the following chapter contains a depiction of violence that may be upsetting and/or triggering for some readers.

A MUSCLE IN Rhys' firm jaw pulsed as he pressed his teeth together and came to a halt in front of me. He looked positively flustered, pieces of his hair brushing past his sweat-slicked forehead, and his shoulders taut beneath his burgundy wool sweatshirt.

His chest relaxed a bit with his exhale, and he pushed a hand through his locks in an effort to secure them away from his face. It partially worked.

My tongue remained heavy as I watched him pull himself together, the color of his sweatshirt making his gray eyes pop with an intensity I felt in my core. I hadn't seen him like this in a really long time. He was equal parts tall and broad—in that way that told you he'd be bulky if he worked out long enough—and it didn't really help.

Finally finding my voice, I said, "What the hell, Rhys? How long have you been following me for?"

He placed a hand on the railing, and a chill skipped down my back when I remembered how the entire structure had trembled beneath his grip on his way up. "I got coffee at the café you work at and had just stepped out when you came in. So I waited in the place across the street."

"Then proceeded to stalk and scare the shit out of me?"

Another tick in his jaw. Then, "It got your attention, didn't it?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "What are you even talking about?"

"It's been almost twenty-four hours, De. You didn't text me back, much less respond to my question. I extended my stay because of you."

I squared my shoulders. "I didn't ask you to stay back—"

"Did you even think about it?" he cut in, and I gritted my teeth so hard, it pushed forward an ache in the sides in my head.

I was tired. All I wanted right now was to go into my apartment and get some sleep, but it was obvious Rhys didn't care that I was returning from a three-hour shift. He'd always been a selfish guy, never doing anything unless it benefited him in some way, and it was quite funny that I conveniently forgot about that part. I guess I should've been more worried if he suddenly gave a shit about my wellbeing.

"Do you want the truth or you want me to make you feel good about yourself?" I asked him, ready for this conversation to be over.

In response, Rhys stepped forward, his fingers gliding over the railing. I had to tilt my head back a bit to get a good look at him, even as my heart went a little wild behind my sternum.

His lips parted as he prepared to say something, but the words didn't come early. His jaw ticked again. Then, "What do you want me to do?"

I couldn't stop the humorless laugh before it trickled out of me, and it was obvious it surprised him, too. His expression went a little blank for a second. "You don't get it. Do you, Rhys?" I allowed a pause, giving him the chance to respond. When he didn't, I continued. "This isn't going to work. There's nothing you can do to make it better. The damage has already been done, and if you had any ounce of self-awareness, you'd know that by now."

He nodded, but I could tell it wasn't because he understood. I gave him five seconds before he attempted to prove a point. This was how it always was, and hopefully it ended with him tucking his tail and leaving rather than with his tongue in my mouth.

He started talking when I got to three. "You know, I like how stubborn you are. Always playing hard to get like we're starring in some early 2000s rom-com."

I laughed again, taking a step back and averting my eyes. As predictable as he was, I found myself genuinely speechless sometimes at the things that left his mouth. My laughter ended with a pulse in my jaw.

"You like the high of the chase, De. Don't you?" He reached out to touch my arm, but I angled my body away from him without meeting his eyes.

Again, he was surprised. I tried not to feel offended that I'd sold myself so short, that once upon a time, I was that easy to sway. Instead, I focused more on the fact that he was still recycling the same set of tricks he'd been using since we were juniors in high school.

"You know," I said, my voice quieter than I intended, "the only problem I see here is that you haven't gotten the answer you want, so you're choosing not to hear it. And, honestly, I had a long day and just need some sleep." Then I leaned close to him, hoping it convinced him of how serious I was. "Nothing is going on here. Now, please leave. Please."

When I turned to leave, he grabbed me by my hand, and, acting on pure impulse, I forced it out of his grip. But Rhys was far more responsive and far more calculated than I was. He fed on my resistance, and as soon as my hand was free, his grip landed on my forearm, a little tighter than I wanted to admit. Then he used it to tug me forward so his face was only a hair's breadth away from mine.

The gray in his eyes spanned for miles, but I couldn't really identify anything in there. All that stared back at me was an empty landscape. Not quite hot, not quite cold.

"Rhys. Let go of me," I told him, as calmly as I could manage around the sound of my heart in my ears.

"We're gonna try this again," he said, instead, his words pointed, voice staggering down a couple octaves. "What do you want me to do, De? How can I fix this?"

"You can't. Let go of me."

"Do you think I came all this way to fool around?" he asked, a little quieter, but nothing changed about the way he was holding my arm. "I had to leave quite a lot at Cornell to be here. I was supposed to be back a day ago. I'm supposed to be working on a group project right now, De. But here you are, not even giving me a chance, making me feel like I wasted my time. When I told you I was coming to Boston, you could've said you didn't wanna see me."

I scoffed. "Like that would've stopped you." I briefly struggled against his grip, but he held on tight. My heart stuttered behind my chest. "You don't get to play the victim here, Rhys. You followed me like a creep for a solid five minutes just so you can figure out where I live in case you need to do this again. Then you proceeded to practically chase me up the stairs of my own apartment. Tell me why, in your wildest imagination, you think I'd say yes to you now." My blood simmered with anger. Every word that came out of my mouth was tinged with it. I didn't understand why it was so difficult for him to just go back to New York. There was nothing for him here, and if he thought I was going to fold just because he put in "effort," or whatever the hell he wanted to call this, then maybe he was more stupid than I thought.

Rhys smiled, and I'd never seen anything more menacing. "You know, maybe this is the reason why your life is as much of the train wreck it is. You play along for as long as it suits you, then you want to be left alone." The words felt similar to what I told Sydney just hours ago. "You expect to be abandoned. Everyone is the emotionally unavailable father you failed to redeem. Right?" There was a pause, and I absolutely hated that it did, but his words struck something inside me. "You look for him in everyone you meet. And you can say I play victim as much as you want, but we both know that's your area of specialization."

I had to take a moment to digest it, had to remind myself that none of this mattered. All he was trying to do here was suppress me, remind me of how small I used to feel, how easy it was for me to walk back into his arms, how badly I believed this was what I deserved.

I felt a distant sting in my eyes, as though if I stood here long enough, I was going to start bawling and make him feel like he was right, convince him that he knew how to break me.

As my last effort to regain control, I smiled, but there was no humor in it. Then I looked him dead in the eyes and offered through gritted teeth, "I think you're an idiot, Rhys Harvard."

There was a dart of confusion in his eyes for a moment, then the hand he had around my arm went loose, almost enough for me to break free. But that thought flew out of my head the moment his gaze was overlaid with another emotion.

I knew better than this. I knew better than to stir this any further, but I didn't think I cared much at the moment.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" he asked after the initial shock wore off.

I was feeling more than a little stupid, so I smiled again, with a little more humor this time. "You really want me to repeat myself?"

A flash, then his hand was around my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin, and my back hit the wall so hard, it knocked the breath out of me. My freeze response was immediately triggered, and my grip on my phone loosened until it left my hand and clattered to the floor. Then my tote slipped off my shoulder.

I was forced gaze-to-gaze with Rhys, who held me in place, and where there was emptiness a moment ago, there was now fury. His eyes brimmed with it.

My face hurt where his hand was pressed, and for a second, I wondered if his intention was to crack or displace my jaw, shut me up for good. He was bigger than me, and the force he exerted was disproportionate to the size of my face.

"Say that again," he said, his voice low with rage, and it took a second longer for the dread to set in. All of a sudden, I wished I'd done things differently.

My vision blurred slightly the longer his eyes bored into mine, and even if I wanted to speak, he had my jaw constricted. When I'd been quiet long enough to satisfy him and make him feel like he'd proven his point, he let go of me with an unnecessary shove that had the back of my head bumping the wall. Pain bloomed from the point of impact until I almost felt it in my ears, and for a few seconds, I was disoriented.

It was quiet while I waited for my vision to settle, and I didn't think much of it until my gaze focused and I saw Rhys turned towards the stairs leading down.

Jason Rivera stood frozen halfway up them, his focus set on me, jaw tight, but concern threaded through his brow. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but from his stance, I could tell it was long enough to see my head collide with the wall.

My ears rang. My jaw trembled at the same time that it ached, and so did my left arm. From fear or relief, I couldn't tell.

I couldn't move.

I felt cold.

After a long moment with the three of us standing there in varying degrees of shock, Rhys turned to look at me. The first thing I noticed was that his shoulders seemed a little more relaxed now. He also looked less angry. Almost . . . remorseful. And the second I identified it, it grew in intensity.

His lips parted to say something, but nothing made it out.

"You okay, De?" came Jason's voice, calmer by several levels. My eyes shifted to him as my arm continued to tremble. Maybe my nerves had been displaced and that was why I felt so paralyzed. Maybe the hormonal crash had something to do with it, too.

But when I didn't respond, Jason came up the stairs, moved past Rhys on the landing almost as if he wasn't there, and walked right up to me after placing his messenger bag down against the banister.

His eyes lingered on my bag and phone for a bit, then my numb arm. Then he looked at me again, his eyes searching mine. His jaw ticked the longer he watched me, and I think I blinked enough times to get him worried.

"Hey," he said, almost a whisper, just for me. Then there was a slight furrow in his brow, before he reached up for my face.

I knew his touch was going to be gentle, but I was afraid that regardless, it would hurt to be touched right now. I could barely feel anything, but I knew my entire face hurt. Instinctively, I flinched before his fingers could make contact.

His hand immediately froze mid-air, then he locked eyes with me for a moment. I didn't know what he saw in them, but his hand moved again and didn't stop until it settled softly around my chin. Very gently—so much that it brought tears to my eyes—he tilted my head to the side. It stayed quiet for a beat, and the whole time, I kept my eyes fixed on him.

Then his hand left my face, and he crouched to pick up my phone, discarded tote, and his messenger bag.

"Come on, let's go upstairs." His touch nudged me away from the wall and towards the stairs, and in the blurry corner of my eye, I saw Rhys move.

"I'm sorry, De. I didn't mean—"

"Just get outta here, man," Jason told him as his gentle hand on the small of my back guided me up the stairs. The words were calm, but it didn't take a genius to figure out through the lowness that there was contained anger beneath them.

The stairs shifted beneath me as we reached the top, and I reached a hand up to my head to steady myself. I wasn't sure why I thought that would work, but the sudden movement made me stumble a little. If it weren't for Jason's attentiveness, and the hand he had on me—which tightened in response—I probably would've face-planted and helped Rhys finish what he started.

When we got swallowed by the silence of the hallway, the moment seemed to settle. My chest tightened, and it was as if there was something lodged between my lungs that restricted their movements. I couldn't feel my legs, but I recognized my apartment door when we reached it.

I turned to it, forgetting that I wasn't with my bag, therefore couldn't access my keys, and Jason took my hand.

"No. Come here," he said, leading me away from the door and down the hall.

I leaned against the wall to steady myself when we stopped in front of his apartment, waiting for him to dig out his keys and unlock the door. He had one eye on me the whole time.

A whoosh of his scent hit me as he pushed the door open, and it was a huge reminder that whatever it was that just happened was over and I could go back to living my life. But it didn't stop the thump behind my ribcage, didn't take away the tingling in my arm and in my jaw, didn't soothe the ache in the back of my neck. And by the time I was standing in the middle of his organized apartment, I felt close to bursting. But I stayed still while he locked the door behind him and gently set our things down.

"De?" he called as he came to stand in front of me, a hand on my arm, concern swimming in his eyes now that Rhys was away.

I wasn't sure what it was about the way he said my name that broke me, but all of a sudden, it was too much. My breath trembled when I attempted to breathe in, and the awareness of how fragile I sounded pushed the tears to my eyes. Another inhale led to another tremble, then my vision wobbled until I couldn't even make out the man standing in front of me. My chest ached, almost physically, and quickly figuring I really couldn't hold this in, I stepped forward, feeling the world tilt as I moved.

Wordlessly, Jason pulled me in, settling my head beneath his chin as his arms wrapped around me.

I didn't want to cry, especially not over Rhys, especially not over this, but it forced its way out of me, and with every breath I took, a tremor racked through my body. My good arm tightened around him as I proceeded to bury my face in his shirt, too ashamed to be like this, and one of his hands came up to the back of my sore head, holding me close.

My face was hot, my head was pounding, and I was a little embarrassed that I was so off my game. But I stayed there, only realizing when his hand moved in my hair that I couldn't remember the last time I was properly hugged.