me?” I pulled back. “Teach you what?” “What you like… sex wise, I mean. How you like things done and what turns you on.” My co*ck throbbed against her leg, and all I could do was nod because I couldn’t speak. My voice was somewhere closer to my balls than my throat, or maybe that was my cum, because f*ck, her words got to me. “Good,” she said, returning my nod, her hands pressing on the back of my head until my mouth found her nipple again. For a few minutes, the room filled with the sounds of her pleasure, of my mouth as it explored every inch of her tit*. And then she said, “Nate?” so I stopped and looked up at her, eyebrow quirked, co*ck in my hand ready to go again. “You’re not going to tell me what happened today, are you?” I released my co*ck, as well as a frustrated breath. “No.” “Why?” I sighed. “Because it’s better this way. The less you know, the less you’ll be accountable for if anything happens.” “Was it about me?” she asked, her hands slowing in my hair. I looked down at her breasts, at the perfect shade of pink surrounding her tight, perky nipples and I drew in a breath. Released it. And then drew in another. “Nate?” Bailey said, my eyes drifted shut, my jaw tense because I knew I had no right to be as angry as I was getting, especially with her. She sat up, pushing me back onto my heels, my hard-on sticking up in front of me. “I think I’m ready,” she said, and I mumbled a “huh?” confusion clear in my tone. She chuckled lightly as she got on her knees and elbows in front of me, her ass in the air as if waiting for me to take her from behind. Then she reached for my co*ck and lowered her head at the same time, and with the tip of my dick less than in inch from her mouth, she licked her lips, drew her eyes away from my co*ck and looked up at me. “Teach me. Show me how you like it.”

* IT’S STRANGE HOW something like sex, or the euphoria of an org*sm, can pull you away from the things that lay at the forefront of your mind. It’s as if it has the power to erase all memories, all thought process, but only for a while. And when you come down from the high, from the pure physical bliss, all you’re left with is your forgotten thoughts. And as Bailey lay with her head on my chest, her soft slumbered breaths doing nothing to lull my demons, I reached for my discarded jeans on the floor

next to the bed and pulled out the tiny bag of cocaine. Then I looked at Bailey, my fingers stroking her hair, and then back at the drugs. One hit. I’d just need one hit to clear my head. To clear the memories. To clear my conscience.

28 Nate Three hours earlier A KID HAD overdosed. Not just any kid. The kid whose congratulations-on-being-a-perfect-f*ckingposter-child party I’d just been to had overdosed. His parents had found him dead in his bed, apparently, and because of his last name, and the wealth and social standards linked to that name, the media was already all over it. Not just the media, but the cops, the users, and the pushers. f*ck, everybody knew about it. And because of that, we had to act fast. We had to cover our bases, and we had to make sure that none of it led back to us and our supply. For months, everything had been fine—no deaths caused by drugs (at least from what we were supplying). So I thought the last altercation we had with the Francos had sent the message that we weren’t to be f*cked with. I’d wanted to find a new supplier, but Uncle Benny had been dealing with the Francos since before I was born and he wouldn’t even consider it. So I put up with the sh*tty supply and made it clear to Louis Franco that we were close, and we were watching every single f*cking thing he did, waiting for him to f*ck up so I could cut ties. He’d f*cked up, and he’d f*cked up good. I’d kept everything low key, had made the calls and set up the appropriate meetings, and a couple of hours later, we were pulling into a parking lot of an abandoned motel on the outskirts of Philly. I rolled my eyes when Louis Franco came into view because f*ck if he didn’t look like your stereotypical criminal. But, of course, he was a Franco and just like the rest of his family, he wanted everyone to know he ran on the wrong side of the law because his image was more important than his job. And other people’s lives, apparently. “You here about that dead kid?” Franco asked as we pulled up in front of him. I checked my weapon, made sure it was loaded and opened the door to step out. “I didn’t know it was a meeting where we needed muscle,” Franco added, pointing to Tiny. After shoving the pistol in my waistband, I stepped out of the car and made my way over to him. “Augustus Sherman,” Tiny said, and Franco narrowed his eyes at him, confusion clear on his face. Tiny repeated the name, a name I was all too familiar with. “The dead kid?” Tiny continued. “That’s his name. Augustus Sherman.” Franco laughed. “Well f*ck, with a name like that he was begging to be killed.” I don’t know why it bothered me so much—his disrespect for this dead kid who was literally going places, whose only fault was enjoying the occasional high while still being able to maintain a decent lifestyle. Maybe it was because I’d found myself comparing those kids to Bailey, and somehow that had given me a soft spot for them (at the same time I wanted to punch them out of pure jealousy). Who f*cking knows? Either way, I found myself reaching for my gun and holding it to his head. Franco’s eyes widened, just slightly, and behind me, Tiny muttered an exasperated “f*ck” almost as if he knew this was coming. “I’m f*ckin’ tired, Franco. I’m pissed off, and I’m tired, and right now, I’d rather just f*ckin’ kill you and have Tiny deal with your body than have this conversation, but we all know I can’t do that, so

just tell me what the f*ck is wrong with your supply.” His eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something. But then he shut it quickly, his lips thinned to a line. He looked over at Tiny, and then back at me, and I knew the exact moment his hand shifted, reaching for his own weapon. I’d already clicked the safety by the time the barrel of his gun was against my head, and the barrel of Tiny’s was against his. So there we were, three assholes in an abandoned parking lot in the stark daylight, cars flying by on the highways around us, all with weapons drawn, aimed at our targets, and the only thing I could think about was crawling back into bed with Bailey. I dropped my arm and sighed, frustrated. What the f*ck could this possibly achieve? “f*ck this,” I spat, putting away my gun and motioned for Tiny to do the same. He lowered it, but he didn’t retreat. “Get our guys off the streets and offline,” I told him. “We’re on lockdown until this dies down.” Tiny nodded once as I switched my gaze to Franco. “If it comes out that it’s your supply causing all these f*ckin’ overdoses then the Francos will be dead to us. I’ll make it my mission so that you have no f*ckin’ place here, or in the entire state.” I looked him up and down, a calm washing over me. “You’re f*ckin’ pathetic, Franco. Your entire family is. It’s going to be a pleasure taking you down.” I don’t really know why I said all those things, but there was a pressure building in my chest, pulling at my gut and of all the other sh*t I was dealing with, he was the last thing I needed to worry about. How easy would it be for me to bring him down? For me to start spreading the word, a single whisper, that it was his sh*tty supply killing those kids? The only thing that’d stopped me was my respect for Uncle Benny and their f*cking relationship. Maybe I said too much, got too personal, but I f*cking hated him, and I’m sure the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t until I’d turned my back and had taken two steps away from him that I heard him laugh, this sinister f*cking laugh that had my feet instantly rooted to the ground. “That’s all you got?” Franco paused. “Oh no. I get it,” he said, the sarcastic lilt in his tone unmistakable. “I thought PJ was just talking sh*t about you and that girl who killed Pauly.” What. The. f*ck? “Don’t, Nate,” Tiny ground out, his voice low, words meant only for me. Franco laughed again. “What does it feel like, Nate? To be so disrespected that your own men are talking sh*t about you?” I turned to him, jaw set, but I was too angry to speak. “What the f*ck do you do with her, anyway?” he asked, smirking as he ran a hand through his slimy black hair. I took a step forward. I couldn’t stop myself, and of course, Tiny followed. Franco was smiling, co*cky, proud of the effect his words were having on me. “Oh, don’t tell me,” he said, hands up as if to stop me from speaking. “PJ showed me pictures of her… those pretty little lips,” he sang. “They’d look so f*ckin’ good wrapped around my co*ck. Do they look good—” He didn’t get a chance to finish before he was thrown to the ground, me on top of him, my fists flying, one after the other. It was almost serene, the way the blood oozed from his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. “Keep talkin’,” I warned, moving from his mouth to his gut. Behind me, Tiny muttered another “f*ck” and added a “not this sh*t again,” but I didn’t care and apparently, neither did he. He didn’t try to stop me like he did with PJ, he didn’t tell me to calm down, he just stood to the side, watching, waiting. Franco smiled, his lips widening, displaying his blood-filled mouth. “I bet her puss*’s tight,” he taunted, laughing between hits. “Shut the f*ck up,” I spat.

Rage. Rage is by far the strongest, and most uncontrollable emotion there is. Franco lifted his head and spat blood on my face, and that’s when I pulled out my gun and held it to his chin. The motherf*cker had a death wish. There’s no other way to explain it. “I bet she’s a real good f*ckin’ whor* for you.” The rage built, so strong, so fast, I couldn’t breathe. My muscles turned to stone. My willpower turned to dust. Please, I begged internally. “One more f*ckin’ word, and I’ll kill you.” He had to be insane. “It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, I guess…” he said, his voice strained, right before he coughed, blood splattering from his lips. “You are a DeLuca after all.” For a second, just one split second, I almost let his words get to me. Almost. Then I felt Tiny move, his hand on my shoulder. Franco blinked once. Twice. Then he smiled. “And everyone knows your mother was a whor*.” I don’t know what came first. The sound of the gunshot, the hot white behind my eyes, or the blood on my hands. But afterward, everything was still. Silent. Blood poured from Franco’s wound, down the solid steel of my barrel and seeped between my trembling fingers. “Get in the car,” Tiny said, lifting me like a rag doll and forcing me to stand. I walked backward to the car while Tiny stood over Franco’s dead body. I waited until I was next to the car before emptying the content of my stomach, over and over. It was all a blur. I remember nothing after that. Not even how I managed to get in the car. I came to only minutes away from my house, the shaking gun in my hand the first thing I saw. Slowly, I looked over at Tiny behind the wheel. “Why’d you do it?” He shrugged. “It’s your job to protect me, Tiny. Not to kill for me.” He glanced at me quickly, before focusing back on the road. “I protect you because you’re my boss, Nate. I kill for you because you’re my family.”

29 Bailey I SMILED AGAINST the pillow when I heard Nate say my name, and it grew the second I felt his lips on my bare shoulder. “You need to wake up, baby. It’s time for your meds.” I groaned. I didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant solitude and silence and tiles. So many damn tiles. The bed dipped when he got up, and a moment later, he returned, sitting back on the edge of the bed. If ten years from now you asked me to pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with Nate DeLuca, it’d be the moment he lifted the covers from around my waist, careful not to wake me or let the cold air hit me in other areas. The way he made sure to warm up his hands before lifting my shirt, exposing my stomach to him. It’d be the gentle way his lips pressed against my skin after he’d given me my insulin and tested my blood sugar. The care in his touch when he ran the pad of his thumb across the pierced flesh. The way his eyes settled on mine when he realized I’d been watching him, not a single ounce of regret or shame in his features. “Tiny’s coming back with bagels,” he said, completely unaware of what his actions did to me. He peeked under the covers again, taking in my lack of clothes and he smiled. “You might want to get dressed. I’m really not one for sharing, Bailey.” And with that, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom, taking my medicine bag with him. I slowly got up, the sharp ache between my legs a reminder of what happened last night. I sat on the edge of the bed, my legs pressed together, trying to ease the pain, and that’s when I saw it—a tiny bag filled with white powder sitting on Nate’s nightstand. With a thousand thoughts racing through my mind, I picked it up and examined it. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I knew it was drugs and as stupid as it sounds considering what Nate did for a living, it still hurt when my heart sank to my stomach. I checked the seal on the bag and noticed it was open, and when I looked over at where it had been sitting on Nate’s nightstand, all my worst fears hit me at once. The powder was there… not a lot of it, but it was still there, which meant he’d been the one to open it. I felt Nate’s presence before I saw him or heard him whisper my name but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the bag, and I didn’t want to look at him because I knew, for sure, that there was no way I could hide my disappointment. He sat down next to me, his loud, drawn out sigh lingering between us. “Did you?” I asked. I didn’t need to elaborate. He knew what I meant. He inhaled slowly, held it for a beat, then said, “I wouldn’t do that to you, Bailey. I know how you feel about that sh*t.” I faced him quickly, dropping the bag on the floor by my feet. “You shouldn’t want to do it to you, Nate. I don’t know what happened yesterday. All I know is that it’s bad, but it’s not just about me—” “I’m in love with you,” he cut in, and everything in me froze. I searched his gaze as he did the same, and then his throat bobbed with his swallow, before he looked away. His focus was on the floor as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice was weak, but his words were opposite. “It’s kind of insane and a little dangerous, to be honest, just how in love with you I am. And it’s really important to me that you trust me enough to believe that I’d

never do anything to hurt you. Everything I do is for you.” He turned to me, his gaze intense. “Everything.” I didn’t get a chance to respond before Tiny knocked on the basem*nt door and Nate rushed to answer it. I was grateful for that because I had no idea what I would’ve said. Guilt weaved its way through my veins when I picked up the bag from the floor and set it on Nate’s nightstand. I’d jumped to conclusions, and worse, I accused him of something I had no right accusing him of. In fact, I had no right to question a single thing he said or did. I winced when I stood up, forgetting for a moment the pain between my legs. “You okay, Bailey?” Tiny asked as I made my way to the bathroom. “You’re walking funny.” I didn’t answer him verbally. Instead, I nodded and quickly moved to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I was only there a few seconds before the door opened and Nate walked in, his brow bunched in concern. “Are you still in pain?” he asked, one hand on my back, the other sifting through the contents of the medicine cabinet. “It’s not so bad.” He nodded once, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on finding the aspirin. Focused on taking care of me.

* T HE THREE OF us ate breakfast at the small table and chairs in a corner of the basem*nt, the silence only broken when Tiny and Nate talked business. Soon enough it was time for them to leave. I sat on the edge of the bed next to Nate as he slipped on his shoes and looked over his shoulder at Tiny, who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. I swallowed nervously. “Nate?” I said quietly, and he paused mid-movement, staring ahead for a moment before finally giving me his attention. “What’s up?” I scooted closer, my hands settling on his upper arm. He seemed to release a breath, his shoulders dropping with the force of it. “I love you,” I told him. I felt stupid saying it the way I did, when he’d been so passionate in his declaration, and all I gave him were three simple words that had been recycled over and over. But going by his reaction, the smile that completely took over his face, the three simple, recycled words were enough. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning in, his mouth finding my neck. I squirmed, tickled by his touch, but he held me to him, his arms wrapped tight around me. “Yes.” “Good,” he said. Then he kissed me quickly, aware of Tiny watching us and held my hand. Fingers linked, he led me to where Tiny was standing. “Ready?” Tiny asked. Nate nodded. Tiny glanced at me quickly before moving back to Nate. “We gotta go see Benny.” I felt Nate’s hand squeeze mine, though I doubt he would’ve known he’d done it. He turned to me and said, “I’ll be back soon, okay?” He released my hand at the same time he kissed my forehead, and I watched, my heart heavy, as he and Tiny climbed the steps. “Tiny?” I called out, my voice weak. They both stopped on the landing, Tiny’s hand on the door handle. “Yeah?” “Bring him home to me, okay?” I asked, the quiver in my voice giving way to my worry. “No

blood this time.” Tiny smiled reassuringly and nodded once. “You got it.” A few seconds later, I was alone again, alone with just my raging thoughts. Mainly thoughts of Nate, of course, and the fear that I’d never see him again. Those thoughts consumed me more than they did any other day. I’d counted the tiles five times only to realize that I wasn’t really counting them at all because all I could think about was how deeply in love I was with Nate DeLuca. But, I’d realized the problem with love was simple… It’s that the problem with “simple” was LOVE. And within the walls of this room, with the bonds that kept us together, neither simple nor love could exist.

30 Nate “NO, BUT I love you, Bailey,” I said for who the f*ck knows how many times. I was trying to convince her that I loved her because I did. I was also drunk, and I’d f*cked up, and she was beautiful, and I loved her. She smiled softly, glancing at Tiny quickly before looking back at me. If she was mad or annoyed that I’d come home like this, it didn’t show. “I love you, too, Nate.” The words rolled off her tongue as if she’d said them so many times before and I hated every single person she’d ever said it to. It was a stupid reaction because I doubt she’d said them to anyone in that way before, and it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that she was beautiful and she was mine, and I loved her. I told her all this, again, slurred words falling from my lips, and she smiled just that tiny bit wider as she placed her hand on my face and pulled the covers up to my chin. My eyes drifted shut at her touch… or maybe it was the alcohol, but f*ck I loved the way she touched me. “I probably shouldn’t have let him get that bad,” Tiny offered. Truthfully, I was a little ashamed that I was a full-grown man who needed the help of another man (though probably ten times my size) to stop me from falling ass over tit* down the basem*nt stairs, but it wasn’t his fault. “It’s not your fault,” Bailey answered, reading my thoughts. “You’re not going to tell me why he’s this drunk, though, are you?” He didn’t respond verbally, but I knew what his answer was. He wouldn’t tell her. He never would. And neither would I.

* I HADN’T GONE in with a game plan when we’d visited Uncle Benny. Tiny, however, did. He’d confessed to killing Louis Franco to protect me. Which, I guess, is the same reason he’d lied about what had happened. To protect me. He’d told Benny that Franco had reached for his gun when my back was turned, and he didn’t think twice about doing what he did. Benny hadn’t had the reaction I’d expected; he’d simply told us to get the f*ck out of his office and deal with the sh*tstorm we’d created. He would deal with the Francos. So, in that moment, I was surrounded by two people whose sole purpose in life was to protect me. I couldn’t keep my emotions out of it and I f*cked up. I guess that was the reason I found myself at O’Malley’s bar, downing an entire bottle of whiskey with the hopes it would drown out the taste of Franco’s blood in my mouth. It hadn’t. “He probably just needs to sleep it off,” I heard Tiny say, pulling me from my thoughts. His voice seemed distant, or maybe it was the soft rabbit-type-hole in the bed I was slowly falling into. “Yeah, probably.” Bailey’s hand left my cheek and a moment later, I felt her lips there, replacing the touch. “Sleep, baby,” she said. And then she whispered the three words that seemed so natural to her, only this time I didn’t just hear them, I felt them. She kissed me once more, and I found myself

giving in to the exhaustion (and maybe a little of the alcohol), but before I was there, in the place too dark to find light, I murmured, “Ti amo, mia bella ragazza.” “What does that mean?” she asked, but I was too out of it to answer her, so Tiny did it for me. “It’s Italian. It means I love you, my beautiful girl.”

* I DON’T KNOW how long I’d been asleep when I awoke to the sound of Bailey’s voice, soft and warm as it flooded all my other senses. “She was a nurse,” I heard her say. “…at the children’s hospital. Sometimes she’d take me there on her days off so we could visit with the kids.” “She sounds nice,” Tiny said, and I slowly opened my eyes. They were sitting at the small table and chairs set up in the corner of the basem*nt, empty takeout boxes sprawled out in front of them. “She was nice,” Bailey responded. “I mean she is nice. I probably shouldn’t talk about her in past tense. It’s not like she’s dead… that I know of.” She peered down at her hands resting on her lap, a frown pulling at her lips. She was obviously talking about her mother. “Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate the two,” Tiny said. “Sometimes it’s almost easier to pretend like someone is dead when they choose to be absent. Makes it hurt less.” Bailey looked up, same frown, same soft eyes. “You sound like you’re talking from experience…” Tiny nodded. “My dad. He bailed when I was fourteen, and I haven’t heard from him since.” “I’m sorry,” Bailey said, the genuine sincerity in her voice clear. With a shrug, Tiny laughed once. “He used to take me to ball games whenever he could, and my favorite part was always the hotdogs. Now every time I smell hotdogs, I think of him. How f*cked up is that?” Bailey laughed. “It’s not f*cked up at all.” “What about you, Bailey? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of her?” She thought for a moment, and then a small smile crept to her lips, and it was such a f*cking shame that the only two people who got to witness it were a drug dealer and his muscle. “Fall leaves.” “Leaves?” She nodded. “Not all leaves,” she said, her eye roll making her seem younger. “So why fall leaves?” Tiny asked, a slight tease in his tone. “Because fall was her favorite season… we used to have this massive tree in the backyard, and we’d always wait for a huge pile to build up before going out there and running through it all. Some people have snowball fights. We had leaf fights.” She paused for a moment, the memory causing her to frown. “It was the last thing we did together.” Silence so deafening blanketed the room, and when Tiny’s hand reached out and covered hers, I croaked out, “Bailey, did you take your insulin?” “I made sure of it,” Tiny answered, squeezing her hands once before pulling away. I cleared my throat. “What time is it?” “Late,” Tiny said. “Are you hungry?” Bailey asked, getting up and coming over to me. She placed a hand on my cheek, her smile matching her voice, warm and all consuming. I shook my head and grasped her wrist. “Will you come to bed, baby? I just want to hold you.” She nodded slowly, her smile widening as Tiny started to clear the table. “Thanks for taking care of her,” I told him, but I was watching Bailey walk to the bathroom.

“Maybe let her take care of you tonight, Nate,” he said quietly. “I think you might both need that.” A MINUTE OR so after Tiny left, Bailey returned with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. “I thought this might help,” she said, indicating for me to scoot over so she could sit down on the edge of the bed. I did as she wanted, and sat up to take the water from her, thanking her as I did. After taking a couple of the pills, I set the glass on the nightstand and focused on her. “You and Tiny talked all night?” She nodded. “We did. It was nice.” “Oh yeah?” “I like him.” I chuckled. “Me too.” “I learned something,” she said, her cheeks darkening with her blush. “Jesus,” I murmured, settling my hand on her leg. “He better not have told you embarrassing stories about me,” I half joked. She didn’t find it funny. Instead, she reached up, her finger tracing my jaw. “Ti amo, mio ragazzo bel rotto.” I love you, my beautifully broken boy.

31 Bailey DAYS TURNED TO weeks, and I stopped counting—both the tiles and the time. I’m not sure if it was a good thing or not, but I could no longer do it to myself. Because with the counting, came the hope— the hope of freedom—and I owed it to Nate to stop thinking about it. Even though my ideals of freedom had changed from the basic memories of the outside world to dreams that included Nate and the outside world, it still wasn’t fair to put that much pressure on him, even if it was only in my head. Tiny had dinner with us once a week, on Tuesdays I’d been told, and I enjoyed that time with them. They both seemed to relax during those nights and sometimes (like now) I just sat back and watched them. I listened to their laughter and banter, and I found myself wondering how there could be this much of a contrast from who they are as themselves, as opposed to the people I met in the darkened woods one fateful night, to the people they had to be. Then I remembered that Nate was only twentytwo and for some reason that made me sad. Really sad. “Is this the life you expected to have at twentytwo?” I asked him, cutting into whatever conversation he and Tiny were having. “Um…” Nate gave Tiny a sideways glance. “Twenty-three,” Tiny said, and Nate’s jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed at Tiny. “You had a birthday?” I whispered. I don’t know why it hurt so much to know that, but it did. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nate lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips and paused with it there, his gaze locked on Tiny as if sending a silent message. “Nate? Why didn’t you tell me?” I repeated. He sighed, his shoulders dropping with the force of it. “It’s not a big deal.” “It is to me!” I snapped. Sure, I was defensive, but they were supposed to be my friends. My only friends. My family. And they’d purposely kept something from me. Nate finally turned to me as he tipped back the whiskey, his throat shifting when he swallowed. “It’s not a big deal, Bailey. It’s just another day, and it’s not like we could’ve done anything to celebrate so…” The tears came fast and free, and I couldn’t contain them. Just like I couldn’t contain the sob that burst out of me. And so I ran to the bathroom and slammed the door because I was so embarrassed, and for so many reasons. Not just because I’d broken down for what to them might seem like nothing, but also because Nate was right. We couldn’t even go out to celebrate his birthday. I couldn’t buy him a present. I couldn’t even cook him a meal. And to think that only minutes ago I’d actually asked him if this was the life he wanted. Twenty-three and trapped with me. His existence was almost as pathetic as mine. No. It was worse. Because he had a choice. I didn’t. “Bailey!” Knock. Knock. Knock. He didn’t wait for a response before opening the door, but he didn’t step inside. He just stood there, arms raised, gripping the doorframe. “This is why I didn’t tell you, babe, because I knew you’d act like this.” He licked his lips, his eyes slow as they blinked, trying to focus. He’d been drinking, like he did every Tuesday night, but he was nowhere near drunk. “And you can’t really be mad at me for knowing you too well,” he said, a slight smirk building as he released the doorframe and took a step forward. He peered down at me through his thick lashes, the

corner of his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. I took steps backward until my ass hit the counter and I had nowhere else to go. Then I pressed my hands to his chest to stop him from coming closer. He was trying to seduce me into forgetting my feelings and most of the time it worked, but I wouldn’t let it now. “You don’t have to be with me, you know?” Puke rose to my throat as the words left me, but I needed to be strong. I needed to get through the rest. “You deserve to be with someone who’s going to love you completely, who’s going to know what the f*ck day it is so you can be together and celebrate your birthday—” “I did celebrate my birthday,” he interrupted. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. He nodded. “With Tiny. He took me to dinner.” If his admission was supposed to make me feel better, it had the complete opposite effect, and the sob that escaped me was proof of that. “Bailey,” he said through a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I didn’t mean to upset you.” “You deserve more, Nate,” I cried, pushing on his chest. I ignored the look of rejection on his face as I shoved him out the door and wiped the tears off my cheeks. And with the bathroom door almost closed, I told him, “I just want to be alone.”

* I’M NOT SURE how long I sat with my ass on the floor, my back against the door, an entire roll of toilet paper scattered around me. I cried. I cried hard, loud, fat, ugly tears until there was nothing left, but it didn’t take away my pain or my insecurities. My cries slowed as I pushed off the door and started to pick up the strewn bits of toilet paper and that’s when I heard it… a slight thump on the bathroom door. Tiny and Nate were going to work at a Halloween party. No one was supposed to be home. Every single muscle in my body froze. So did my breathing. So did my heart. “Bailey?” Nate said. “Jesus Christ,” I breathed out, relieved, and asked, “What are you doing home so soon?” “I never left, Bai.” I leaned back against the door, not ready to face him, but maybe ready to talk. Not that I’d somehow miraculously gained any more clarity with my feelings. All I did was cry and occasionally think about him with other girls, which only made me cry harder. “So you heard…” “Everything.” I felt the door move slightly, pushing me forward, as if he was on the other side, sitting exactly the way I was. I looked down at my hands, knuckles sticking out behind my pale, pasty-white skin. There wasn’t a single thing attractive about them, or about me, and that thought released another silent sob from my throat. On the other side, Nate sighed loudly, the door shifting against my back matching his movements. “Look under the door,” he said quietly. I looked down, but there was nothing there. “What am I looking…” My words died in the air when I saw a single fall leaf slide under the door. I reached down and picked it up, careful not to break it. “Nate…” I whispered, unable to find my voice.

“I want to tell you something, and I’d really like it if you’d just listen. Can you do that, Bailey? For me?” I placed the leaf on my palm, cold and moist against my skin. “Okay.” He was silent a beat, most likely gathering his thoughts. Then he cleared his throat. “Tiny and I go to this deli for work, and every Thursday for the past couple years, this group of kids—three guys and three girls—show up at the same time, used to sit at the same table, and they’d just talk, about anything and everything and for some reason it fascinated me so much that I’d find myself going there every Thursday, just like them, and I’d sit and I’d watch them. And I’d feel this kind of emptiness in my gut, this longing or jealousy or something… because I didn’t have that, Bailey, and because of who I am and what I do, I knew I could never have that. But I chose this life, and I have to live with the consequences. I guess they must have graduated and gone off to college or something because now there’s only four of them. But those four still show up on time, every Thursday, and as f*cked up as it sounds, I still go, and I still watch them. Only now, the emptiness I feel isn’t for me. It’s for you. “I know you’re not just upset at me because I didn’t tell you it was my birthday. I’m not naive, and I’m not stupid enough to believe that, or ignore the real reasons. Because more often than not, I watch those friends, and I think about you, and I wonder what your life would be like had I not f*cked it up —” “Nate—” “I could’ve taken you to a bus station that night, cashed you up and sent you on your way. You could’ve had a new start, found a job, found a life, found friends you could meet with once a week. But I didn’t do that. I brought you here. I kept you here. And you might think that I deserve more. That I’m somehow trapped with you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Who I am outside this room is the one who’s trapped, Bailey, but with you… you allow me to be me, you love me for me. I know you think I saved your life, but the truth is, you saved mine.” I let his words sink in, the leaf now a crumbled mess in my hands. “You’re the only freedom I’ve ever known, Bailey.”

32 Nate SINCE THE HIGH-SOCIETY preppy kid overdosed and the sh*t went down with Louis Franco, Tiny had been staying at the house. He’d been living in a one-bedroom apartment, and when I found out his lease was up, I told him he should just move in. He had the entire top floor, and Bailey and I had the basem*nt. It was kind of a win/win because with him here, I didn’t have to worry so much about anything happening in and around the house, and I could focus on taking care of Bailey. Unless it was urgent, he left us alone. He knew how important it was for me to be with Bailey, and he respected that. The only thing that’d really changed was that we’d finally signed up at a gym and had started taking MMA classes (his idea) together. He’d said that if he was going to the gym, he might as well learn how to fight with his hands instead of his gun. We’d only been to three classes, and honestly, I hadn’t really learned sh*t, but Tiny seemed to enjoy it, so I pretended to as well, because f*ck, I owed him that much. “Tell me again why the f*ck I’m standing in a stranger ’s front yard kicking around leaves?” I picked up a leaf, inspected it, then dropped it. “Remember that story she told you? About her mom and the leaves.” He nodded, distracted by his task. “So I gave her one once and she asked me to bring her one every day, so I do. But it’s getting cold now and most of the fall leaves are gone, and I’m just trying to find her the perfect one.” For a long time, Tiny didn’t respond, and when I looked up at him, he was standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes wide. “Wow,” he said, then blew out a long, drawn out breath. “Nate DeLuca—the ladies man,” he sang. He chuckled, his fat gut bouncing with the force of it. “Most guys bring home flowers and diamonds, and you bring home leaves.” I dropped my gaze to my shoes and the predominately dead leaves surrounding them. He must’ve seen my reaction because he said, “Yo. I was kidding, Boss Man.” I looked up at him. “You think I should buy her jewelry or something? I mean, I got her that bracelet, and I bring her charms every now and then, but maybe I should do more.” He scoffed. “What the f*ck is Bailey going to do with jewelry? Bitches only want that sh*t so they can show off to their friends and Bailey has none so—” He broke off when I scowled at him. “Look,” he said, his hands up in surrender. “Who knows? Maybe leaves are Bailey’s versions of diamonds.” I shrugged, but my ego was already deflated, and nothing he could say would change that. “Why just one?” he asked, dropping to his hands and knees so he could take a closer look at the leaves. “What do you mean?” He held one up to show me, and I shook my head. It wasn’t good enough. Not for Bailey. Tiny asked, “Why do you just bring home one? And who’s to say that your version of the perfect leaf is the same as her version?” I shook my head. “This might just be the dumbest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Seriously, though,” Tiny said, taking a handful of leaves and pocketing them. He did this a few more times before adding, “If what I say is right, and the f*ckin’ leaves are her version of diamonds, then what bitch doesn’t want more f*ckin’ diamonds?” “Don’t call her a bitch,” I snapped, earning me an eye roll. “Sorry, Master,” he mocked, voice low as he struggled to get to his feet. “Doth me lady prefereth thy plethora of foliage?” “You’re a f*ckin’ idiot, Tiny,” I told him, trying to contain my laughter. “Get the leaves and meet me in the car.” “Yes, Your Honor!”

* “SO WHAT EXACTLY do you plan on doing with them all?” Tiny asked Bailey, a small pile of leaves on the floor between them. Bailey lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting mine and the disappointment I saw in them had my heart dropping to my stomach. Her throat bobbed with her swallow, and she got to her knees, her movements slow as she reached out for a leaf. “I didn’t really have plans,” she mumbled. I kneeled down next to her, leaves crunching beneath my weight as I brushed my fingers along hers. “Is something wrong?” Her sad eyes lifted and locked on mine as she faked a smile. “I’m fine, baby.” She kissed me quickly, then went back to looking at the leaves. “I wonder if there’s a way we can preserve the color.”

* FIVE YOUT UBE TUTORIALS later, Bailey had a plan, and Tiny had a shopping list he promised to take care of the next day. The leaves sat in a much neater pile, in the corner of the room. As Bailey and I got into bed, Tiny’s words and her reaction still weighed heavily on my mind. I lay on my stomach, one hand under the pillow, the other on her waist. She rolled her head to the side, her smile still fake and her eyes still lost. I tried to find the right words to tell her what I was thinking and after minutes of silence, I gave up on the words and moved closer to her, my hand on her hip, pulling her toward me. I nuzzled into her neck as her hands landed softly on the back of my head. I’d never felt as appreciated as I did when her fingers laced through my hair and she whispered my name. I moved my hand down her stomach, to the lace of her panties as she tilted her neck, making room for me. Her legs spread when my hand dipped into the waistband, her fingers gripping my hair tighter. My movements were slow, fingers gentle as they skimmed the lips of her puss*. I wasn’t touching her to get her off. I was doing it to appreciate her. From the sounds she was making, and the motions of her hips, I knew she wanted more, I could smell the need pouring out of her. But I didn’t give it to her, not yet. Instead, I kissed her neck, up to her ear. And then, stupidly, I asked, “Do you want me to give you diamonds?” Her body tensed beneath mine and mine did the same, my finger poised at her entrance. “What?” she asked. I slid a finger inside her, relaxing the moment I felt her body do the same. “Or perfume. Or

something?” Her legs clamped around my hand, her fingers circling my wrists. “Nate,” she said, her voice firm. I looked up at her and wiggled my finger inside her, causing her to moan, but not to forget. “What are you talking about?” “Or clothes. I could buy you clothes. I have money, you know. I mean, I’m not f*ck You rich, but I can afford to—” She loosened her grip on my hand and spread her legs, just enough so I was able to move more freely. “What the hell am I going to do with diamonds, or perfume, or clothes?” she asked, her eyes motioning around the room as if to prove how stupid I’d been. With an annoyed huff, I pulled my hand away and fell onto my back, my frustrated glare aimed at the ceiling. “Nathaniel!” she yelped, sitting up quickly. A flash of rage sparked in her eyes and for a moment, I was afraid. Then I remembered she was a hundred pounds soaking wet, and physically, I’d be fine. But emotionally… As quickly as she’d sat up, she moved to sit on top of me, her legs straddling mine. “You can’t tease me like that!” she whined, her fingers locking with mine as she pinned down my hands with hers. My co*ck wasn’t immune to how she was positioned and the way she moved on me. She leaned forward; her tit* only inches from my mouth, and my dick throbbed. Her eyes drifted shut while she ground down on me. Just once. But they snapped open when she felt my hands attempt to break free from her so I could grab her waist, her ass, her tit*, any part of her. With her jaw set, she pressed down on my hands, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s kind of adorable that you think you can hold me down.” She moved on me again, her eyebrows raised, and I decided to quit challenging her. She smiled. “What was with you just now? Asking me about diamonds and perfume?” I was too uncomfortable (or maybe too ashamed) to face her so I looked away. She didn’t miss a beat, didn’t give me a chance to wallow in the depths of my pathetic insecurities. “Nate?” “I know you were disappointed about the leaves. It was dumb to think that you’d want them. Tiny compared them to diamonds and now that I think about it, it’s so f*ckin’ stupid and of course you’re going to be disappointed. They’re f*ckin’ leaves, Bai—” “You think I’m disappointed because I wanted more than leaves?” she asked, releasing my hands. Her shoulders dropped as she leaned back, her arms wrapped around her stomach. “I saw your face, Bailey. It’s kind of hard to deny.” She swallowed loudly as she looked down at me, an emotion on her face I couldn’t decipher. Then she sighed, shifted off me and laid next to me, her gaze on the ceiling. She reached for my hand under the covers, and I let her take it, a nervous silence blanketing the both of us. “It’s not what you think,” she said quietly, her head rolling to the side so she could face me. I was already watching her, waiting for her to speak. “And I’m sorry that you thought that.” “So what is it?” I asked, moving to my side. I waited for her to do the same and once she did, I pulled her by the waist until we were chest to chest, our legs a tangled mess. “You’re going to think it’s dumb,” she whispered, her gaze lowering. I held her tighter, my forehead against hers. “So tell me anyway.” She sucked in a breath and held it for a while as if doing so would give her the strength she needed. “I know it sounds stupid, but besides you, it was the only thing I had to look forward to every day… a stupid leaf… and now it’s gone.”

33 Bailey 1,362. 1,363. 1,364. I’d started counting again. Obviously. I needed to. I needed to do something, and counting was the only thing that kept my attention long enough. I’d woken up with a headache. One caused by all the stupid crying I’d done last night. Nate had held me, not offering much as far as verbal support but then again, what could he say? I was crying because he’d given me too many leaves and no amount of hushes, or hair strokes could take away how pathetic I was, or the fact that, yes, I was still crying about it. I’d pretended to sleep in until the last possible minute, just enough for Nate to make sure I’d taken my meds and for him to get me my breakfast and then he was off, and I was left with a pile of leaves and two thousand and something tiles. I SHOWERED THREE times, shaved once, made the bed ten times after getting in and out nine times. I circled the room, did jumping jacks, and flushed my lunch down the toilet. That was all six thousand and something tiles ago. The sounds of the house alarm went off, and I sat in my spot in front of the wall, annoyed that the noise had interrupted my count, and listened to Nate and Tiny’s voices as they came closer, their footsteps thumping across the floor, stopping for a moment at the basem*nt entry. A second later, the wooden stairs creaked, and a few seconds after that, Nate spoke behind me. “Tiny got that stuff you wanted,” he said, and I looked up at him leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “Sorry.” He grimaced. “Did I make you lose count?” His tone was flat, his voice weary and I co*cked my head as I took him in. Really took him in. His hair was a mess. Long, thick, dark strands sticking out all over the place and his eyes… his eyes were so tired. Still, he stood there, a smile on his face that was as sincere as any other he’d given me, and so I got to my feet, and made my way to him, my hand grasping his as soon as he was within reach. Of course he’d be tired… he spent the entire night taking care of me and my crazy, and he didn’t get the luxury of lying in bed nine times a day. I cupped his cheek and leaned up, kissing him softly, slowly, and he returned the kiss with the same passion, same need as always. “What was that for?” he asked, licking the taste of my kiss from his lips. I shrugged and gripped his hand tighter as I led him to the table where Tiny was emptying the bags of takeout. A few weeks back, Tiny and Nate had brought home something that hadn’t sat well with me and so I’d spent the next few days over the toilet bowl. Nate, being Nate, nixed the idea of fast-food style takeout, and now we all had to sit and eat food from some dairy-free, gluten-free, fat-free, happiness-free restaurant. I was almost positive Tiny went out afterward and bought the greasiest burger known to man, but he put up with it for me… and maybe because Nate made him. They offered to help with the leaf project, and when I told them I wanted to do it on my own,

something to occupy my time while they were gone, Nate agreed. SO, A MONTH later, and with the help of Tiny running errands and getting supplies and Nate helping to hang the fairy lights, I stood at the bottom of the basem*nt stairs with my hand on the light switch, a swell of pride coming over me at the idea of what I’d created. “Hurry up, babe. I want to see it,” Nate said, lying on the bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other out to his side, waiting for me. I flicked the switch, casting darkness across the room, an excited giggle pouring out of me as I blindly made my way to the bed. Once settled in Nate’s arms, he asked, “Ready, baby?” I nodded against his chest, hoping he’d feel it and a moment later, the fairy lights turned on, creating a glow directly above the bed. Trickles of light and reflections danced through the hanging strings of laminated fall leaves, and I exhaled slowly, a million emotions hitting me at once. “Holy sh*t,” Nate breathed out. “It’s beautiful, Bailey.” I tried to speak so I could agree with him but the knot in my throat prevented it. There was a burning behind my eyes, and as hard as I tried to fight back the tears, they came. They came fast and strong and just like that, I was crying. Not loud and ugly like I had the night I found out Nate had had a birthday without me, but quiet… calm… peaceful, almost. It was the moment realization set in and all my hopes and dreams lay lost in the darkness, and no amount of fall leaves or fake sunlight could save them. “I missed my mother the moment she left me,” I said, maybe to him, or maybe just to get it out of my system. “I was lying in the backyard surrounded by leaves, looking up at the ones still hanging on the tree, the sunlight behind them… then I heard her car door close and the engine start and by the time I ran out there she was gone. It was almost like we are attached by an invisible elastic band and the moment she was far enough, it snapped from the force of the tension, and I’d felt that snap right away. There was a sudden ache in my chest, a twist in my gut, and I knew she wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t tell you how I knew, I just knew…” Nate leaned up on his elbow, looking down on me as the backs of his fingers swiped at my tears. “But this—this is different. It’s like small flames burning a hole in my memory, one flicker at a time and I don’t actually realize I’m missing something, or longing for it until something sets it off. Like now, I guess,” I whispered, struggling to find my voice. “I miss the cold wind against my cheeks, the dewy grass beneath my feet. I miss the moon and the stars, the sun and the sky. And I miss air.” I sniffed back a sob, my hands fisted at my side as Nate sat up and looked down at me, but I couldn’t look at him. So instead of facing the truth—the hurt that I knew I’d be causing him (because he’d done everything, everything, so I didn’t feel this way) I kept talking, kept piercing another knife through his heart. “It’s so stupid that I miss air, but I do. I miss the sounds of the birds calling out every morning, and the trains and the cars, and the smell of the trains and the cars and the people. I miss people, and I didn’t even like people.” I inhaled a much-needed breath as I let my body catch up to my mind, and when my heart settled somewhere near my stomach, and my breaths had slowed, I looked up at Nate, eyes on mine, worried as always, and I wondered if he ever thought about it. If he even still cared? Or was this it now? Was this his plan? I’d heard nothing on the missing persons report. Nothing about PJ. Nothing about my freedom. I tried to convince myself that it was his way of protecting me. It’s better this way. The less you know, the less you’ll be accountable for if anything happens. Those were his words. And as my eyes drifted shut and he kissed away the tears, silent promises created with forgotten

regrets, I wondered if this was his plan now. Me. Here. Trapped in the chaos of the silence. Nate lay back down beside me, his hand holding mine as we stared up at the leaves. “I get it,” he finally said. “You have leaves, and I have hickory. That’s the color of her eyes. My mother ’s. I know because after she died, I tried to match the color from my memory to all the paint samples on the walls at the hardware store and months later, I finally settled on one. Hickory. But if fear had a distinct color, I’d definitely call it that. It’s strange… that you can be so young… so naive… but the moment there’s something wrong with the person who created your heartbeat… you know. At least, I knew. I knew she was down here and when she saw me… the fear wasn’t just in her eyes, it was in her entire body… and even when the man—a man I’d recognized—slammed her against the wall with his hand on her neck, she kept her eyes on mine. She was mouthing something. Something I couldn’t make out and all I could remember was when it happened a few years earlier, I’d sat in my closet, singing that stupid song while I listened to her cries from her bedroom. But I believed I was bigger and stronger then, and my dad had shown me the basics of a gun. He’d wanted to teach me, but I didn’t want to learn. I was ten. I didn’t like guns. I liked to read books and learn languages and do science experiments. I wasn’t a criminal.” Nate spat out the last word like it was poison on his tongue. Then he shifted his weight, his hand coming up to rub his eyes, and when he was done, he sniffed once and looked up at the ceiling again, his breathing even. He was the epitome of the perfect calm, right before the most dangerous storm. “I remember my mom’s eyes widening when I came back down with the gun. The guy had his hand over her mouth, his pants to his knees…” Nate choked on his words, while I choked on my broken, barely beating heart. He sniffed again, and then turned to me, eyes red and raw and filled with a lifetime of tears. “I wasn’t aiming for her, Bailey, but when the gun went off, she fell to the ground, and the guy ran out of the house. Blood poured from her stomach, pooling at my shoes, and leaked onto the tie of my catholic-school uniform when I lay down beside her. I didn’t say a word. I just moved into her chest and made her put her arms around me. Then I looked up and into her eyes and all I saw was Hickory.”

34 Nate “I BET SHE’S a real good f*ckin’ whor* for you.” “It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, I guess… You are a DeLuca after all.” “And everyone knows your mother was a whor*.”

35 Bailey TWO THOUSAND FIVE hundred and sixty-eight. That was the number of tiles on the wall. One day I counted that exact number three times in a row. If I could explain in words my rise and fall, my success and demise, it would be two thousand five hundred and sixty-eight. “I’ll be back later tonight, okay?” Nate said, squatting down next to the bed, his worried eyes filled with pity. I nodded as I lay in bed, refusing to look at him, and pulled the covers closer to my chest. I’d woken up that morning, eaten breakfast, taken my meds and then pretended not to be surprised when Nate had told me what day it was. Valentine’s day. He’d handed me a little velvet bag as hopefulness replaced the pity in his eyes, just for a moment, but then returned when I’d given him a half-hearted thank you and took the bag from him. I’d set it on the nightstand, gotten back into bed, and had looked up at the fall leaves hanging from the ceiling. And that was how I stayed, all day, falling in and out of sleep, crying my silent cries, suffering my silent pain. Now, he was dressed in a suit, his tie bright red, matching the color of blood… just like the blood that led me here. “Do you want me to bring you back anything? I don’t know how long I’ll be so—” “Have a good time,” I cut in, my voice husky from lack of use. He nodded once, then looked over at my nightstand, at the unopened gift he’d given me this morning. “I’m sorry that I have to leave tonight. It’s one of the biggest nights of the year, and I need to be there, but I rearranged my schedule so I could stay home tomorrow and celebrate—” “Sure,” I cut in, but what I really wanted to say was celebrate what? Celebrate being forced to love someone? I almost said it. Almost. But then he smiled, and I swear the entire room lit up, as well all the empty spaces of my cold, dead, heart. He ran his hand through my hair and wet his lips before kissing my forehead. “Good,” he said, backing away so he could look at me again. “I know I’ve been working a lot, lately…” My eyes drifted shut when he placed his hand on my cheek. “It’s okay. I understand.” I didn’t understand. I wanted to. But I couldn’t. He kissed me again. “Ti amo, mia bella regazza.”

* IT WAS A gold-plated fall leaf. I thought the present would’ve been flashy jewelry of some kind, and that’s why I hadn’t opened it. I didn’t want jewelry. I had no need for it. To be honest, I didn’t even love the bracelet he got me anymore. One day he’d come home with a flower charm and all it had done was remind me of what was out there and all the things I’d been missing… all the things I missed.

I wore it for him because there was only so much sadness and misery I could invoke on one person before I began to hate the person who created the misery. The leaf dug into my palms as I fisted it, holding it tight while I switched off all the lights, bar the fairy lights, and got back into bed. I closed my eyes, feeling the tears trickle down my temples, and then I let myself go back there, back to summers on a lake, bristles of a bright purple hairbrush combing through my hair, my mother ’s fingers following after. I got lost in the sound of her voice as she sang to me, her words a declaration of her love for me. I was her sunshine. Her only sunshine. My heart tore in two as I sang the words aloud, and anger swept through my veins. How dare she tell me she loved me? How dare she sing that song? How dare she beg and plead with phrases meant for children, that nobody take me away from her, and then be the one to leave? The anger faded, replaced with sadness and longing, and I found myself crying, though it wasn’t really a surprise. I fell asleep that way, visions of my mother, of my freedom, of my life—all slipping away from me—and I awoke the same way, Nate’s light snoring bringing a soundtrack to my downfall. For the next few days, I lived and breathed those same thoughts, same memories, same shattered hopes and dreams and so when Tuesday came around, and I watched Tiny unwrap his meal, I looked up from my own and asked him something that’d been on my mind since Nate slid a single fall leaf beneath the bathroom door; “Will you find my mother?”

36 Bailey I BARELY SAW Nate. He was constantly working, or at the gym, or out late. He’d make sure I had my medication in the morning and that I had dinner at night and was there for all my check-up appointments with Doctor Polizi, but besides that, he was absent to the point where I felt like I was living with Tiny more than I was in a relationship with him… if you could even call it that. It’d been three Tuesday night dinners since I’d asked Tiny to find my mom, and I hadn’t heard anything back. Only that he was looking. I knew, deep down, that that’s why Nate was being distant. If he’d sat me down and asked me why… Why I wanted to know, and why I’d asked Tiny instead of him, I would’ve told him the truth. Put simply, I was curious, and Tiny would be able to give me whatever information I wanted without the emotional attachment, without the need to protect my feelings. The alarm at the front door sounded, and I paused mid laundry-fold, listening to the footsteps above me. I heard Tiny’s voice, followed by Nate’s, and I wondered if it was going to be another one of those nights where Nate would send Tiny down with my dinner and an excuse as to why he wasn’t there. It wasn’t, though, because they both came down the stairs, bottle of whiskey in Nate’s hand and a large yellow envelope in Tiny’s. I looked from the envelope to Nate, and the look on his face was enough to tell me that it was time for the truth.

* WE SAT AT the table in the corner of the room like we’d done many nights before, only it wasn’t Tuesday, and there wasn’t a takeout box in sight. I held the gold leaf in my hand, ignoring the pain as the edges dug into my skin. “You found her?” I asked Tiny, even though I was looking at Nate. His eyes were hooded as he tried to focus on the bottle in his hand. He’d obviously been drinking, so I had to assume that the contents of the envelope were the cause of his current state. Tiny cleared his throat, and I forced myself to look away from Nate and over at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s her.” He pulled out a photograph from the envelope and placed it on the table in front of me. I didn’t have to look at it for long before I spoke around the lump in my throat, “That’s her.” Years of separation hadn’t changed her. In the picture, she was smiling, one hand holding a door open, the other holding the hand of a little girl no older than five. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Do you know who the girl is?” I asked Tiny. Nate sat up, the bottle clutched to his chest, but still, he remained silent. Tiny exhaled loudly, before answering, “That’s her daughter, Bailey.” Nate dropped his gaze to the table while my mind whirled with questions. Then, suddenly, I gasped, as if reality had kicked me in the gut, punched me in my face, and I tried to hold on to the memories; summers by the lake, purple brushes through my hair, fall leaves, and declarations of love… I was her sunshine, her only sunshine. f*ck that.

Tears streamed from my eyes, my sob escaping my chest, loud and unforgiving. I stood quickly, my chair tipping behind me. “I have a sister?” Nate looked up, caught my gaze, then looked back down and pretended he hadn’t seen me, hadn’t seen my hurt. My pain. My goddamn suffering. “Why won’t you look at me?” I yelled, my voice breaking. “Answer me, goddamn it!” His body jerked like a fire had been lit, blazing from the inside out as he stood up. Two steps were all it all took for him to get to me, his whiskey breath kissing my lips as he towered over me. “Now?” he said. “Now you want me to give you answers?” His voice mocked as he wobbled on his feet and pointed to Tiny. “What’s wrong with him now?” “Nate,” Tiny warned, standing and making his way over to us. I pushed on Nate’s chest. “Tell me the truth!” He squared his shoulders, his jaw clenched. “Don’t f*ckin’ push it, Bailey.” I shoved him again, glad that I was finally getting a reaction. It was so much better than being invisible. He’d cast me aside, but I was in his face now, and he couldn’t f*cking ignore me anymore. He gripped the bottle tighter, his eyes filled with rage. “I mean it.” I don’t really know what happened next, and I have no idea why we were so intent on hurting each other, why we used the only people we loved, the only people we had, to keep the fires of hurt and despair burning, but we did. Over and over. Words flew from our mouths, their sole purpose to destroy until pain overpowered our voices and anger overpowered our pain. “If you wanted an out, you should have told me!” he yelled, pointing to himself. “Me! Not Tiny. He’s not the one who put a roof over your head, who feeds you and gives you all of this.” He threw his arms in the air, whiskey spilling on the floor, mixing with my tears and the footprints of my existence. His voice was rough, unrestrained, penetrating my eardrums with the unexpected volume. “He’s not the one who f*ckin’ loves you, Bailey. I do.” “You have to love me!” I shouted. Silence pierced the air, and my hands dropped to my sides, my chest rising and falling, aching from the power of my admission. Nate kept his eyes on mine as he took a step back, shaking his head as he did. “f*ck you, Bailey.” “Nate!” Another warning from Tiny. Nate’s eyes snapped to him. “And f*ck you, too.” He looked between us. “f*ck you both!” The bottle of whiskey spun in the air when Nate threw it across the room, smashing against the wall, shattered pieces of glass, just like my heart, left discarded on the floor. He stepped toward me, but Tiny held him back, his arms pinned to his sides. I shrunk into myself, my hands going around my stomach. “Look at me, Bailey,” Nate said, his tone clipped. I did. I owed him that much. “You want the truth? I didn’t want to love you. I still don’t want to love you. But I don’t have a goddamn choice, Bailey. It would be so much easier if I’d never f*ckin’ met you. If I’d never heard the gunshot and run toward the sound. I wouldn’t have to be looking over my shoulder every f*ckin’ second of every day, hoping they don’t f*ckin’ find you. I wouldn’t have to worry about you, wondering if you’re okay physically, mentally, all of it. But it’s been months. Months. You don’t think I see that you’ve checked out? That you don’t want to be here? That you don’t want me? I’m f*ckin’ here because I love you. And it’s so pathetic—you standing there begging me for the truth when you

can’t even look me in the eye and tell me one yourself. You want my truths? There it is. Now you owe me yours.” He paused a beat; his shoulders slumped as Tiny held on to him. His eyes were bloodshot, his breaths shallow, his words a prayer when he said, “Tell me you don’t love me.” My breath caught in my chest, my eyes holding his. Tears flooded my vision as I gripped the gold leaf tighter in my hand. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but I could only focus on one. I couldn’t give him the truth he wanted to hear. It didn’t exist. “Ti amo, Nathaniel,” I whispered, my hand going to my chest. I made sure to look in his eyes, so he could see the truth I was about to spill. “But I wish you’d pulled the trigger.”

* T HE PAIN WAS almost instant, just like it had been when my mother left. The second Nate was far enough away, the tension of the elastic band that held us together snapped, and I’d felt the searing ache like a thousand stab wounds to my heart. I watched Tiny come back down the stairs, food in one hand, envelope in the other. He didn’t speak a word as he set them both down on the table. I looked back down at the floor. “Is he okay?” I asked, my voice hoarse from all the tears the guilt had forced out of me. “Everything you need to know is in there,” he said, and I glanced up at him. He was already watching me, his head tilted to the side. Then he sighed, walked over and sat next to me on the edge of the bed, nudging my side as soon as he was settled. “Can we talk?” I focused on the gold leaf in my hand. “Of course.” Tiny leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he rubbed his jaw. “I’m not going to lie to you, Bailey. And please don’t take this the wrong way because I have nothing against you personally, but I support you being here only because I support Nate… as a boss, as a person, and as my best friend. When you asked me to find your mom, a part of me was hopeful I’d find something that might help the situation… that might help get you out of here, and help Nate separate himself from you. You have to be f*ckin’ blind to not see how much he loves you, and I’m not saying that you don’t love him because you probably do, but it’s not healthy. Not for either of you.” He took a breath, and then a moment to formulate his next words. “But in this situation, my loyalty doesn’t lie with you. It lies with him. It will always lie with him. Nothing good can come of this. You have to be able to see that. Nate’s life may be his job, for now, but it won’t be forever. He’ll want a family. He’ll want kids. And there’s no way that can happen. Not with you. Not like this.” He cleared his throat as he stood up and turned away from me. “If you ask him to, he’ll risk his life to let you go because he loves you that f*ckin’ much. But if he lets you go, Bailey, you’ll take his heart with you.”

37 Bailey IT DIDN’T MATTER how long I’d stared at the pages upon pages of information, how many times I read the lines now blurred by my fatigue. It didn’t matter how many tears I’d cried or murmurs of denials I’d whispered into the dead air… I’d wanted the truth, and I’d gotten it. And now I wished I hadn’t. I rubbed my eyes and wiped my nose, sitting up straighter when I heard the basem*nt door open. I’d listened to the sounds of footsteps so many times that I could tell it was Nate. He appeared at the bottom of the stairs with our standard breakfasts in his hands. Was it morning already? I looked down at the papers spread out on the table, my heart growing heavier with each picture, each piece of evidence, and I held back on another set of cries. “You’ve been up all night?” Nate asked, his voice soft. I glanced up at him, a breath leaving me when I saw the dark circles surrounding his eyes and the mess of hair sticking up, no doubt from him tugging at it. He looked as bad as I felt and I was positive he hadn’t slept a wink either. “I guess I must have,” I whispered. He seemed to hesitate a beat, before putting one foot in front of the other and heading toward me. I slowly picked up the pieces of my broken heart, otherwise known as my “mother ’s” life and shoved them back in the envelope, making room for our meals. We sat in silence as we stared down at the table, our forks poking and prodding but never lifting the food to our mouths. My silent tears unmasked by my almost silent cries filled the air, broken only by Nate’s sighs. Then he sat up, his forearms on the table as he leaned forward. “You should eat something.” My head co*cked as I took in his words, his appearance, and the genuine sincerity in both of them. I nodded as I held the fork tighter, pushing back a sob and I ate my food, little by little until my plate was empty, all while he watched me, his eyes never leaving mine. And when I was done, we both sat back, letting the silence drown out our heartache. It wasn’t until Nate reached over, his fingers on the edge of my plate that I finally spoke. “I asked Tiny to find her because I wanted the truth. I knew that if I’d asked you, you would try to shelter me. To protect me from the hurt. I thought it was what I wanted.” He froze, his gaze lifting and locking with mine. “And now? What do you want now, Bailey?” I covered my trembling lips with the back of my hand. “And now I want you. I want you to protect me, Nate.”

* I SAT ON the bathroom counter like I’d done so many times before, only now it felt different. There was a nervous, unresolved tension between us as Nate stood between my legs—not close enough that he was touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. He seemed focused (almost too focused) on preparing my insulin. There was no skin on skin

contact when he lifted my shirt, and he froze when my bare stomach was revealed. His eyes drifted shut as he licked his lips and squatted in front of me, his breath warm against my leg. I held my breath, my muscle tense with anticipation. My hands reached out, as if on their own, until my fingers met the soft tips of his hair. He looked up at me, and I hesitated, just for a moment, before lacing my fingers through his hair and pulling him toward me. And just like that, the tension left me, but so did the tears, and so did the words I’d spent the entire night denying. “My mother was a whor*.”

Nate BAILEY’S MOTHER WAS a whor*. Not in the insulting way. In the literal way. The mother Bailey had known, had grown up with, wasn’t her mother. Not by birth, anyway. Her birth mother had been a prostitute, a hooker, a whor*. It didn’t matter how you spun it, or which word you chose to use; the truth was the truth and what’s worse—she’d been a cheap whor*, working on the streets for very little so that she could maintain her crack habit. Bailey’s mother was a crack whor*. Unfortunately, the man she’d known as her father was, in fact, her father. A businessman who worked in finance, but also had a craving for hookers and cocaine. When Bailey had been born, she was sent to the children’s hospital, her tiny newborn body shaking uncontrollably as she suffered from withdrawals. Bailey was a crack baby. From what Tiny had found out, the arrival of Bailey flicked a switch in her father, and when he held her for the first time, he decided to set a different path for his life, and so he spent day after day, night after night, doing what he could for his and the crack whor*’s crack baby, now known as his daughter: Bailey Ann Wright—the baby girl who spent months in the hospital under the care of doctors and nurses as they treated her like they did other addicts. It’s strange—how love can form from the most f*cked up of circ*mstances. A crack baby + a weak businessman + a nurse who’d taken a liking to Bailey would one day become Bailey’s family. Until one day, the businessman could no longer hold off on his need, his want, his addiction, and after a few years of living clean, started using again. The drugs came first. Then the whor*s. Then the crack whor*s. And then one fall day, the nurse looked at the girl she’d lovingly called her daughter, and decided she’d had enough of being a mother to a girl who wasn’t hers, had enough of being a wife to a man who couldn’t keep his promise, and so she left… all while Bailey sat under a tree, a tree just like hotdogs and hickory, which would later become the holder of the greatest, and worst memories of her life. “There’s no f*ckin’ end in sight, Boss,” Tiny said, pulling me from my thoughts. “We killed his brother, isn’t that enough?” I looked away from my phone, from the vision of Bailey provided by the basem*nt security cameras she didn’t know existed. She was curled in a ball on the bed, and when I zoomed in close enough, I could see her thumb in her mouth, her tears on her cheeks, and I wanted nothing more than to order Tiny to turn around and go back home. I wanted to feel her fingers through my hair, feel her

skin against my fingertips, her lips against mine. “Boss?” With a sigh, I put my phone away and faced him. He glanced at me quickly, his hands on the steering wheel. “You know what I’m going to say, Tiny.” He sighed. “That it’s not enough, right?” I nodded. “Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy here, or even the voice of reason, especially after the night you’ve had with Bailey and everything, but…” I slumped down in my seat, my head pounding as I rolled it against the headrest and closed my eyes. Tiny continued, “I mean, you were young, Nate. Just a kid. And I understand that you feel like you need to get some form of redemption for your mother ’s death, but are you even sure it was Dante Franco with your mother—” “That’s enough, Tiny.” “All I’m saying is that you deserve more than this life, with or without Bailey. This can’t be forever, Nate. At some point, this sh*t has to end.” I sighed, frustrated. “Will you just f*ckin’ drive?” His mouth clamped shut, and it stayed that way while I directed him to our next destination. Once we pulled up outside Dr. Polizi’s practice, he turned to me, his expression worried. “What’s going on, Nate?” I ignored him and opened my door, and when I heard him do the same, I faced him, my words an order: “Stay in the car.” “Nate—” “At what point did you stop taking orders from me, Tiny?” I was tired, beyond exhausted, and I knew it wasn’t fair, but lately, everything had been setting me off. Everything. And while I tried to keep it contained around Bailey, I couldn’t do the same with him. It was too much.

* POLIZI’S PRACTICE WAS the same generic doctor ’s office you’d see anywhere; white walls, dated art, even more dated reading material. I’d barely sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting room when Polizi walked in, his smile as generic as his office when he called my name. Once in his exam room, he turned to me, the smile no longer there. “Your CT scan results came back. It’s getting worse, Nate.” “No sh*t.” “We’re already treating it as much as we can with medication.” “Surely there’s something else.” He rubbed his beard, his gaze dropping and his voice softening. “There’s open heart surgery. We can go in, close the valve, but I don’t recommend it, Nate. You’re only twenty-three. You could live a full life—” “But besides cutting me open?” I asked. He shook his head. “Nathaniel, I’d love nothing more than to be able to treat this for you, but it’s not on me. It’s on you. The stress, the anxiety, your work… it’s not good for you. It’s detrimental to your heart and your life. Yours is one of the most severe cases of MVP I’ve come across, and you’re not doing yourself any favors by doing what you do. You want me to give you a magical remedy? Get

out of The Family. Live a normal life. Use your smarts for something better. Find love, find happiness, have children and love them the way you were loved.” He sighed as he leaned against his desk. “You keep this up, and you’ll be lucky to see your next birthday. I told your dad the same thing, Nate, and he didn’t listen to me. Now look where he is.”

38 Bailey MONTHS HAD PASSED since I’d found out the truth about my mother, and the lie about my life and I’d done everything I could to forget it, to act as if my mother wasn’t a crack whor* and I wasn’t a crack baby and my life wasn’t doomed from the second I was born. I thought I’d been doing a good job. Obviously, I wasn’t. Nate leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his gaze locked on the floor. He was refusing to look at me. He’d been doing it since he got home, and suddenly, it all made sense. “What do you think, Bailey?” Dr. Polizi’s question hung in the air. I pulled the covers up to my chin and didn’t bother answering him. I didn’t need to. It didn’t matter what I thought. Dr. Polizi sighed as he stepped away from the bed, and looked over at Nate. “She can take them in the morning with her insulin, or at lunch with her vitamins and other pills,” Polizi told him. Nate looked up, his face void of emotion. “Thanks, Doc.” They spoke in hushed tones as if I wasn’t in the room, and a few minutes later, I was alone. Again. I was always alone. Nate had been (as he liked to call it) working “overtime.” He was barely home, and when he was, he was on his computer, or asleep. He’d been going to the gym a lot, too, and it showed, not that I had any sexual appetite to appreciate it. Maybe that’s why he asked the doc to get me on anti-depressants. I scoffed to myself just as he re-entered the room. “What’s funny?” he asked while he sat on the edge of the bed. He slipped on his shoes with one hand, the other landing on my hip. He forced a smile in my direction, one that said, I’m sorry, but I have to go. The real world awaits and besides, you barely get out of bed, and you haven’t showered in three days, so I’d rather not be around you… “Bailey?” My eyes moved to his. “I might be home a little late…” I contained my eye roll. He probably wanted to have sex. I should shower. Shave. Do all my hostage/girlfriend duties. Hostage. I scoffed again. “Bailey!” “What? I heard you!” I snapped. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he rushed out, his hands going up in surrender. “It just seems like you keep zoning out on me.” I wondered if the girls he was f*cking during his so-called “overtime” could smell me on him. Or if they did, would they care? Girls loved the bad-boy, and they don’t get any badder than Nate f*cking DeLuca. “Bailey…” “What?!” “Nothing.” He shook his head, his gaze dropping. “I just love you, is all.”

Nate I KNEW PART of it was my fault. I’d been working a lot lately. Too much. Benny had a rat at the local precinct and, apparently, the cops had been on our tail since the rich kid OD’d. Benny told me all this, followed by an order/warning that it was on me to find a more discrete way to get supplies and do the exchange. So I ignored Polizi’s pleas, and I’d been working overtime, trying to find new ways to meet with suppliers, which, unfortunately, still included the Francos. Tiny and I spent most nights driving from one location to another, using the darkness of the night to hide our intentions, but I’d always made sure to come home, every single night, to Bailey. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t notice, or that she no longer cared. And the truth is, it was a selfish choice. I needed to be with her. I ached to be with her. I spent my days trying to work out who I was, trying to find my reason, but at night… in the four walls of that basem*nt with Bailey in my arms, her slumbered breaths on my skin and her heart beating with mine, I found peace. I found solace. I found purpose. But I also found myself drowning, sinking, unable to breathe from the weight of my so-called peace, and I questioned everything I felt and tried to match it with how she felt and I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the truth between the web of lies we’d created, and worse… I couldn’t find Bailey. I guess that’s when I came to the realization. I could no longer find her, because she no longer existed.

* BAILEY WAS SITTING at the top of the basem*nt stairs when I got home. She stood as soon as she heard me, her hands grasping the hem of the too-big shirt she was wearing. She wiped her eyes as if she’d been crying, and lifted her chin, her shoulders square. For a moment, I thought it was anger I saw in her eyes—frustrated, built up anger that I was no doubt responsible for, but then she smiled, her breath shaky when she exhaled. “What are you doing?” I asked. She shrugged, her voice almost a whisper when she said, “Waiting for you.” “Oh yeah?” I stepped forward, and her hand claimed mine as soon as I was close enough. She inhaled deeply, and looked up, her tear-coated eyes meeting mine. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home because I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about… just… about everything, Nate, and I —” She broke off on a sob, one that pierced my already breaking heart. I released her hands and cupped her face, tilting her head back. “Bailey, it’s fine.” She shook her head, her hands grasping my wrists. “It’s not fine, Nate. You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you, or the way I’ve been acting and I’m so sorry because you’ve done nothing but take care of me since the moment you found me. I’m just lost at the moment, so lost, and I have been for a while, but every night you come home to me, and you’re here… you’re here with me, and you don’t have to be and I don’t know why I’ve been acting like that isn’t enough.” Because it’s not, I wanted to tell her. And she was wrong. She had no idea how much I had to be with her. “Do you remember our first fight?” she asked, wiping her cheeks with her forearm. “The one where I was insecure about what you did out there and jealous of all the—” “Yeah,” I cut in. “I remember.”

“You remember what you said? About how we end all our fights?” I nodded. “I need you to end it, Nate,” she cried, moving her hands to my shirt, fisting and tugging harshly. “God, I need you to end it,” she repeated, and so I did, right there on the stairs with a million emotions fleeting between us, I gave her what she needed. I inhaled her cries and let them consume me, I tasted her tears and let them destroy me, I gave in to her pleas and let them control me, and then she did the same with me. We used each other, physically, emotionally, it didn’t matter, because when the pink of her lips spread thin around my co*ck and my hands fisted her hair, she looked up at me with love and appreciation in her eyes, and for a second, one split second, my heart stopped hurting. Then I was inside her, the sounds of my pain and despair muffled by her neck while she panted, promises and declarations of a forever that didn’t exist whispered into the still, dead air around us. But it wasn’t until it was over, her in my arms and our bodies still connected, drowning in the evidence of our pleasure and pain that reality hit, and hit with a force I couldn’t ignore… our actions hadn’t ended it. If anything, it just restarted the cycle. And I guess she must’ve felt it too because when I woke up the next morning, she wasn’t in our bed, she was on the bathroom floor, and I felt the shift in both our presence, like a tidal wave of doom. For minutes, I just sat there watching her, until she turned to me, her eyes hopeless and tired and then she said the two words that sparked the flames, the two words that ruined me for all of eternity. “Thank you.”

39 Bailey “GET UP!” My eyes snapped open, and my hand reached out, grabbing the arm of the person shaking me. I knew it wasn’t Nate. Even in the darkness of the room, I could tell. It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t his touch. Adrenalin pumped through my veins, mixing with my fear and the only thing I thought to do was scream. I turned over in bed, and I screamed and cried for Nate, but he wasn’t there. Hands grasped my shoulders while a cloth was put over my head, and then the same hands were on my waist, lifting me in the air. My stomach landed on a shoulder, my body folded in half, and I thrashed around, my fists thumping the person’s back while my legs kicked out and I screamed, and I cried for Nate. Doors opened, doors closed, footsteps thudded across the floor, and I wept, tears falling in all directions. My throat closed up, the shock of fresh air filling my lungs. I heard the thunder, felt the rain on my legs and my back while a car door opened, and I was released, landing harshly on my side and I screamed, and I cried for Nate. I kicked again, hands pulling the fabric off my head at the same time the engine started. I found the door handle, and I pulled, and I pulled, but it was no use. The car moved, tires spinning against loose gravel and I screamed, and I cried for Nate. Then I looked out the back window, past the tears and the darkness and the rain and the lighting surrounding me, to Nate’s house, the only light source coming from his open front door, and I banged my fist on the window as I screamed and I cried for Nate. And then he appeared, the outline of his frame standing in the doorway, and everything in me froze, just for a second, before my mind reeled, and my tears fell, and my heart broke, and I slumped in the seat. And I cried. And I cried For Nate.

Epilogue Nate Five years later “I’D WOKEN UP that morning to Bailey sitting naked on the bathroom floor—her thin, pale frame a contrast against the gray of the tiles. She’d been counting, her finger pointed in the air, and her body shaking, and all of a sudden, that ache I had felt tripled in strength, only it hadn’t been because I needed to be with her, needed to feel her in my arms… No, the reasons were worse. A lot worse. Bailey once told me that the only thing she experienced when she pulled the trigger that night I found her was a repeat of the events that led her to where she was. Gunshot. Breath. Darkness. She’d said those three words as if they were all her life meant, but she said she’d been sad that she hadn’t seen her life flash before her eyes. But I had—my life, I mean. That morning, I’d watched Bailey lean forward, her eyes squinting, her lips moving, and her pointed finger slowing, and my heart hurt to the point where I thought I was dying, or maybe I was because it was at that point when my life flashed before my eyes.” Doctor Aroma looked up from her notepad, her eyes wide. “And what did you see, Nate?” “Bailey and Hickory.”

Other Books By Jay McLean ALL BOOKS FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED More Than Series: More Than This (Bk 1) More Than Her (Bk 2) More Than Him (Bk 3) More Than Forever (Bk 4) More Than Enough (Bk 5) The Road Series: Where the Road Takes Me Kick Push Boy Toy Chronicles: Volume One

About Jay McLean

Jay McLean is an international best-selling author and full-time reader, writer of New Adult Romance, and most of all, procrastinator. When she’s not doing any of those things, she can be found running after her two little boys, playing house and binge watching Netflix. She writes what she loves to read, which are books that can make her laugh, make her hurt and make her feel. Jay lives in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, in a forever half-done home where music is loud and laughter is louder. Connect with Jay: Facebook Page: http://buff.ly/1ETfmOq Facebook Fan Group: http://buff.ly/1ETfkpQ Twitter: http://buff.ly/1ETfkpR Instagram: http://buff.ly/1ETfmOv Web: http://buff.ly/1ETfn4K Email: [emailprotected] For publishing rights (Foreign & Domestic) Film, or television, please contact her agent Erica Spellman-Silverman, at Trident Media Group.

Jay McLean - Redemptive (ang.) - PDF Free Download (2024)

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