The ringing phone bore through his sleep. Ryan pulled himself out of his hangover and reached for it. Who’s calling this late? The last fingers of sleep and dreams let him go.

The time blinked at him right above Sarah’s name. It was just past one. He considered not answering, but it was rare that she’d call this late instead of text—especially since he’d moved from breadcrumbing to ghosting her. He rubbed his head and glanced at the US Marshals application he’d completed earlier that night between sips of whiskey.

“Sarah, it’s one in the morning,” he groaned into the phone. “If this is a booty call, I’m not—”

“It’s Poppy,” Sarah said.

He bolted upright on the couch.

“Poppy? What’s wrong? Is she—”

“She’s okay,” Sarah said cautiously. “But you need to come to my place.”

“Sarah, tell me what happened.”

“I can’t… she’s alright, but you just need to come. Now.”

“I’m coming.” He shoved his feet into some boots and grabbed his wallet. As he tore through the night, he ran across every possible scenario. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay. He didn’t know who he was asking, or if this was a prayer, but he willed her to be okay.

“Poppy?” he asked as he tore into Sarah’s apartment. Poppy sat on the couch, her back to him. Sarah had her arms wrapped around her. When Poppy turned, she couldn’t meet his eyes, but she didn’t have to. Half her face was swollen and an angry violet hue.

“That fucking asshole,” Ryan seethed through his teeth. “Your dad,” he said. “It was your dad again—”

“Ryan—”

He gestured for Sarah to be quiet, and Poppy started to weep. “No,” Poppy said through her tears, and she shook her head.

“No? If it wasn’t your dad, then… Will?” He was incredulous. “Was it Will?”

Poppy didn’t nod or say anything, but she looked up and managed to hold his gaze. Her eyes were bright with tears. Ryan sat on the couch behind her, sandwiched her between himself and Sarah, and hugged her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Even then, in that pained moment, she felt so good in his arms. So right. Like he could heal her and protect her from anything. Still, he kept up a barrier. Don’t take it beyond this, no matter how much you both want to.

“It was my fault,” Poppy said quietly.

“I, um, I’ll let you two talk,” Sarah said awkwardly. She slipped on a jacket and went outside.

“What do you mean it was your fault? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said when the door shut behind Sarah.

“No, it was,” she said with a sniff. “Why did I let it go so far with Will? Why didn’t I fight for what I really wanted? Why—”

Fight for what she really wanted? “Poppy, there’s only one person responsible for this. And he’s about to find out what it’s like to be the one to take a beating.”

“Ryan, stop.” Poppy’s eyes were huge as he stood up, and she shook her head vigorously. “Don’t—”

Before she could stop him, he walked out the door and let it slam behind him. “Ryan?” Sarah asked as he walked past, a cigarette poised in her hand. “Where are you going?”

He ignored her and started up the engine. Sarah looked from him back to her apartment, confused.

Will answered the door casually, like somebody knocked on the door in the middle of the night all the time.

“The knight in shining armor. I’ve been expecting you,” Will said with a smug grin. Ryan’s fist pounded through Will’s face smooth and fast. He could feel teeth give. “What the fuck?” Will sputtered through the blood that poured down his neck.

Wildly, Will tried to fight back, to land his own punch, but Ryan easily ducked out of the way. His military training took over.

Ryan hit him again squarely, in the neck. Will hit the floor where he gasped for breath on all fours. “Like the jackal you are,” Ryan said. He kicked him in the stomach which dropped Will all the way down.

Will pushed himself onto his back, and Ryan was on top of him. He couldn’t stop himself and hit him once, twice more. Will wiggled his arms free and held them in front of his face. “Okay, man,” Will said through gasps. “You win. Okay?”

“It’s not okay,” Ryan said. Will looked up at him through busted glasses and what seemed like buckets of blood. He was broken, finished. Ryan could see that, and he stood up slowly. His hands ached and were covered in the warm slickness of Will’s blood. You’ve done what you need to. No more.

“You have three minutes to get out. For good,” Ryan said. “Get your shit, and get out.”

Will scrambled like mad and gathered up his things. Ryan surveyed the room and breathed in. Poppy’s scent filled his lungs. He noticed the ring on the table, but Will didn’t even glance at it. Instead, he cradled his precious laptop bag in his arms like a child.

As Will moved toward the door, cowed down with his head heavy, Ryan blocked the doorway with his arm. Will stopped, dutiful, and braced himself for another hit. “The keys,” Ryan said.

Will paused, and perhaps he even considered a lie. After a moment, he dug into his pocket and dropped Poppy’s apartment keys in Ryan’s hand.

Ryan followed him all the way to his car. On the landing below them, he saw the neighbor’s curtains flutter. He supervised Will as the laptop bag was placed in the back seat. When Will got into the driver seat, the window was already down, and he somehow knew not to start the engine just yet.

Ryan leaned down and rested his forearms on the door. “I don’t ever want to see you again,” he said.

Will nodded, but didn’t speak. “If I see your face again, or if Poppy sees or hears anything from you, you’re finished.”

Will nodded again and blinked hard.

“And I don’t mean,” Ryan said slowly, “that I’m just going to beat your pussy ass again. That would be too easy.”

Will stopped breathing, but didn’t dare look at Ryan.

“And don’t think about doing something stupid. Like call the police and say you got slapped around a little. That’s what you were thinking, right?”

Will didn’t respond, but his thoughts were written across his face.

Ryan laughed. “You’re unbelievable! You don’t think all those bruises on Poppy’s face have been documented? That there aren’t already photos? Tell the police, and all it would take is them seeing one of those photos and you’d be done for.”

Will’s eyes grew big. He hadn’t even considered that. What a moron. “But me?” Ryan said as he stretched his neck from side to side. “I’m not a big fan of the police. Not when things can be settled without their interference. You know? I said, did you know?”

“No,” Will said quietly. His voice shook, like a little boy’s.

“I figured as much. You’re kind of stupid,” Ryan said. “But just so you know, if Poppy or I do hear from you again? Or if you call the police? You know what will happen?”

Will was quiet.

“I said, do you know what will happen?”

Will shook his head.

“I’ll find you. And I’ll kill you.”

Will sucked in his breath.

“Trust me, I have nothing better to live for than to make sure Poppy is free of you.”

“I get it,” Will said. “I get it.”

“Good. Run along now,” Ryan said.

He watched the car until the taillights disappeared down the street. Leaves crackled behind him, and he turned. The neighbor who’d caught him waiting for Poppy, the one whose curtains fluttered, was wrapped in a robe with her arms crossed over her ample chest. “You did good,” she said.

“I don’t know,” Ryan said.

“I do,” she said. Her hair was wrapped and she kicked at the concrete in pink fuzzy slippers. “Been watching that boy stalk that poor girl like she was some obstinate child for years. Couldn’t do nothin’ myself, of course. But it’s good he’s gone. You did her right.”

“I hope so,” Ryan said.

She put her hand on his arm. It was smaller and softer than he expected. “Don’t doubt yourself,” she said. “We all need some protecting sometimes. That poor girl… killing herself with her work. Lonely as hell, I could tell. I shoulda—I shoulda reached out to her.”

Ryan looked at her sadly. “If anyone should have seen more, done more, it was me,” he said. “I left her. After all those years we had, I just left her.”

“Loneliness. Ain’t it somethin’.”

They walked back up the stairs together. The woman took his hand and squeezed it at her door.

Ryan continued up the stairs to clean up any traces of blood—and Will's presence. As he poured hydrogen peroxide on the splatters on the carpet, he drank in every piece of Poppy the room carried. Her favorite gray, wool jacket that hung on the hook. The aroma of sweet cream from her favorite lotion that lingered in the air. She’d used the same one since they were teenagers.

He rinsed the rag and dropped it in the washing machine. As he locked up with Will’s old key, he couldn’t help but think, This might be the last time I’m here. Remember it all, every detail. This is Poppy’s home.