"Did I tell you I've been looking up on gardening?"

Dad's voice made me flinch in the cold where I sat out on the porch, staring worriedly into the dusk. I hadn't noticed the time slipping by. I'd only just wanted to get out of the house after waking up from another all-consuming nightmare.

Dad had somehow known, like the previous two nights, that I was outside alone and had joined me. I tried to make as less noise as possible, but he somehow always figured that I was slipping outside.

Maybe he heard the cruel misery slipping past my lips, when trapped in my nightmares.

Now though, he only stepped outside and sat down on the porch stairs beside me with a big yawn. I glanced over at him to see he was already watching me. There was, however, no judgement in his eyes. Only warmth.

"I...didn't know you were into gardening," I said, just to break the silence, just to prove to him that I wasn't too into my head--still stuck in there after two days--after leaving Ryder and all that should have been my forever.

"I wasn't," he replied, then gestured at the various gardening tools scattered at the bottom of the giant apple tree in his yard. "But apparently, I am now. I love music, you know I do, but sometimes it all gets too be too much. Sometimes...the thing you love the most, you need to distance yourself from it a bit before the attachment starts becoming unhealthy. So I thought up gardening as this new thing."

I had to look away from the soft honey of his eyes. Dad knew almost everything from the moment Santiago had kidnapped me (because he was familiar with Santiago when he'd had a gun aimed at him) to the torturous days at end I'd been trapped there, and then finally to the last day where I'd lost Ryder.

When I'd left him.

He'd only welcomed me with open arms when I'd rang the bell on his door two days ago. He hadn't questioned me, didn't bombard me with a thousand questions when he saw the painful heartbreak on my face and in my mind. Only held me close until I didn't have to hold myself up anymore.

Two whole days and there had been no contact with Ryder.

I squeezed my eyes closed--felt the whisper of the too fresh nightmare clawing at the skin of my brain--the lashes, the blood, the pain--the pain Ryder would endure by the hands of his own father--and it just felt like I couldn't breathe.

Lately, breathing had been feeling like a chore.

Dad's hand rested on my back, slowly rubbing comfort into me. He'd seen this exact version of me breaking down many times in the two days I'd been here. I was afraid he'd be getting sick of me very soon.

"Please tell me," I whispered into my knees--afraid and upset. Regret coated my tongue. "Tell me if I get to be too much for you." Tell me before I have to leave.

Dad exhaled softly beside me. A soft meow broke the cool, morning silence around us. I felt Gem joining us outside from the small cat door Dad had installed for her just yesterday, rubbing against my side before inevidently climbing into Dad's lap. Gem hadn't had a hard time adjusting out of the one place that had been her home too. I, on the other hand, couldn't breathe at times when I thought of never seeing Ryder again.

"I'm happy, Alice," Dad spoke, "that you're here and that I can keep an eye on you. I want you here. I won't be kicking you out."

They were just plain statements, but the fact that he'd simply contradicted the loop of self hate inside of me--blatantly stating that he won't kick me out--maybe that's what my mind needed right then.

"I think you should try gardening with me." He added, a sleepy smile in his voice. "I can show you a few tricks. I've got these packs of seeds being delivered in a few hours. I'll show you how to plant them."

And since I wasn't any better than an empty walking shell these days, I let him plan it all out for me. He got me up and inside after a few more minutes, Gem all cuddled against his chest, saying something about breakfast omelette and new hobbies.

I think sometimes he looked for distractions too--to stave off the hurt in his life.

•••••

--pain so crippling that I couldn't breathe--couldn't scream--couldn't see past it. My back, my back, my back. It screamed in agony and fire. My hands trembled--too much blood on them. It wasn't my blood. It wasn't mine, mine, mine. It was Ryder's. I didn't want him to hurt. I should've done something. I should've stopped him--

I should've stopped him.

I should've--

"Do you think she ate one of those leaves?" Dad asked me one late afternoon as we both stood before his newly growing garden. It looked like soil had exploded everywhere when he'd first started with it. But now as time had passed, the boundaries of it seemed more refined.

I looked over at the row of herbs he'd planted along one section of the yard, near the fence of the house. I'd been there, helped him gently settle the roots more firmly into the soil that he'd made me prepare. The rosemary plant did look like it was missing a handful of leaves, though.

"I don't think Gem eats it." My voice still sounded gritty--the same it had been since this morning--aching in a way that told me maybe I'd screamed in my sleep again. "But I did have to stop her from rolling over the soil."

Dad only laughed--didn't scold--because he'd developed a soft spot for Gem. He'd welcomed her into this house just as warmly as he'd welcomed me. It was me sometimes, when I focused my attention on Gem too much, that selfishly felt sick at the sight of her. Because she was supposed to be at Ryder's house. Because having her here with me felt like a finalty that made my heart break.

I couldn't fathom a life--days on end--where I'd never get to see him again. My heart couldn't understand even when my mind knew his reasons.

"So." Dad broke me out of my thoughts once again, clearing his throat. "Your sister called on the house phone. She was asking if it'd be alright to visit?"

I thought of Alyssa being here in this house, and couldn't help but think of her being here before, when she would've been worried, knowing no one else to contact when she must've heard of the fire at my dormitory and couldn't have gotten a hold of me from anywhere.

I looked down at my hands--at the reddened skin on my wrist that I kept pressing my fingers against. Santiago had left me with marks that were already fading. They weren't anywhere visible to my dad anymore, except for my wrists--especially my right wrist that I somehow always found myself worsening.

Something in my battered mind wanted that mark to remain.

"Would you like to see her?" Dad asked me, his voice too gentle. "She's been very worried for days now."

"Do you...not mind her coming here?" I asked him. Alyssa was a blatant evidence of Mom falling in love with another man when she hadn't ever been capable of giving even a bit of that love and understanding to him. Or to me. I didn't know how awful it would be for him to see her--see the child she had wanted instead of me.

"Why would I?" He asked me knowingly. "She's someone who cares for you, who cared for you when that sick woman who's supposed to be your mother didn't."

I couldn't look up at him then. Reminders of Mom only made me think of what wasn't here anymore. Alyssa had known that I'd been missing. She'd contacted Dad, maybe forced it out of Mom to tell her where he lived. Mom would've known too. She'd just never cared.

"Your sister wanted to see you the moment I let her know you were safe." He continued and he sounded sad, as if he could've prevented any of this. "I didn't let her because I didn't think you were ready."

I'd been an empty shell ever since I'd left Ryder's penthouse and come here to Dad's. I wasn't sure what I would've said if he'd asked me earlier.

"I'd like to see her," I told him softly.

When Alyssa came--almost instantly agreeing to visit as soon as Dad made a phone call to her--she carried too many shopping bags with her, which she literally tossed in the hallway past Dad's front door, and engulfed me into the longest hug she'd ever given me.

It was a very long one. I didn't complain.

"Oh, Alice," she whispered into my hair, and I closed my eyes against her.

It felt a little okay, like maybe I wouldn't be miserable forever, when Dad and Alyssa both started conversing in a way that wasn't awkward at all. Alyssa showed me all the things she'd bought for me under stress, which was sweet, and all my things she had collected from my dormitory when they'd closed the building after the fire. She told me that she'd somewhat taken care of my entire university semester from flunking--that she'd contacted my examination advisor and convinced her to let me sit my final exams at a later date. Maybe in the summer break.

And then when the conversation lulled to a quiet comfort, Alyssa asked me where Ryder was. I couldn't suddenly speak anymore. It was all too much and too sudden. Dad maybe saw me growing agitated--slipping away--because then he was there, suggesting we order pizza and watch a movie.

I didn't want to watch a movie. I wanted...I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to go back to Ryder. I wanted him to hold me again like the last time he'd held me, and maybe this time I'd find words to tell him that I was scared. I was scared, really terrified, of his father and of what he'd do to him. Maybe convince him to not go.

Please, don't go, I sent him a text with trembling fingers and slow dread. Even though I knew it wouldn't do anything--that he was gone the moment I'd left him.

I had Rafael's contact in my phone too. I just didn't think I had it in me to call him and find out that there was really nothing I could do.

•••••

And so a whole week passed by.

I'd managed to contact Nico when I saw his numerous calls and texts on my phone--managed to convince him I was okay. But I think it was more to my benefit that he agreed to my lies. Everything was fine but I didn't think I was okay.

It was in the moments in the late of the night when I'd be lying on the guestroom bed that Dad had now made my own, and I'd reach for the semblance of normality I had before. In the state between sleep and nothing, I'd reach for Ryder only to find him not there.

And then I'd be lost. Lost and dreading the absolute worst.

I'll come back, he'd said. But why would his father let him when he'd held it over him as a threat?

It was Tuesday when Dad called me downstairs in a voice that sounded wary. I was stuck in one of those phases where getting out of bed felt scary. Dad had found me in such moods more times than not these past few days. He was hesitant to say it--I'd seen him trying to touch the topic of it and then silence himself multiple times--but he had eventually asked me to see a therapist. That he had a friend who could write me a referral. That he'd go there with me and stay and wait for me. That it was, of course, my choice in the end and he wouldn't ever force me if I wasn't sure about it.

I'd just nodded along to it because I hadn't known what else to do.

We were to visit the clinic today. I realized that maybe this is why he was calling me downstairs, to let me know when we should be leaving.

Gem left my room before I could've, and seeing her leave was maybe what got me out of bed more than Dad's call. I got up, shrugged on one of the two hoodies that Dad had lent me after I'd told him that I wanted to wear something large that would let me hide (during one of my better moments here), and walked downstairs.

Only to freeze up the moment I caught sight of Dad holding the front door open, his eyes already seeking my own.

I got my answer to why he'd sounded so strange when he'd called me downstairs.

His hands and arms were wrapped around large sunflowers. More bouquets that I could see he had no space to hold for. I...I stopped where I stood. Couldn't move on at the sight of them.

"Hey, kiddo. Mind giving me a hand?" Dad asked me with a confused, half-shrug.

I couldn't move.

"That's okay too," he said to me when I failed to go near him, and then I saw him directing his next words to the delivery boy. "You can come inside. Just place the rest somewhere on that table."

Seconds ticked by into minutes, the delivery truck pulled out of the driveway and Dad closed the door with a loud sigh, softly ushering Gem out of the way as she went over to the sunflowers and tried to chew on the wrapping.

"Alice." Dad was suddenly in front of me, his eyes so enormously sad all of a sudden as his hands found my shoulders. "What's the matter?"

I was crying. I hadn't realized. Dad pulled me close and hugged me, telling me it'll be okay, again and again and again, when I knew it just wasn't.

"I'm guessing these are from...Ryder?" He asked me tentatively, only when my tears had seemed to stop. He still didn't push me away.

I closed my eyes at his name. "He's not here."

Dad exhaled. "Tell me again why he left? It's just...you haven't exactly told me why he left you. Did he..." He stopped. I felt him tense up as he slowly pushed me away and looked down at me. His eyebrows were furrowed in an angry parental way. I sniffled. "Did he do something, Alice? I just assumed you both were taking a break and it might not be my place to ask right now...but I've waited for days now and you seem even more heartbroken each day. Did he do something he shouldn't have? Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head and couldn't help--couldn't contain how my eyes sought the rows of sunflowers now adorning most of Dad's kitchen.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"I want him." The words left my lips--still a whisper.

Dad made a questioning sound.

"I...wanted him to stay." I found my words, felt myself tripping on them--wanting to get them out and not let my insides ache with all the withholding. "I've never wanted someone as much as I want him. I've had...I've dated so many people, Dad." My voice broke miserably. "I've never really loved anyone like I...I love him. I care for him. So much. He's been...I just can't imagine my life without him in it."

The expression on his face softened. "And I know that can't be the problem, kiddo. I've seen him around you. He's very...intense. But I've seen how he looks at you. Love's not a problem here, is it?"

I shook my head.

"Then what is?"

How did I tell him? "His...his father," I managed to speak it out, "is very dangerous. And awful to him. He worked for him but then he stopped and now. Now he's went back to him. I...I told him not to. I asked him to stay. He didn't."

He frowned. "That doesn't sound right."

I had to squeeze me eyes close--had to force it out. "I think it was me--my protection against his own. His father found out about me and he's always held things over him, I think. To hurt him. He's always hurt him. I--I tried telling him to not go, that I knew he'd get hurt, that I didn't want him to get hurt. But he didn't listen to me."

Dad listened to every word that came out of me, listened even if none of this would be making any sense to him. I was so...incredibly grateful to have him in that moment--to have him with me. He cared. If Mom were here in his place, she wouldn't have listened past the first sentence that left my mouth.

"Did he say he wouldn't be coming back, though?" Dad asked.

I stared at him, felt my chin trembling. "I know he won't."

The look in his eyes grew warm. "But did he say those exact words, honey?"

I looked down and away, then couldn't help and look at the sunflowers again. "He'll be hurt."

"But he'll come back." Dad spoke to me. I looked at him and the eyes I shared with him stared back at me. "If you love someone that much, they'd always return."

••••

The sunflowers were from Rafael.

He called me sometime at night on my phone, asking me if I'd received them, telling me that he hoped I was okay and that the flowers were the correct ones too. All the while he sounded incredibly upset.

Almost as upset as I felt right then.

"Ryder had asked me to do this after the two-week mark," Rafael said after the silence on the phone went on for too long. I didn't know what to say and it seemed like he didn't know either. "He was...very specific about the correct order. There were these tiny sunflowers too. But he said to order the big ones for you."

I was on the floor, leaning against my bedroom wall and staring out at the moon from the window. Nothing about this made sense.

"So..." He fell silent, seemed to murmur something under his breath that was too light for me to hear. I didn't think it was proper English anyway. "Well. He actually also asked me to tell you to not worry. About him."

I pressed my forehead against my knees. "I can't not worry, Rafael."

"He said that you would say something like that."

I dug my fingers into my right wrist.

"And he said to promise it to you that he would come back. That you should trust him."

I inhaled slowly. "Is he hurt?"

There was silence. And then Rafael spoke in a low voice, "I don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"I have not seen him. I am still here and he is there--in Mexico--with his father. I cannot go there, I am just not allowed to." He sounded angry saying that.

"Do you..." I stopped, couldn't get the words out. "Did you know how bad his father was with him?"

I thought he hung up on me. That's how long he stayed quiet.

"I did not know it was bad, Alice." He confessed after a while. He sounded distraught. "I found out recently. It is not--it has been killing me. He is a brother to me, you know? My closest confidante. Ever since we were kids. And I had no fucking clue. Mierda."

Santiago's words pounded against my skull. My own nightmares clawed against my skin.

"How...how long do you think he'd stay there?" I asked, felt my heart race at my own stupidity. Did I really want to know the answer to that?

Rafael refused to answer me.

"Raff." I pleaded softly.

"He's not going to let him leave, Alice." He murmured. "There's...please don't take this the wrong way but Dacio knows everything about you. There's no bullshit when it comes to him. He's worse than Santiago--he trained Santiago, okay? Everything Santiago was was because of him. He's a danger in our world. And he holds this thing--what you and Ryder have--over Ryder's head. I think he's finally found something to hold over him. Mierda, to keep him in check."

I forced my head up from my knees and looked at the sunflowers on my nightstand. At the yellow that seemed to ground me to a reality that felt nauseous.

"Fuck. He is a right fucking bastard."

"Who will save him?" I asked him, my voice coming out raw.

Rafael exhaled sharply. "No one there."

I felt the only living embers of hope dying within me. Crumpling into ashes.

"How..." My voice broke. I leaned my head back against the wall. "How many more times will you be sending these flowers from him?"

"Well...every week, he said."

I don't want them, I wanted to say. Plead. Beg. I can't have them.

Rafael sighed. Clouds crossed the bright moon and for a moment, it hid. "No one is going to help him there. I know. But someone has to."