Aubrey’s coffee warms my hands while I sit on her shop stoop, waiting for her to show up Monday morning. Across the street, Dumb Name and Will watch, making pussy-whipping gestures that have me shaking my head. Pre-Aubrey, I would’ve done the same. Pre-Aubrey, there’s no way I’d be in a situation that would have my so-called friends making those gestures.

Aubrey appears, on her bike, the end of that orange scarf from last Monday flowing behind her. She’s half-peddling, half-wobbling, because the rear tire is busted. I stand when she comes to a stop, hops off the bike, and removes her helmet. It reminds me of the time she spent on the four-wheeler—when this all began. Her cheeks are red, wind burned, and she bites down on her lip when she sees me. “Hey,” she says, her voice as warm as the coffee I’m holding. She locks her bike to the street lamp, as if someone’s actually going to steal it. Then, in the following order, she:

Takes her bag from the handlebar basket, straps it across her chest.

Adjusts her jacket.

Pulls up her leggings.

Adjusts her skirt.

Then her hair.

And I watch, completely transfixed by her every move. “That was possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” I tell her, handing her the coffee.

She rolls her eyes as she takes it from me. “Thank you, you pervert.”

I chuckle under my breath, while she yawns the longest yawn in the history of the world. “Late night?” I ask, hands in pockets.

“Sleepless, more like it.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighs out. “I just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She pats my arm. “I’ll see you later?”

Nodding, I wait until her door’s open and the lights are on before turning on my heels. Now Dumb Name and Will are pretending to go at it doggy style, tongues out wagging, and I’m so focused on getting to them so I can tell them to get back to work, that I don’t even see the car coming until I’ve stepped onto the road. Luckily, the driver, a guy around my age in a polo with the collar up, stops just in time. I hold up my hand, say, “Sorry,” instead of what I really want to say: that it isn’t 2001 and we’re not in a fucking Usher music video.

The guy rolls his eyes, motions for me to cross, and it takes all the power in me not to give him the finger, because fuck him and his stupid green BMW convertible, top down, and fuck his stupid clothes and preppy, rich boy bullshit. I take a calming breath and cross the road slower than Old Lady Laura. Just as I step on the sidewalk, there’s the sound of glass breaking, and then an ear-piercing scream and tires screeching. My eyes immediately go to Aubrey. To her standing just inside her shop, her hands covering her head. Shattered glass surrounds her feet, and I’m running back across the road, shouting over my shoulder. I don’t know what I say, but the words cops and chase are in there, and the next thing I know, my arms are around her and she’s shaking, her eyes wide, distant. “Breathe, Red,” I say, but she won’t stop shaking, and now there are tears—tears I’m quick to wipe away. “Are you hurt?” I pull away so I can check for blood, her head, her hands, her entire body. There’s no sign of blood, only scarlet, and I hold her again, say, “You’re okay.”

“I called the cops,” Dumb Name says, and I nod at him while Aubrey looks up at me, then outside, where a group of people have started forming, taking pictures on their phones. Will makes his way through them, struggling for air, and checks on Aubrey like I just did. When he sees she’s unharmed, he turns to me, sweat dripping from his forehead. “I couldn’t catch him. Honestly, I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Dumb Name picks up a brick from the floor—the weapon—and removes the note attached with an elastic band. He doesn’t unfold it before handing it to me. I release her so I can read it:

Pathetic Pussy.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumble, my hands trembling with anger. Rage.

“Carter,” she whispers, and she’s nothing but tears and torment and fuck this guy.

“Where does he live, Aubrey?”

“Logan, don’t.”

“His address, Red. I’m not fucking playing.”

“No.”

“He drives a BMW, doesn’t he?” I should’ve beaten his ass when I had the chance.

Her eyes drift shut, and when they open, they’re wider, clearer. She takes the note from my hands, scrunches it in hers. “Leave it alone, Logan.” She looks behind me, to the nosy gossipers, then up to my eyes, her gaze pleading, her voice a whisper, “Make them leave.”

“Are you okay?” Lucy cuts in, her hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “I heard the commotion, but holy shit…”

Aubrey doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Please, make them leave.”

“Who?” Lucy asks. “Them?” I don’t know who she’s referring to because I can’t pull my stare away from green and agonizing. Lucy yells, “Don’t you all have better shit to do? Go home and finger your buttholes or something! Shoo! Shoo! Go on! Get!”

* * *

Lucy cleans up the glass.

Dumb Name and Will go back to work.

Aubrey sits in the chair by her counter.

I squat in front of her, my hands on her knees.

If ever there was a time I could find it in me to hold someone’s hand, this would be it.

I don’t hold Aubrey’s hand.

We wait in silence for the cops to show.

A text comes through on my phone:

I look up at Aubrey, but she’s still staring ahead, lost.

I shove the phone in my pocket, squeeze Aubrey’s leg. “I’ll be back.”

She doesn’t respond.

I tell Luce to keep an eye on her.

Then I step out on the sidewalk, lean against the lamp post where Aubrey’s bike is chained. I shove my hands in my pockets, and I wait.

No more than two minute later, Dumb Name whistles from across the street, motions to the west side of Main Street.

Motherfucker does have a death wish.

I send Dumb Name a text as I step on the road: Don’t get involved. Then I stop in front of the car again, this time on purpose. “Going somewhere?”

“Fuck out of my way, asshole.”

Dumb Name and Will don’t listen; they’re by my side before I can respond.

“What?” Carter says, smirking. “Which one of you is she screwing?”

My fists ball. “Get out of the fucking car and say that.”

“Make me, dickhead.”

I round the car and lift him out by his stupid collar. He tries to fight me, but I’m bigger, stronger, and right now, I’m calmer than a Friday night with Mary. Because my mind’s clear, and I want this guy to pay, want to him to suffer.

For all things scarlet.

I slam his back against his hood, get in his face. There are so many words, too many, and none of them make it out of my mouth before someone’s pulling on my arm, telling me to stop. Aubrey. And because of her, and only her, I release the fucker, let him come to a stand. But I won’t let him leave. No fucking way.

He laughs, looks Aubrey up and down while shaking his head. “You gone blue collar on me, Aubs?”

Dumb Name’s next to me. “You don’t take him out, I will.”

“Just get out of here, Carter,” Aubrey says, arms crossed, voice low. She doesn’t look at him.

“You can’t be mad about this, Aubs. I mean, you keyed Pathetic Dick across all four panels. Do you know how much that cost my dad to fix?”

Lucy cackles with laughter, and if I didn’t know her, I’d tell her to shut up. “Pathetic Dick?” she laughs out. “Oh man, those C’s would’ve been tough. I’d question why it was pathetic, but then… your car… and you… makes total sense.”

Carter glares at her. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t talk to her,” I grind out.

Carter’s eyes move from me, to Lucy, to Aubrey. He says to her, smirking, “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in this hillbilly town, but if you left home to get away from me, and now you’re seeing this guy, you may as well have stayed. Let me cheat on you some more.”

Aubrey’s face pales, her eyes going directly to his.

“Oh, what?” he chastises. “You didn’t know? Yeah, I cheated on you the entire time.”

I step forward.

Will stops me.

Carter keeps fucking talking, “It was impossible not to. I mean, look at me and look at you. You’re the pathetic one here, Aubs. No matter how badly I treated you, you kept coming back for more. You loved me at my worst because I saved my best for everyone—”

“Shut up,” Aubrey snaps. “Just shut up. You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I know about every girl you were ever with. You don’t think I’d hear about it, or worse, have them tell me about it! I knew, Carter!” She cries out, a trail of tears streaking down her cheeks. The street’s filled with people now, watching, waiting, but the world is silent, still, all while the girl who owns a part of me begins to crack, break. “I knew everything,” she says, wiping at her tears. “I just didn’t know why…” Her shoulders shake, and then she shatters, right in front of me, and the calm is no longer there. All I feel is the weight of the water, the ache in my lungs as they barely hold on, my mind telling me to float up, up, up to give my body what it needs: air.

But this time, I stay submerged.

And I let myself drown.

The fabric of the fucker’s shirt tears at my fingers when I push him back down, my ears filling with the sound of his bone crushing against the metal of his hood. His eyes are wide, wild, restless, and I close mine so I don’t have to see his pathetic last-second plea. My fist meets his jaw, then his nose, his chin, his chest.

The world is chaos.

The screams are loud.

My name is the loudest.

Lucy’s screaming for Cameron.

Hands are on my hips, my arms, my chest.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

“Jesus Christ, Preston, you’re going to kill him!”

“Lo! Stop!”

“Logan!”

“Lo!”

“Logan!”

My fist meets metal, over and over, while I hold him down, hear him cough up blood.

Sirens.

Louder and louder.

Car tires screeching to a stop.

More sirens.

And then hands on my shoulders, strong and determined, pulling me away.

“Holy shit.” Lucas.

I can’t stop hitting, fighting, punching my way through the water. I need air. I need to breathe. I need to live.

I’m being lifted off my feet, arms around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides.

“What the fuck happened?” Cameron.

I need to find the surface.

“It’s okay, son.” Dad’s voice is right at my ear. “Just breathe, son. Breathe.”

He leads me to his truck, puts me in the back seat, and slams the door shut.

My world is chaos.

Swirls of water.

Riptides of emotion.

My hand is busted.

And my heart… my heart is looking at me from the other side of the window wondering who the fuck I am and how the fuck she got here.

I close my eyes, tap at my empty pockets. Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

The world is a blur, and I am the core, the axis.

Mr. Preston locks Logan away in his car and makes his way back to us. He asks Carter if he’s okay. Blood spills from Carter’s mouth, making it impossible to comprehend his answer.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

Carter shakes his head.

Two uniformed officers get out of their vehicle and meet up with a woman who has a police badge attached to her belt. They speak for a few minutes before approaching us. “What happened, Tom?” the woman asks.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Preston says. “I just got here.” He has one hand on his hip, the other wiping his mouth. His eyes are filled with worry, and he looks over his shoulder to Logan—whose eyes are closed, head tilted back. Mr. Preston sighs, looks at the thick crowd around us.

The crowd, too, is a blur.

And I am the focus.

“Did anyone see anything?” Mr. Preston shouts.

He may as well be a drill sergeant with the numerous returns of “No, sir!”

“This is bullshit,” Carter says. “I want that guy arrested!”

“Carter, you threw a brick through my window,” I rush out, because right now, my focus is on Logan and Logan alone, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to him because of me. I turn to the woman while pointing at Carter. “I want him arrested.”

Tom sighs, then asks the crowd, “Did anyone see him throw the damn brick?”

Logan’s workmates step forward. “Yes, sir. We saw it.”

“Bullshit!” Carter snaps. “They didn’t see shit!”

Lucy speaks up, “The security camera outside my store caught him doing it.”

“It did?” asks the woman.

“Yes.” Lucy nods. “It cut out right after, so without eyewitnesses, there’s no real proof of what happens next.”

Lucas Preston—a guy I’ve only ever seen in pictures—who’s stood next to Mr. Preston the entire time, not saying a word, steps to Carter. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but here’s my card,” he says, giving him a business card. “Just email the medical bills and whatever for your car. Attention it to Lucas. But right now, you need to get the fuck out of here, and don’t come back, man, because I can guarantee, you ever try again to pull whatever shit you pulled today, my brother’s not going to go so easy on you. And next time, we might not be around to stop him.”

Dad doesn’t say a word on the ride to the hospital. A couple busted knuckles, maybe some stitches from hitting the metal, but it’s all shit that’ll heal in time. It’s definitely not broken, I know that much. But going by the look on Dad’s face, I know he’s not going to want to hear it.

Dad walks in with me through the emergency room doors, waits until I’ve given all the details to the woman behind the nurses’ station. Then he says, “You don’t come home until it’s looked at. I’m going back to work.”

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“You have legs,” he says, and I know it’s only part of my punishment.

I sit in the stupid waiting room for a good two hours, alone, before my name’s called. I wait another hour for an X-ray machine to become available. Another hour for the results I already knew were coming. I’m left alone to wait for someone to come back and stitch me up. My phone doesn’t ring. Doesn’t make a sound. A few minutes after the last doctor leaves, the door opens, and it’s Aubrey. “You’re an idiot.”

I exhale loudly. “Save the lecture, okay? I’m going to hear about it enough when I get home. What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“Garray gave me a ride. Nice guy.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should date him. Oh, that’s right. You said maybe you would. How’s that going for you?” I don’t know why I’m so pissed. The entire time I’ve been sitting here, all I wanted was her by my side. But I didn’t want this: her clear disappointment.

“I’m not going to date him, Logan,” she sighs out, stopping a few feet in front of me. She leans against the wall, her hands behind her back, and motions to my lap where my hand sits limp. “How bad is it?”

“They’re coming back to stitch me up.”

She shakes her head. “Why would you—”

“Leave it alone, Red.”

“But… what happened? You told me you weren’t a violent person.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve never witnessed anyone treat you like shit before, so…”

“Logan…” She sighs. Again.

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?” I ask, my eyes on her. “And why are you all the way over there?”

She takes a tiny step forward.

“Red.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

She exhales slowly before moving forward, her legs touching my knees. I brush my thumb against her thigh, rest my forehead on her chest. She smells like fall. Like pumpkin and cinnamon and raindrops. “Are you okay?” I mumble.

“I’m fine. A little embarrassed.”

“Of me?”

“No, Logan,” she says, holding my face in her hands and pulling away so she can see me. “Never of you.”

With a nod, I tug on her legs until she’s standing between mine. “What are we doing here, Red?”

“We’re waiting for you to get stitched up…? Did you hit your head or something?”

My blink is slow, frustration simmering below the surface. “You know what I mean, Red. Can’t we just go back to before? Don’t you want that?”

Her hands slide down my shoulders, my chest, before they disappear completely. Then she steps back, away from my touch, away from me. Her gaze drops. So do her shoulders. She side-eyes the door. Then the floor.

I clear my throat. “I get it, Red. You don’t need to say—”

“Say what?”

“That you don’t want me like that.”

“God,” she says, eyeing the ceiling now. “I wish it were that simple.”

“So, why isn’t it?”

“Because I do want you, Logan. Like that.” Her voice wobbles. “But I’ve done this before. I’ve felt this before. I’ve given up everything because it didn’t work out. You saw how… you saw what happened today—”

“You’re comparing me to him again,” I bite out.

“That’s not it,” she says, stomping her foot like a brat. “I’m comparing me to me again!” She reaches down, her hand near mine.

Please don’t.

My hand twitches, my resistance clear.

She runs her index finger along mine, then to the inside of my wrist, along my palm. She sniffs once, and when I look up, she’s watching me, her eyes filled with tears. I grasp her finger, stop her from going any further. “Why are you crying, Red?”

“Because it hurts,” she whispers, resting her forehead on mine.

I run my nose across hers. “What hurts?”

She sniffs again, and a tear falls, soaks into my cheek, into my skin, into me. She says, her words filled with pain, “I’m leaving, Logan.”

I pull away, eyes wide and on hers. My lips part; so many words, so many questions. I release her finger. The door opens. Big Logan walks in, scrubs from head to toe. “Need me to come back?” he asks.

I shake my head, keep my gaze locked on Aubrey’s. “No,” I say. “She was just leaving.”