“Stop!” I shrieked with laughter, as Dylan pointed the shower hose at my face.

He giggled as he turned the showerhead back toward my arms. “Sorry! It was just too tempting.”

I gasped at his admission.

“I mean, it was an accident!” he corrected himself through his maniacal laughter.

My hands and wrists were so caked with soil, I had asked Dylan to come upstairs with me to help me rinse off in the shower. I was fully clothed, except for my bare feet. The sleeves of my green hoodie were pulled up above my elbows as I bent over the tub drain and held my arms out for Dylan to hose me off. Apparently, he thought it would be funny to “accidentally” spray me in the face.

I tried to wipe my wet face off on my shoulder. “Oh, I’ll get you for this,” I declared, rubbing the inside of my wrist to scrape off the dirt.

A very loud noise, like the crack of an ear-splitting firework or small explosive, cut through our laughter. Unable to stop myself, I batted the shower hose out of Dylan’s hand and slid in the bathtub as I hastily attempted to escape. Dylan attempted to help me up, but I swung at him.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Laurel, let me help you up,” he pleaded, reaching out to me again.

“Laurel! Are you okay?” Jack’s voice got louder with every word, and within seconds he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

I looked up at him, my body bristling with horror. “What was that? Was that a gun?”

Dylan slowly reached past me to turn off the water.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, his eyes wide with horror. “Just stay here. I’ll take a look outside.”

“No. No, no, no, no. You can’t go out there!”

“I have to!” he shouted, then he disappeared down the hallway.

“It’s okay,” Dylan assured me as he helped me out of the tub. “He’ll be fine. You should get changed into something dry and I’ll go see what’s going on outside.”

“No, you can’t go out there. Jack can’t go out there.” I clutched at the painful spasm in my chest. “I have to go. I can’t let Jack go alone.”

Before I even stepped out of the bathroom, another loud bang startled us both. Dylan and I dropped to the floor, holding onto each other as another shot rang out.

“Mrs. Stratton! Are you okay?” It was Matt.

“We’re fine!” Dylan shouted back as he held me tighter and whispered, “You’re fine, Laurel. We’re all fine. Everything’s fine.”

But as he stroked my hair and murmured consolations in my ear, I remembered that Jack was downstairs. Or was he outside?

I pushed Dylan off of me and sprung to my feet. “Jack!” I shouted as I ran out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and raced down the steps toward the open front door. “Jack!”

Matt tried to stop me as I barreled past him onto the front porch, but I was moving too fast. I raced down the steps and followed the sound of male voices and grunts to the driveway. When I got there, my heart nearly exploded when I saw Jack on the concrete, his enormous bicep and forearm locked tightly around Isaac’s neck.

“Stop fighting!” Jack grunted.

Ace held his left arm close to his body, as if he was injured. He seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to stop Isaac from kicking, but he was at a serious disadvantage as he could only use his right arm. Isaac clawed at Jack’s forearm, attempting to free himself.

“Stop!” I cried. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

As I approached, I saw the dark-red glistening blood pouring out of a wound on Isaac’s leg.

“Stop it, Jack!” I shrieked. “Stop! You’re killing him!” I took one more step before Matt grabbed both my arms from behind and pulled me backward. “Call 9-1-1!” I shouted, hoping Dylan or another neighbor would hear me. “They’re killing him! Call 9-1-1!”

The last thing I felt was my heart thumping a million beats per minute before I blacked out.

* * *

I woke in a dimly lit hospital room. My lips and throat dry, my nose stuffy, and the skin around my eyes raw and taut. The harsh fluorescent lights burned holes in my vision, dark spots that danced around as I tried to sit up.

“Don’t sit up yet. Give yourself a minute or you’ll blow.” Jack’s voice sounded annoyed, almost angry.

I turned my head slowly to the right to look at him. “What’s going on? Why am I in here?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “They had to sedate you,” he said, rising from the chair. “I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake so we can get you signed out.” He stopped in the doorway with his back to me, his head turned slightly so I could see the side of his face, but he didn’t look my way. “I’ll send Dylan in. He was pretty worried when I left him in the waiting room.”

I drew in a long breath as I took in my surroundings. I was still in my clothes, which still felt a bit damp along the backs of my legs. Except for a couple of scratches on my forearms and a cotton ball taped to the crook of my arm, I appeared unscathed.

I was lying on top of the bed, not tucked beneath the hospital blanket. There were no IVs in my arms, like the time I was strapped to a gurney and placed on a 72-hour psych hold. This all had to mean I wasn’t being committed. Jack would be able to take me home today. But, what exactly had I done that I needed to be sedated?

Dylan stood in the doorway, his hands tucked in the pockets of his skinny jeans. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” I replied, slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Dylan said, leaning in to whisper in my ear as he adjusted the pillows behind me. “Jack is pissed.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as he stepped back. “Why? What happened? Where’s Isaac?”

Dylan ran his hand over his hair as he glanced through the doorway at the corridor beyond. “Isaac is in surgery. He tried to attack Ace, so Ace shot him in the leg. The bullet must have nicked an artery, because he lost a lot of blood. Ace is in surgery too. I guess Isaac got the gun away from him and shot him in the arm. It’s such a mess.”

My breathing grew shallow. “Is he… Are they going to be okay?”

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not family, so they won’t tell me anything. But…” He glanced at the doorway again, then leaned in to whisper. “You had to be sedated because when you woke up, Jack was having trouble keeping you from trying to get into the ambulance.”

“What? That’s… I don’t remember any of that.” I looked down at my legs and arms again.

The sleeves of my green hoodie were still pulled up the way they were when I was rinsing off in the tub. When I tugged the right sleeve down, a dark stain stretched out before me from where it was hidden between the folds.

“Is that… blood?” I whispered, my breathing quickening. “Whose blood is that?”

Dylan glanced into the corridor again. “You want me to close the door so we can switch tops? Here. Take my T-shirt.”

Before I could protest, Dylan shut the door and pulled off his white and black The Weeknd T-shirt. I quickly pulled off my hoodie and handed it to him, then I tugged on his shirt. It was warm and smelled crisp, a little like Jack’s aftershave.

I gasped as a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Where’s Boomer?”

Dylan’s eyes widened as he pushed up the sleeves of my hoodie. “Oh, shit! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Boomer’s at home alone.”

“You have to go check on him. He’s not used to Isaac being gone,” I insisted.

He nodded. “Will you be all right without me?”

I smiled at his concern. “Yeah, of course.”

He flashed me a weak smile. “I know shit is probably about to go down with you and Jack. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything at all, okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So, is that everything that happened after I blacked out?”

Dylan winced at my question. “No, but… Well, I think Jack might be even more upset because… while they were wheeling Isaac toward the ambulance, he said he loved you.”

“What? That can’t be true.” I chuckled nervously. “You’re joking, right?”

He shook his head. “He had this sort of glazed look, like the lights were on but nobody was home. So you might be able to just chalk it up to hysteria,” Dylan continued, glancing at the doorway again before he whispered, “But he definitely said ‘I love you, Laurel.’”