Just after Trey and Max leave, I re-pack the suitcase, putting most of my friend’s clothes in the plastic laundry bags provided by the hotel since nearly everything smells worn. Just as I settle onto the couch near the window to keep working on my playlist, the door opens and Callen enters. He’s grasping at a small towel around his waist, but I can see his bare skin in the gap that the cloth doesn’t cover.

“What are you wearing?”

Startled, he drops the towel. “Shit! Zaina, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, my God!” I cover my mouth in shock, but stare for a second–for comparison’s sake–until he covers up again. Why isn’t he wearing anything? “So, it’s true?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s defensive, right off the bat.

“Did you really cheat on him?”

His eyes look everywhere around the room, avoiding me, until he sees the stain a few feet to my right. “Why is there blood on the carpet?”

“Did you?”

He takes a few shallow breaths. “Is he okay?”

“Did you?!”

“Does he know?”

“What do you think?”

“Shit… it didn’t… it didn’t mean anything.”

I huff at his response and stand to confront him. “I can’t believe you would do that to him!”

“Zaina, shit! I don’t know why I did it.” His voice trembles and his eyes begin to water, but I feel no sympathy for him. I walk three steps toward him and slap him across the face, a move he never saw coming. He drops the towel again. I grab his swim shorts off the floor and throw them at him.

“Wait… how did my shorts get here?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t feel sorry for you at all, Callen!”

“Oh, fuck… he was there?” After putting his trunks on, he covers his mouth, shocked as he realizes what Max likely witnessed. When he blinks, tears drip from both eyes.

“Great detective work.”

He looks at his hand strangely, then down at his shorts. It’s the first time I noticed the dark red splotches. “Why is there blood on them?”

“Figure it out, Sherlock. You know, it wasn’t enough that you broke Brinlee’s heart two years ago, but you’re going to do it to my other best friend now? How could you? How could you do this to him?!”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know why I did it.”

“You better come up with some answers.”

“I was mad,” he starts. “Drinking. And mad… and I… sh–where is he? What happened?” Anguished, he points to the floor.

“I should just let you suffer. I shouldn’t even tell you. You don’t deserve to know anything about him,” I tell him stubbornly.

“Why is his suitcase packed?”

“He’s not staying with you! He can stay with us or in another room. We’ll pay for it. He obviously doesn’t want to stay with you.”

“We can work this out,” he pleads.

“No!” I shout. “You had plenty of opportunities to work it out with him before you… before you went out and did whatever you did with some other guy! God, Callen! He loves you! He’s done everything for you! How could you mess this up?”

“I don’t know!”

“Stop saying that!”

“I never wanted to hurt him.”

“Well, you have. You’ve broken him.” My voice cracks. “You broke him.” I start to cry.

“Zai,” he says softly. “Come on. Is he in your room?”

“No, he’s at the hospital, Callen.” I look back at the floor. “That blood? He needs stitches.”

“He punched through the window?” He walks closer to see Max’s blood on the glass, too.

“Yes.”

“Can I go? Should I–”

“No, you should stay away from him. He doesn’t want to see you right now, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know what to do. Should I… clean up, maybe?”

“Callen you’ve got to get yourself together. Put on some clean clothes and figure out your life! Stop hurting my friends because I really don’t like you right now.”

“Come on, I’m sorry…”

“I’m gonna take his things,” I say, tugging at the heavy luggage.

“Zaina, no.” He pulls the suitcase toward him.

“Yes!” I yank harder. “Yes! I’m taking his stuff, Callen. We’ll figure out where he’s staying. You figure out your own stuff.”

“What am I supposed to do about all of this?” he asks, motioning to the mess of glass in the room and on the patio.

“I guess you should call the front desk and have them fix the window or move you to another room. Pay for the damages. Beg for forgiveness from them, I don’t know. It’s a start.”

“But I didn’t do it…”

“You didn’t do it? You brought this on! This is your problem. All of this is your problem,” I say, waving around in front of me. “All of this is your fault, okay? Accept the blame and fix yourself. But don’t expect Max to be there when you’re better… when you figure out the person you’re supposed to be. He’s too good for you. He always has been. Always.”

He stares at me and allows me to walk to the door with Max’s luggage. I open the door myself.

“I hope I don’t see you anymore on this trip,” I tell him before slamming the door behind me.

I stand just outside, trying to catch my breath. I’ve never talked to him that way before, and my heart is racing. Just before I start to walk away, I hear him talking.

“Max, it’s me. You have to call me.” He starts sobbing on the phone, and I walk away. I will not feel sympathy for him.

A couple hours later, Trey returns to the room, his nice shirt wrinkled and bloodied. I help him out of it–and his undershirt–and ask him how Max is.

“Devastated.”

“You got him another room?”

“Dad made arrangements to get him flown to New York on a private jet tonight.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yeah. This place is no paradise to him. He just wanted to go home.”

“I gave Callen a piece of my mind.”

“I heard. I stopped by his room.”

“You did?” He nods. “Why?”

“To see where his head’s at.”

“Do we care about that?”

“I do.”