I had to push all this away, my mind drifting to dangerous places as I sat by the window. Dusk and hunger were both setting in. I went to the kitchen, thinking that I’d have dinner ready whenever they got back. How domestic of me.

The pasta still had five minutes to cook when I heard car doors slamming outside. Panic came first; it might not be Rev and Trick. It might be them. Whoever was after me. I could hear voices, and even through the walls I recognized Rev’s. And damn if there wasn’t a little flutter in my stomach when I did. I went to the front door, but something compelled me not to open it yet. Instead, I looked out the long, thin window that ran parallel to the door. Purrloin snaked herself around my legs. She was probably hungry, too.

Outside, Rev and his brother stood face-to-face. Trick pointed to his bike. Rev didn’t say anything. Trick’s mouth moved, but the words were too muffled for me to hear. Rev nodded, said something, and looked at the house. My heart jolted and I sprang back from the window. I told myself I wasn’t spying, since they were just standing outside and it wasn’t exactly the most private of places.

I was wondering what was so interesting they decided to discuss it in the growing darkness. Trick’s hands moved in a gesture I couldn’t read. Rev kicked a clod of dirt from the ground, nodding along. And then Trick stuck his hand out. Rev looked at it for a minute, took it, and then yanked his brother into an awkward, one-armed hug. They parted quickly and Rev turned around, heading towards the front door. I pranced away from it, nearly tripping over Purrloin’s slinking body. I made it into the kitchen before he opened the door. A second later, I heard a motorcycle start.

“Hey,” Rev’s voice filled the kitchen. I tried very hard to pretend like I hadn’t seen what I’d just seen. I stood at the stove, stirring the pasta with shaking hands and a rapidly beating heart.

“Hey,” I said, not trusting myself to turn around yet. “How’d it go?”

“Fine. I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore. He’s through the worst of it.”

“Good,” I said. And finally looked over my shoulder. I wanted to ask were Trick was. But would I be asking that if I hadn’t just seen them say goodbye?

“I heard Trick’s bike,” I said, feeling that was safe. Rev gave me a crooked grin.

“Yeah, and you saw the only moment of brotherly love we’ve shared since I was 14,” he said. My cheeks flamed up.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know what you were doing out there and…”

“It’s fine,” Rev said.

I busied myself with draining the pasta, waiting for him to fill me in with the details. He didn’t seem very eager to do so.

“So, he’s gone?’ I replied, finally, stepping away from the rising steam. “What about his stuff? Where’s he going?”

“What stuff?” Rev said, gesturing to the door leading from the kitchen to the living room. I glanced at Trick’s couch-bed, and saw what Rev meant. He really didn’t have anything worth taking. Just sweat-stained shirts and one pair of dirty jeans.

“Right,” I said. “Where’s he going, though?”

“I don’t know.”

Rev didn’t elaborate further. He just stared at a wall like I wasn’t even in the room. I didn’t really understand. A few days ago he was ready to kick his brother out on his ass, and now he was acting like he’d just been punched in the gut…

“Well, I’m glad it worked out for him,” I offered. Whatever was said between them, whatever happened, whatever was still happening in Rev’s cold and unknowable heart…it was none of my business. If he ever wanted to share it, he could. But I wasn’t going to press him. “Hungry?”

“No,” Rev replied quietly. He was upset about his brother. That was all. Right? That’s what I kept telling myself. And what did I care if he was acting weird?

But he hadn’t touched me yet. That, more than anything, felt wrong. Rev could barely enter a room I was in without making some kind of physical contact. Now, he couldn’t even look at me. And he didn’t even want to help his brother in the first place, so what was so bad about Trick leaving?

“Is something wrong?” I asked, hating myself for asking it. That was the kind of question girlfriends ask. One minute I was vowing not to press him, the next minute I was offering a shoulder he didn’t want to cry on.

“I solved one problem, but I’m in deep shit. Still gotta deal with you.”

I knew what he meant. Trust me, I knew. But nothing could stop me from taking it the wrong way, and making a big deal about it. Sometimes you beat the stereotype, and sometimes the stereotype beats you.

“What does that mean? Since when am I something to deal with?”

“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “You know what I meant.”

Yes, yes I did. If he’d left it at that, things might have gone differently.

“But to answer your question, you’ve been something to deal with ever since you signed your name on the visitor’s chart at Guvcheck, and dumped Daddy’s little nightmare on my lap.”

The pasta was getting cold in the colander. If I picked it up, the heat of my anger would fix that problem. He looked me right in the eye, daring me to take his bait. I didn’t know why he wanted to fight me. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. But I did know that I wasn’t taking it. Not from him. Not now. Not ever.

“All I ever asked you to do was talk to me,” I seethed. “It was your idea to get involved. And you know what? If you don’t want to deal with it anymore, then don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“If you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen wearing clothes I gave you. If you could take care of yourself, I wouldn’t have a bullet wound on my bicep. Take care of yourself? You can’t even take care of a cat. If it weren’t for me, that furball of yours would be shitting in the great big litterbox in the sky.”

Oh no.

“Keys,” I said. “Give me the keys.”

“Where are you gonna go? Back to the Bend? They’ll have you buried in an hour.”

“Keys, Rev.”

He got up, slamming his fist on the table. The way he was looking at me, it was like I’d stabbed him. That angry, painful rage you feel when someone you trust betrays you. But I never betrayed his macho ass. So what the fuck was happening?

“I promised a lot of people I’d keep you safe,” he growled. “I plan on keeping my promise. But I’m done playing house with you. It was fun for a while, dollface. You’re one hell of a distraction. But let’s face it. You only need me until this is over, and I don’t need you at all. Once we fix this mess you’re in, you go right and I go left. From now until then, we’re going back to the way it should be. Understand?”

No, I didn’t get it. I didn’t care how torn up Rev was over his brother. His brother might be dead if I hadn’t convinced him to help. Whatever was bothering him, whatever hell was happening in his brain, he wasn’t going to take it out on me.

“In that case, you’re fucking fired,” I said. “Give me the keys so we can end this.”

I wasn’t going to cry. I didn’t want to cry. But shit, I was going to cry. Fat, hot, angry tears. Tears of rage, followed by tears of shame, because I let him see me cry. He watched me, shaking, with my hand out, every ounce of anger in my heart reflected on his face. One salty drop made its way down my cheek.

And like watching a train crash, I watched something inside him shatter. I can’t tell you what it was like. You have to see something like it yourself. There aren’t words for this sort of thing.

I let my hand drop, arm limp at my side. The tears were coming faster now, but I didn’t sob along with them. Didn’t make a noise. Just watched him be swallowed by regret, the way an antelope is swallowed by a python. He wanted to come to me, to touch me, to make me stop crying. He wanted that - but he knew he couldn’t do it. He made one jerky motion, arms and legs both coming forward, a single step in my direction, and then he just went limp.

“No,” he said. “You stay here. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to town. We need to split up for a while. You need to stay here, Misty. I can’t let anything happen to you…”

His voice caught, and he looked away, trying to pull himself back into that macho rage that fueled this whole disaster. I’d never been able to read anyone as well as I read him that night. It was like opening a book; I didn’t have to think about understanding the words on the page. I just did.

“I’m not letting you die because I fucked this up,” he finally said. “Stay here until it’s over. I’ll finish it without you. Send someone up here to make sure you’re safe, and finish it down at the Bend. And that’ll be it.”

I couldn’t say anything. Even though this big awful part of me wanted to forgive him right away and say he should stay and that we needed to do this together because we worked so well together and dammit I wanted to be together with him…

But then I saw it. I could see it in his eyes as clear as day. There was a reason he was acting like this, and it had nothing to do with Trick or his bullshit.

“What happened Rev? What the hell are you keeping from me?” I said, finally cutting the silence between us. “What did Trick say to you out there?”

“He got a phone call from my parole officer, Misty. I’m going back to jail.”

“Your parole officer?” I replied, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. “What the hell is going on?”

“Some prostitute says I roughed her up. She’s lying through her teeth, but the cops won’t give two shits about that. When you’re on parole, you’re guilty until proven fucking innocent,” he said with anger flaring in his voice.

“Why would somebody do this?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

“I’m being taken out of the game Misty. The people coming after you know what they’re doing. I knocked on one too many doors and asked too many questions. They’re gonna have me locked up and I’ll be lucky if I’m out in ten fucking years. If I go away, I can’t keep my promises. I can’t keep you safe. I’m sorry Misty...”

I’d never once heard Rev apologize for anything.

I couldn’t stop myself from playing back his words in my head over and over again. I stared right through him as his voice echoed.

I’m sorry.