Almost a week had gone by since my dad’s house burned down.

I stood in my diner uniform, which was naturally spotted with coffee and dotted with crumbs from people’s toast, and waved as the last table of our breakfast rush left the premises. They waddled with full bellies to their vehicles and drove home for afternoon naps, leaving Marcia and me to deal with the cleanup.

I stared out the window, lost in thought, a pile of plates still in my hands. Marcia crept up beside me, took the plates, placed them on the counter, and wrapped me in a firm, motherly hug. This was my first shift back at the diner, and I was noticeably shaken, a bit off—mistaking orders and looking generally panicked.

“Oh, honey,” Marcia murmured into my ear. “I know this is going to be a rough time for you. Just stay strong, all right? Can you do that for me?”

I stared blankly at her, feeling unfocused and far away. “Sure,” I responded, unsure if this was an appropriate answer to what she’d said. I’d already forgotten the words. “That was quite a rush, wasn’t it?”

“Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” she whispered. “Let me order you some food, yeah? Something to put some meat on those bones. Always too skinny, little Luna.”

No longer able to put on a brave face, I collapsed on a diner stool and placed my head in my hands, sensing another sob fest coming on. I’d spent the majority of the past week at my friend Donna’s, staring miserably at the wall as the image of that fire erupting around me continued to plague me.

“You should probably look into therapy,” she’d told me more than once. “After my uncle lost his family, he needed it for a few years. But he says the nightmares have stopped.”

In the cop car, before they’d dropped me at Donna’s, the police had asked me countless questions about Colt. But I’d sensed that the topic was delicate, and that as he raced toward Mexico, he didn’t need anyone else chasing after him. The Detroit Seven were enough.

So, I’d refused to make an official statement, telling them that the man I’d been with had been a drifter, that he was probably halfway to California by that point. I didn’t mention he’d taken my car with him on his mad dash. I figured it didn’t matter.

“What you need to know,” I’d told the police, looking wide-eyed and crazed, “is that Colt isn’t a bad guy. Not in the least.”

“That doesn’t really help our investigation,” the officer had said.

“I’m not here to make your day easier,” I’d retorted.

Rolling their eyes, they’d dropped me off at Donna’s, saying they’d be in touch. But in the days that had followed, they hadn’t contacted me. Wes Kraemer and his henchmen had been arrested, but that’s all I knew. The police weren’t sharing anything with the media, as part of a “wider investigation,” they said.

Marcia filled the space in front of me with a large burger, extra fries, and a milkshake—a two thousand calorie meal, if I’d ever seen one. The look of it made my stomach turn. I shoved it away from me, giving Marcia a sad smile.

“I just don’t think I can,” I whispered.

“Just sit with it a while,” Marcia ordered, giving me a ‘stern mom’ look.

Rolling my eyes, feeling like an arrogant teenager, I reached to the side and grabbed the remote control, turning on the television in the corner of the diner. One of the cooks ambled out of the kitchen, swiping his hands across his apron. The news was on; it was always on, to give us weather information and our hearty dose of politics.

But, as luck would have it, today I struck gold. The news was covering the recent events in the outskirts of Iowa City. And, wouldn’t you know, Wes Kraemer’s face flashed across the screen, sending a shiver down my spine.

“That’s him,” I mumbled.

“Who?” Marcia asked.

Stabbing my finger against the volume button, I listened closely as the perky, white-toothed reporter told the story.

“A bit of excitement in the past week in Iowa City, as a local businessman, Wes Kraemer, was taken in on charges of loansharking, bribery, and blackmail. At this time, he’s also being investigated for further criminal connections which link him to crime all around the Midwestern states, as well as a murder charge.”

My heart hammered as I waited for any sign of Colt. I’d been hunting for him on the local news, in newspapers, even online, and I had come up dry. The station soon transitioned to a car crash on the other side of town, leaving me with the bittersweet idea that Colt might have actually gotten away.

“What on earth happened to that boy you met here last week?” Marcia asked me, as if she could read my mind. “You said you were alone when the fire happened. Were you?”

I gaped at her, unsure of how to answer. Shrugging slightly, I lifted the burger toward my lips and took a big, juicy bite. The flavor—burnt, yet covered with ketchup and mustard—activated my brain, and I shivered at the pleasure that came from fueling myself.

Colt must be all right. They would have said so on the news if that weren’t true. I’d been frightened that he might have been at Kraemer’s when they arrested him. But, in reality, I’d been correct in thinking he had made his mad dash for Mexico, as far away as he could go.

I supposed if I had that little paper in my pocket, claiming I was “next,” I would have run, too.

“Good to see you eating again,” Marcia said, stroking her hand across my hair. “You should really get that burnt bit chopped off, honey. You could even get a cute bob for winter. Wouldn’t that be darling?”

I took another bite of my burger, avoiding an answer. The news had now transitioned to rising college tuition rates, and I felt far away, in another world, thinking only of Colt. I’d spent less than 24 hours with him, and yet it seemed he was the brightest light of my adult life.

The passion we’d felt for each other, it had been real, hadn’t it? The way he’d gazed into my eyes as we’d made love, touching noses, our tongues caressing one another’s. It hadn’t been just another fling. I couldn’t live with it if it was.

I ate half the burger and then dipped a fry into the chocolate milkshake. Gazing at the calendar on the wall, I realized with a jump that it was November 2^nd and I’d missed Halloween. Gaping, I pointed.

“Marcia, I can’t believe I missed an entire week of my life,” I said, aghast.

“Oh, you should have seen the little kids who swung by here to get some candy,” Marcia said, tittering lightly. “Some really silly costumes this year. They’re getting so creative. But anyway, now it’s about time for the weather to turn, don’t you think? I’m ready for some chill. It’s far too hot right now. I still have to mow my grass. That’s a travesty.”

Leaping up from my stool, feeling suddenly driven to live again, as if that loss of time had kick-started my heart, I unlaced my apron from my waist and dropped it in my locker. It was the end of my shift, as Marcia would man the lunch hour and another girl would come later for dinner. I grabbed my jean jacket from the staff room wall, thrust my arms into it, and then hugged Marcia, grateful she’d encouraged me to eat.

“You’re doing more for me than you know,” I whispered in her ear. She was the only person in Iowa City who knew Colt existed. She held my secret close.

“You know I’m here for you whenever you need me,” she whispered back, cupping my head with her hand.

We parted ways, and I headed out to the back lot, from which I would take the short walk back to my apartment. I’d call Donna when I arrived, telling her that I didn’t need to stay with her any longer. I needed to work on finding peace within myself. Besides, the only thing I’d really lost was the house. I still had my father. I still had my job, my sense of self. Colt had been nothing but a passing fancy, an outlaw whose route just happened to go through my town.

But when I left the diner, I spotted a tall, muscular form leaning heavily against my little red Chevy. Shocked and overjoyed, I rushed toward him. His face stretched into a smile, his blue eyes twinkling. Stretching his hand forward, he placed his palm on my cheek, rubbing at it. We held one another’s gaze for a long time, as if neither of us had believed we would see the other again.

After a long pause, I ducked into his embrace, inhaling the scent of him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me into him, pressing our chests tightly together so that I could feel his beating heart.

Shuddering with pleasure, I finally spoke. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

In my head, I made up the story, telling it to myself in a way that seemed romantic, beautiful. Colt had probably driven halfway to Mexico before realizing that he couldn’t go anywhere without me. Our love had been real. He couldn’t deny that. He’d returned and would take me away with him. He would help me create a new, vibrant life someplace else. All we needed was each other.

But as Colt pulled away, I saw hesitance in his eyes. Placing my hands on his chest, I peered up at him, waiting.

“You look like you have about a million things to say,” I whispered, chuckling slightly. “How far did you get before you came back? I imagined you already on a beach somewhere, a margarita in your hand, happy as could be…”

I trailed off, becoming nervous. Around us, an early November sun streamed atop our shoulders. It was like the earth had given up on any kind of schedule. It was just as panicked as I was.

“I went back to Kraemer’s after the fire,” he finally said.

My lips parted in shock. When I hadn’t seen his name on the news, I’d thought, surely, that he’d high-tailed it straight to Mexico. But his eyes bled the truth. He had been through some serious shit in the past week, and he was still recovering from it.

“Should we sit down?” I murmured, rubbing his back.

Colt leaned heavily against my car, swiping his hands across his forehead. I massaged his strong biceps, his square shoulders, hoping to relieve some of the tension. He blinked several times, trying to regain his speech.

“What happened?” I asked, coaxing him.

“I went back to—I don’t know—teach them a lesson. But I saw the cops coming toward me, following me. I knew I didn’t have much time before they took all of us in, so I fought them.”

“Jesus, Colt. They could have murdered you,” I gasped, drawing my hand over my mouth. “Why would you even give them the chance?”

“Because I was pissed; that’s why,” he explained gruffly. “They tied you up and lit your house on fire. That’s worse than anything I’ve ever seen a gang do. Try to murder an innocent person like that.”

“The Seven killed your best friend…” I said cautiously.

“That asshole meddled with dangerous people, and so did I,” he muttered. A darkness passed over his eyes. “Anyway, the cops arrived shortly after and arrested all four of us—those goons, Chester and Hank, and then Wes and I. But once they realized I had a bit more information about the Wes Kraemer scandal—and stuff that could wrap up investigations in Detroit—they kept me even longer.”

“So you told them everything?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. They weren’t planning on releasing me unless I gave them something really good. It wasn’t like I could just up and escape to Mexico after giving them Wes Kraemer. Naw, they would have gotten him anyway.”

Tears sprang to my eyes as I pictured it: Colt in a white-washed police cell, fielding questions from big-bellied cops who didn’t give a shit where he’d come from, that his best friend had died, that his life had been one lonely spell after another.

“I testified about the Detroit Seven,” Colt said, his eyes flickering to mine. “I told them about Aaron’s murder, about the drugs, about everything. And because I still had the note they’d left me, the one that said ‘you’re next,’ they believed me. They turned over my testimony to the police in Detroit, who used it to finally arrest some of the top people in the gang—certainly the people who were on the hunt for me. And in return, they offered me my freedom. Freedom. Jesus, that word tastes so good in my mouth.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After running from violence, from death, Colt had found refuge with the police force of Iowa City, of all places. Using him, they’d given peace back to a neighborhood in Detroit that had been ravaged for years by crime.

And they’d given Colt his life back.

“You’re safe?” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. “It’s over?”

Colt lifted his hands to my cheeks and brought my face toward his, kissing me deeply, earnestly—as if he’d assumed we’d never kiss again. I’d assumed the same.

Our kiss deepened, nearly stopping time with its urgency. His tongue crept forward, parting my lips and gliding across mine, causing me to moan. I wrapped my hands around his broad shoulders. After the week he’d had, he seemed even gruffer, more masculine.

He’d seen hell, and then he’d come back. He could have kept running after being released from the police station, but he’d driven directly to the diner, searching for me.

“Why did you come back here?” I whispered, wanting to hear it directly from his lips.

Behind me, I heard Marcia leave the diner, taking the trash to the dumpster. She called out my name, causing me to lean backward and give her a wave. I felt Colt’s hesitation, his fatigue. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he gave me a somber expression.

“Can we go sleep somewhere? I just want to be close to you.”

I nodded, tipping my nose into his.