It’s four in the morning. Sleep definitely isn’t happening for me tonight.

I sit in my studio apartment with a coffee mug full of the wine Zeke gave me. My eyes jump from one area to the next as I come up with bare shards of a plan.

I just spent the last hour taping boxes together. They now sit in the corner, just waiting for my belongings. Out by Friday, Marty had said. I have less than three days to come up with a new living situation. And now that I’ve quit my only source of income — on the first day. Excellent idea, Rocky. — My prospects don’t look good. I don’t even have a car to live in.

The wine is helping. A little.

The alcohol flushes my tear-stained cheeks as I try to decide what will be kept and what will be tossed. I don’t have a huge amount of personal possessions but it’s definitely too much for me to carry around in a backpack.

I sigh and down the rest of the mug wine in a single gulp.

A bang on the door breaks the silence. I jump off the floor and balance on my knees, nearly dropping the mug. Terror fills my senses. My instincts strike and I roll over the floor, reaching underneath my bed for the baseball bat I keep strategically hidden from view. I leap to my feet and raise the bat over my head. The room shifts back and forth in my vision, lost in an alcoholic haze.

Another round of bangs pound in my ear. I reach for my phone and wonder how long it will take the police to respond. Hopefully, before I’m murdered.

“Rocky, let me in.”

“Zeke?!” I drop the bat and shuffle toward the door. My heart is thumping fast in my chest as I attempt multiple times to unlatch the door and swing it open.

I look up at Zeke and try to keep the door partially closed.

“Let me in,” he repeats. He takes a step forward and pushes on the door.

I don’t fight him, not that I ever could in this condition, and shift to the side to allow him in.

Zeke walks into my small apartment. His eyes glide over the bare white walls.

“So, you know where I live…” I notice.

“I’ve always known,” he says as he slides his hands in his pockets.

“Really?” I ask.

“When dad put me in charge of the hotel here, I looked you up.”

My mind swims. “That was like… two years ago.”

Zeke shrugs his shoulders. “What are these boxes for?” he asks.

“I have to move out,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t pay my rent,” I say, my lips feeling loose. “I’ve only made partial payments for three months so my landlord is evicting me.”

I feel a twinge of embarrassment, wondering what thoughts are in his mind as he sees how I live.

“Zeke, what are you doing here?” I ask.

“I realized something.”

“What?”

“That I lost you once already,” he says. “And I won’t go through that again.”

“Zeke…” I breathe. “I’m not yours to lose. I can’t be yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

He pauses in the middle of the room, his eyes staring down at me. “Is that what you really want?”

I hesitate. I want to say that I want him to hold me. I want to say that I want to feel him inside of me again. I want many things. But they are things that I can’t reasonably have.

“You should go, Zeke,” I say.

“You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“I’ve had a rough day,” I say, laughter boiling in my gut. I step into the kitchen. Dirty dishes are strung out on the counter, but I can’t bring myself to care about that right now.

“Talk to me, Rocky,” he says. He follows me into the kitchen and leans against the counter, blocking my exit.

I sigh and point to the stack of mail next to him on the counter. The red eviction notice sits on top. The letters beneath it are from my university. Zeke grabs them and flips through the pile.

“I’ve been dismissed from school,” I admit. “I read that letter today when I got home.” I turn around and open the refrigerator to grab the half-empty bottle of wine.

“You don’t need that. Put it down,” Zeke says, tossing the letters back onto the counter.

“No, Zeke,” I say, bringing the bottle to my lips. “This is pretty much all I have right now.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He steps toward me and grabs the bottle. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He takes the bottle from me and places it on the counter behind him. He uses his other arm to push me away from it, an easy task for his muscular frame.

“Well, what do you care, huh?” I shout, wiping some of the dribbling wine off my chin. “Mister handsome rich dude? Not a care in the world! I’ll just throw some money at all my problems and poof — all gone!”

Zeke shrugs. “I was dealt a better hand.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I say, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m nobody. I always have been.”

“You’re somebody to me,” he says. “You’re somebody to your whole family, Rocky. You’re acting very immature.”

“I think I’m allowed at least one day to feel genuine human emotion over how much my life sucks, Zeke.”

“I’ll give you thirty more seconds.”

I laugh. It rises from the depths of my gut and splits the air, tearing my body in two.

“What?” I chuckle between breaths.

“Twenty seconds.”

I stare at Zeke. For some reason, he seems taller. The silence weighs on me. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

“Ten seconds.”

He takes a few steps toward me.

My eyes fill with tears. “Zeke, please, just go—”

“Five,” he whispers, taking my face in his hands.

“Stop it—”

“Three, two, one.”

I freeze in his arms and look up into his eyes. The world feels heavy upon my shoulders as it crashes down around me.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit.

“Move into the penthouse with me,” he says.

I wiggle free of his grasp. “I can’t do that, Zeke. It’s not right…”

“Then, take a room at the hotel. Pick one. It’s yours.”

“I can’t afford that!”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “It’s your name on the building.”

I close my eyes. “I’m so tired of hearing that. I’m not a Belmont!”

“Yes, you are.” His tone is fierce. Final. “Stop looking for excuses to say no. Just take it.” He moves away from me in frustration. “You can live there while you go to school.”

“I can’t afford school either.”

“Yes. You can,” he argues with a smile.

“You’re not paying for my school, Zeke.”

“No, you are. With the compensation you earn while working for me.”

“I was already kicked out!”

“I’ll make a few phone calls. The Dean of admissions is a friend of the family.”

I fall silent. I don’t know where to go from here. I’m so tired. I feel like I’ve been fighting this fight for a hundred years. I don’t have the strength for yet another battle.

“Rocky,” Zeke begins. “You are your own worst enemy. There’s literally nothing standing in front of you, holding you back, other than you.”

“But…” I exhale.

“But what?”

“But I didn’t earn this.”

I left this family so I could make my own way. What kind of coward would I be if I were to turn around and run home now?

“Do you think that really matters?” Zeke asks. “No one gets anywhere in this world without someone — somewhere — at some time — lending them a hand.”

He holds out his hand to me.

“Take it.”

I fill my lungs with air. My eyes wander around my tiny studio apartment. I look at the boxes and the water damaged ceiling and the stained carpet. “This is a little more than a hand, Zeke.”

“That’s the rest of life’s big secret,” he says. “You just get lucky.”

I laugh, shaking my head from side-to-side. “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that, right?”

He nods. “Of course I do.”

I reach out and take his hand. He wraps his fingers around mine with a tight grip and pulls me closer.

“Pack a bag,” he says as he plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll send someone tomorrow to move the rest of your things to the hotel.”

“I can manage it myself—”

“Rocky.” Zeke lays a finger across my lips. “I’ll take care of it.”