We run from the road and dart to the tree line while flashing red and blue lights follow close behind. I chuck the red spray paint over my shoulder as he takes my hand and pulls me behind him. Both of us are out of breath from laughing and running so fast, adrenaline coursing through our veins. Running from the cops always makes me feel alive.

It’s not like I killed someone, I just made our town’s sign a little more entertaining. I hear Barney yell behind us. “Murphy, Grant, I know that’s you. Hands in the air!”

We spur ourselves on, picking up speed. We run as far as our legs will carry us. Suddenly, Striker stops and holds his finger to his lips. We both freeze and listen, our ears detecting nothing but silence.

He gave up.

I let out a giggle and Striker picks me up, spinning me in the air. Our eyes lock and something is exchanged between the two of us.

We had just shared our first “real” kiss. Not a “try it out” kiss like when we were kids, but a kiss that was wanted by the both of us, not just me. I have been waiting years for this night. Waiting for him to want to kiss me.

He places one hand on the tree trunk and slowly backs me up against it. He’s still holding me, my legs are wrapped around him and I can feel his hardness.

His eyes watch mine intensely and his jaw flexes. Our breathing is labored from running, but it only makes the situation that much more erotic.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Do you know that?” He brushes a fallen hair away from my face.

A flush of red paints my cheeks, and my eyes look everywhere but at him.

He places his fingers under my chin and lifts until I’m forced to look at him. “I mean it, Lex. You’re wild and free. You have something nobody else has.”

“What’s that?”

“You have me. I love you. I’ve loved you since I heard you laugh at me for getting in trouble when we were twelve-years-old.” His lips crash into mine and I hold on around his neck for dear life.

“I fucking love you, Lex.”

My eyes flutter open from that dream. I look around me and, for a minute, forget where I am. Then I look around and realize I’m not alone in bed.

It’s Striker.

My heart slams in my chest and my breathing picks up.

What have I done? I slept with Striker.

No, no, no. What have I done? Why did I do that? Why did he allow it? He knew I was using him but he allowed it anyway. Why?

Fear paralyzes me as I sit still, watching him sleep. His bare back is uncovered by the sheets, and he looks so innocent lying there oblivious to the waking world. For once, he’s at ease. Striker is never at ease. He’s always wound tight, always brooding and serious. Not now.

This realization strengthens the panic building inside of me.

I slide out from bed and grab my clothes, quietly stepping out of his room. In the living room, I quickly get dressed before running out the front door. If he woke, he never made a move to stop me, and I’m thankful for that.

I can’t handle this right now.

The bright green digits of the clock on my car stereo tell me it’s still early. Early enough, I hope, to slip undetected into my mother’s house. I pray to be so lucky, because I sure as hell can’t imagine explaining this to her. Not only did I skip out of my sister’s engagement party early, but I snubbed her guy and ran off with Striker, the guy she’s always hated.

She thinks he is the reason I turned against her, but truthfully, she brought that on herself by trying to manipulate and control my entire life. My sister may have given into her, but she doesn’t have the fight and the drive that I have. It’s my life and I will live it how I want. Not how she wants. Not how Striker wants. Only me.

* * *

When I walk into the house, I’m prepared for the walk of shame and the argument that’s sure to come. I don’t bother being quiet, since I assume I’ve already been caught. I stand in the foyer and look around, waiting for it.

But it doesn’t come. I shrug it off and head for the stairs. Safely in my room, I lean my back against the door and feel my eyes start to burn.

How could I have done that? I can’t get mixed back up with Striker. I can’t do it again. My family won’t survive it. I would rather vanish quietly into the night, never to be seen again, and know that they are happy than to have Striker in my life and know that my relationship broke up a forty-year marriage.

I push off the door and collapse in bed, curling into a ball and taking a few moments to feel sorry for myself.

This is it, Alex. The only time you get to do this, I tell myself. Cry it out, get it all out because you have to be stronger than this. When you walk out that door, it ends. Your guard goes back up. You have to hold your head high and take back your ‘fuck off’ attitude.

Alone in my room, far from anyone’s prying eyes, I let myself feel it. All of it. Every single pent-up ounce of fear, anxiety and raw, indecipherable emotion hits me at once and damn-near cripples me, leaving my muscles weak and shortening my breath to shallow gasps.

An army of tears is building behind my eyes and I am losing the fight to hold them at bay. My chest hurts from trying to contain it. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak, and I refuse to allow myself to feel weak. That part of my life is over. I have the control now.

A trickle of tears begins to slip from the corner of my eyes, accompanied by the feeling of a sob starting deep inside my chest, but my sorrowful reverie is interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. I sit up and wipe my eyes in a half-assed attempt to cover up my crying, but know my inner turmoil is still clearly visible on my face.

My sister pops her head in. “Can I sit down?”

I wave her in, but don’t trust myself to talk.

“Why are you crying?”

I wipe my eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

“You don’t always have to be so strong, you know.” She brushes her hair away from her perfectly painted face.

Compared to her, I’m a fucking mess.

“I noticed you didn’t come home last night.”

My head pops up. “Oh, I stayed with Gemma.”

She gives me a knowing smile. “Really? I saw Striker at the dinner last night, and saw the little exchange he had with that guy Mom was trying to set you up with.”

An awkward laugh escapes me. “You saw that?”

Her smile widens. “Uh-huh. He is one sexy guy.” Her eyes glaze over and a dreamy look covers her face.

I lightly smack her arm. “You are an engaged woman now.”

She shrugs. “So? I can still look. I don’t know why you try staying away from him. Anyone can look at the two of you and see how much you love each other.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Mom would have a fit.” I can’t tell her the real reason.

“I’ve always been so jealous of you. Did you know that?”

I scoff. “You, jealous of me? What’s wrong with you?”

She seems taken back. “Are you kidding me? You live your life the way you want. You don’t let people push you around. You don’t let Mom push you around. You don’t have to answer to anyone. You’re free. You’re strong. Not anything like me. I haven’t gotten to make a decision since…” She stops and thinks. “I don’t know, ever?”

I sit up a little straighter and study her.

“I’m serious. Mom is the one planning my wedding. She picked out my dress and she’s the one who introduced me to Richard to begin with. My whole life, I’ve lived for her.”

Sadness settles over me. “I’ve been disowned. Do you want that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I do.”

“Trust me, you don’t. It’s lonely. You have no family, no one to talk to. You start from scratch. It’s not the place to be.” I stand and walk across the room, needing distance. I lean against the dresser and cross my arms.

“Then why do you do it?”

My eyes fall to the fluffy white carpet and I shrug again. “It’s just who I am. If I can’t be true to myself, who am I really?”

She stands and walks up to me, gently laying a hand on my shoulder and looking me square in the eye. “And that is why I’ve always been jealous of you. You’re just you. You don’t give in. You know what you want and you take it. You’re always so sure, and you aren’t afraid of anything.” She hugs me close.

If she only knew.

Hesitantly, I return her embrace until she pulls back and wipes her own tears away. “I should probably get ready for brunch. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

I nod a confirmation and she heads out.

Steph’s words echo through my head while I shower. Is she right?

She said I was strong. Am I strong? I’ve never considered myself strong.

Am I making a mistake with Striker? Was last night a good thing or a bad thing?

The confusing cocktail of emotions starts to bring on a headache, so I force it all out of my mind as I finish getting ready for brunch. I am left with a few free minutes before heading downstairs, so I occupy myself by packing my bags. After brunch, I’m leaving. I’m going back home.

* * *

The brunch is being held at the country club again, and I take my seat at the breakfast table with my parents, sister, her soon-to-be husband, and his parents. Everyone seems so happy. They all smile and talk about the dinner and the upcoming wedding, and my mother even mentions planning their honeymoon.

I politely brood in the corner, only speaking when spoken to. I’m lost right now. I feel like I’m being pulled every which way, and I can’t make up my mind.

And despite it all, I feel numb. No stress, no anxiety, no anger, no sadness. Just numb and callused.

My skin feels tougher, as if any unjust words from my parents will simply bounce off of me without any affect. I’m wearing my suit of armor and it feels strong today. Knowing that their words can’t harm me brings me a small measure of inner peace.

I sit and pick at the lint on the white table cloth. I drink my orange juice out of a flute and poke at my fruit with my fork. I never meet their eyes and they never include me in their conversation.

When Dad pays the check, a surge of energy and relief bursts through me, and I’m ready to hit the road.

Should I tell Striker goodbye?

I know I should, but I can’t.

My mother gives me a cold goodbye and my dad and sister offer me a hug before I leave them sitting at the table to say goodbye to their guests.

When I reach the exit, my feet double in speed, trying to get to my car as quickly as possible. I’m digging through my purse looking for my keys, but when my head pops up, I see Striker’s bike parked next to my car with him casually leaning against it.

Good thing that armor is still in place.

When his eyes lock on me, his jaw sets and I can see the heat burning behind his eyes. I prepare myself.

I come to a stop directly in front of him, but don’t speak. Neither does he, he just studies me.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he stands up straight. His eyes flash to my packed bag in the back seat of my car. “So what, you were just going to sneak out of my bed this morning and take off back to wherever in the hell you’ve been hiding all these years? You weren’t even going to tell me goodbye, were you?”

“I was,” I lie. I wasn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He watches me and lets out a breath of air. “No, you weren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me,” he says, pointing at his chest.

I rub my forehead. “What do you want from me, Striker? We slept together, so what? It was a mistake and we both know it.”

His chest is rising and falling quickly. His nostrils flare and his eyes burn with anger. “A mistake? That’s what you’re telling yourself?” He scoffs and turns to walk away from me, but then turns back. “No, you know what? Fuck it. If this is it, I’m just going to say it and you’re going to listen. I don’t care how much it scares you.”

I square my shoulders, ready for his blows.

“Last night meant something to both of us and you fucking know it.” He points at me. “You love me, you’re just too goddamn scared to do anything about it. What happened to the old Lex? Huh? You remember her? The Lex that wasn’t afraid of anything. The Lex that did what she wanted, everybody else be damned. The Lex that loved me, and loved me fiercely. A love so fucking strong that nobody will ever fucking compare. What happened to her?”

He is standing so close I can smell him. I could reach out and touch him, but I don’t. I feel myself begin to crumble as a large brick wiggles loose from my walls and starts to plummet to the ground, but I catch it just in time. Mentally, I pick up that piece and stuff it back into its place in the wall that has been threatening to come crashing down since I drove back into this town.

I raise my chin and take a breath. “That was a long time ago. She’s gone. All that’s left now is me, and I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.” I turn away, but he catches me by the arm and spins me around, pinning me against the side of my car.

“You think that last night was nothing? You feel nothing?” His breath blows hot against my face.

Something catches his attention and he turns to look at the entrance of the club, but doesn’t move. My eyes follow his to see my mother and father standing there, watching us. She covers her mouth in shock while my dad stands still with his hands in his pockets, looking angry.

He turns back to me. “See if you feel anything this time.” His lips crash into mine and his tongue dives inside. He gives so much more than he takes with this kiss. He presses himself against me while he holds me to him. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.

His lips glide against mine and I feel my body erupt in tingles. Every hair stands on end and almost vibrates. My stomach tightens as my body is engulfed in flames. I become oblivious to my watching parents, and to the fact that my dad may very well be angrily walking over here right now to shove Striker off of me. I feel everything he has to give me.

My wall shakes. It starts to crumble and just as it explodes and bares all of me, he pulls away and looks into my eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” He turns and hops on his bike. The loud sound of the engine starting suddenly cuts right through me. He revs the engine as one last ‘fuck you’ to my parents and then drives away without a look back.

I’m left frozen in place. What just happened? How did he do that? This isn’t me, my wall was up. It was fucking up and he just came and knocked right through it with ease.

I turn to look at my parents, but they are no longer there.

I rush to the driver’s seat and drive away as quickly as I can.

Tears sting my eyes, but I force my eyelids to stay open so the fresh breeze blowing in through the window can airdry them before they get a chance to fall.

Fuck him. Why would he do this to me? Doesn’t he realize what could happen? Of course he doesn’t, because I never told him. I couldn’t tell him. I’ve kept this secret so long that giving it up would be like losing a piece of me.

It’s mine. It’s mine to let sit inside of me, eating at me, being a constant reminder of how fucked up my life is. It’s my deepest and darkest secret and the fucked-up part is, it’s not even my secret. Not really. Well, okay, I guess a little piece of it is, but the threat, that wasn’t on me. That was the small piece of information that could destroy my family.

“Stay away from my son or I’ll make sure they all know. Wouldn’t that be the talk of the town?” He shoots me a cocky grin that highlights his double chin. “Everyone will be talking about how the hotshot lawyer that runs this town fucked up. I bet Mommy-Dearest will love that. Tell me, how well will she take it when she knows she’s the talk of the town? Do you think she will leave your dad? If she does, where will you end up?” He laughs again, knowing he’s getting to me.

That memory is so vivid and burned into my mind that, instead of seeing the road through the windshield, I watch the mental imagery unfold over the dashboard. My mind is jerked back to reality by the sound of my tires making contact with the rumble strip on the edge of the highway, and I jerk the wheel back into my lane. My heart is pounding and my chest hurts, my breathing quick and shallow.

An exit is visible. I’ve only made it one town over, but I take the opportunity to get off the highway to calm down and catch my breath.

I pull into the closest gas station and throw the car into park. I slide my seat back as far as it will go and lean over with my head between my knees.

I slowly count backwards.

Ten. Breathe, calm down.

Nine. Breathe in, breathe out.

Eight. Calm your racing heart.

Seven. Stop thinking, just count.

Six. Get control, build your wall.

Five. I see those bricks going back into place.

Four. The wall is halfway up. My breathing slows and becomes deeper.

Three. Keep going, your heart is returning to normal.

Two. Almost there. Keep breathing slowly, deeply.

One. That’s it. I can do this.

One last long breath clears the fog and I sit up slowly. I close my eyes and breathe, not thinking about Striker, the kiss, last night, his dad, or my parents. I stop it all.

I slide my seat forward and put the car in drive, anxious to get back on the highway and leave that town behind me.