Walking into my apartment, I feel like a completely different person. It feels like a year has passed since I’ve last been here. Smoky is passed out on the windowsill, perched above a full food dish which tells me Jeff did as I asked and I now owe him.

Sleeping with Jeff has always been fun, until now. Now I feel a sense of dread about it. Seeing Striker has fucked with my head. It’s like I’m eighteen all over again and just left him for the first time.

My heart feels swollen with love for him, but it’s so full that it’s cracking. An unidentifiable pain lingers in my chest, and it won’t go away no matter what I do.

I look around my quiet apartment. The peace and loneliness used to be something I loved, but now it’s too quiet. I drop my bag on the living room floor and plop down on the couch. I stare at the TV even though it isn’t on.

Why am I feeling like this? We slept together, it meant nothing.

At least, I’m trying to convince myself it meant nothing. If I admit how much it really means, I’m afraid I will do the one thing I’ve always wanted to.

Go to him, confess all my secrets, and hope he takes me back.

I can’t do that though.

It’s not just our relationship on the line, it’s my whole family. My sister will be just as affected by it and she didn’t do anything to deserve this. My mom has never been my favorite, but I still don’t want to hurt her. And my dad, the one who caused this whole mess.

He still doesn’t know that I know, and it’s been so long now that he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

He doesn’t know that Striker’s dad, Ken, knows. He doesn’t know that his bad decision, which happened over 13 years ago, haunts me to this day. He doesn’t know that it’s the reason I ran away, and he doesn’t know that I’ve been living this life without my other half all so he can have his.

He doesn’t know any of that, and if it’s up to me, he never will. No one will. Not even Striker.

Thoughts of my other half make my eyes sting with warm tears. He always has been somewhere deep inside, I always knew it. But admitting it to myself is wreaking havoc on my emotions.

He knew what he was doing all along. His words replay in my head, “You were allowing this so you didn’t have to feel. You were using me as an escape, and that’s not how this is going to go, sweetheart. I’m going to make you feel again, Lex. If it’s the last fucking thing I do, you are going to feel this.”

Well great fucking job, Striker, because now I feel it. I feel it all, the decade of friendship, the years of love, all the trust, lies, and secrets. I feel it all like it just happened yesterday and it’s threatening to crash down on me.

I knock on the door and step inside. “Striker?” I call out.

“He’s not here,” his dad answers from somewhere in the darkened living room.

“Oh, okay.” I turn to leave the house but the light flicks on.

“Wait.”

I turn and study Ken. I can usually tell how drunk he is just by looking at him. His eyes aren’t as bloodshot as they usually are but he has a face of stone, showing no emotion.

“Do you know what my fucking son said to me tonight?”

I shake my head, debating whether or not to sprint out of the house, as far away as possible.

“He told me that you two are out of here as soon as you turn eighteen. Is that right?” His head cocks to the side while his eyes burn into me.

I open my mouth to speak, but words don’t come. He knows. What will he do? Will he try to stop us?

A menacing laugh bubbles up as he stands and slowly walks closer to me. “Fucking Grants. You people think that you can do anything you damn well please just because you have money.”

“I don’t know…” I’m shaking my head but he cuts me off.

“I know you don’t know. He thinks he covered it up, doesn’t he?”

“Who?” Panic is rising in my voice. I reach behind me and place my hand on the latch to the storm door.

“Who? Who!?” he yells. He takes another step closer and the stench of alcohol wafts into my nostrils, even though he is several feet from me. “Your fucking father! The king of the town!” He holds his arms out to his side, like he’s taunting me into some sort of fight.

He takes another step and another, and before I know it, he’s directly in front of me. He looks down on me with his dark eyes. “Your whole family thinks they can take whatever they want. I’m not going to let you have him, you know? He’s my son. Mine!” he yells loud enough to make me cringe. I’m frozen in fear. The storm door latch is still in my hand, but fear freezes me in place. My feet won’t work.

Before I know what is happening, I’m falling backward. The door opens from the outside and I land in Striker’s strong arms. He sees the fear in my eyes and he stands me upright. His eyes flash from me to his father. He wipes my tears away with his thumbs and moves in to place a soft kiss on my lips. “Wait for me in the garage,” he whispers.

I nod, still shell-shocked. He releases me and I walk a few feet away. Before I open the door, I look back to see Striker still standing there, watching me. His chest is rising and falling quickly and his jaw is set. His eyes are burning, he’s pissed off. He nods me on, so I open the door and step inside. I turn and close the door behind me, but I peek through the crack at the last second. I see him run into his house and hear a solid hit. He went after his dad.

I should have listened to him that night. Ken was pissed, but if I had only remained calm instead of being a scared little girl, I could have picked up on a lot more. It was still another year before I discovered what secret Ken knew about my dad.

At the time, I didn’t want to hear it, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t ask the right questions and didn’t care to not know. I know that if he would have shared the secret with me on that night, I would have made all the wrong choices.

I would have told Striker, he would have blamed me and he would hate me. I would have confronted my dad, and who knows what would’ve come out of that. My mom could have overheard, and the secret would’ve ended our family.

I didn’t have Striker, but at least my family still had one another.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I pick up my phone and call Hannah.

Hannah became my first friend when I moved away from home. During the course of submitting applications all around town, I walked into her store and asked if she was hiring. Her dark eyes were transparent to the feelings held behind them, and I could see a flood of sadness and anxiety barely restrained as she told me the store was about to close. My heart longed to connect with her and help somehow, and we ended up talking for hours. The next day, we went to the bank where I bought the building with my college money. It saved her store and I was made co-owner. We’ve been best friends ever since and haven’t looked back.

“Hello?” she answers.

“I’m back in town, up for a drink?”

“Hell yeah, I’m closing up now. Meet me at the bar around the corner?”

“I’ll be there.” I hang up and grab my purse.

Smoky doesn’t move, but I rub his head on my way out.

Ten minutes later, I walk into the bar where Hannah is already sitting at a pub-style table with two drinks.

She stands and I hug her. Immediately, she knows something is wrong.

“Spill it.”

And I do. Everything from going back home, seeing that house and those people, seeing Striker, the man I love and had to run away from, sleeping with him and all the feelings that it brought up. I tell her all of it.

“Why do you keep running from this guy?” she asks as she slips a section of her rainbow-dyed hair behind her ear.

“You know why.”

“That shit that happened with his dad? Who cares? He is a grown-ass man, I think he can handle the truth.”

“It’s not just that. What if I get back together with him and his dad does what he threatened all those years ago?”

“What happened… that was a long time ago. I mean, do you think it would even matter anymore?”

I shrug. That’s not a chance I can take.

Hannah doesn’t press for more. She knows me. She knows if she pushes too hard, I will shut down and shut her out. It hasn’t happened many times, but it has happened and she hates it.

Instead of pushing me, she lets the subject drop and instead, she talks about the store. She takes my mind off of it all.

As I stagger out of the cab in front of my apartment building, I look up and see two of everything. My mission for the night has been accomplished: get drunk enough to stop caring.

I’m only inside long enough to strip out of my clothes and get washed off. Before I’m even out of the shower, I hear Jeff yelling for me.

I turn off the water and wrap a towel around myself, heading toward the living room.

“Hey. I used your key to get in.” He holds it up in front of his face before tossing it on the counter.

“You look a little rough. Long weekend?” he asks as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

“You have no idea.” I shake my head before turning to look at him.

His dark hair is neatly styled and his brown eyes are kind and friendly. “Want to talk about it?” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and places a soft kiss to my bare skin.

“I slept with someone,” I blurt out.

He seems taken back but not upset. “Oh.”

When we started doing this thing, the number one rule was that we couldn’t sleep with anyone else.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t planned. I just ran into my ex-boyfriend and, well, one thing led to another.”

He shakes his head and takes his arm off my shoulders. “I understand.”

“I was just so confused by all the feelings being back there brought on.”

“It’s okay, Alex. I understand, it’s just that now we need to have that talk.”

“I know,” I whisper.

He rubs his hands on his pants and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, then turns to face me. “Does this mean that you and him are getting back together?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? He’s not going to come after you or something?”

I shrug. “I don’t think he will. We didn’t leave things on good terms. I kind of snuck out of his bed the next morning.”

A quiet laugh escapes his lips. “Oh, Alex.” His arm comes back around my shoulders as he leans back and presses me to him.

This I can handle. I don’t love Jeff, but he’s comfortable. I know he won’t ask for too much and he’s willing to accept whatever I give him because he can’t handle any more than what we’ve been doing anyway.

With him, I don’t have to think or feel. I can just be Alex, the girl who is just as broken as he is.

“We’re both too fucked up to deal with this, you know?”

I nod. “I know.”

His hand rubs up and down my arm, warming my skin.

We sit silently for a few moments before he finally stands. “I should probably be going. I’m sure you have all sorts of shit running through that head of yours.” He turns for the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

I stand and follow him to the door. “I will.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves. I lock the door behind him and flip all the light switches on the way back to the bedroom.

I crash in bed and pull the blankets up around me. Smoky is instantly by my side, cuddled up next to my stomach.

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

“You will not see that boy anymore. You’re going to be leaving for college soon and it will be over anyway. You can meet someone who is worthy of you, instead of being stuck in this town, working as a waitress with him by your side. You have a future waiting for you, don’t you see that?” My mother is trying to use her gentle, calm voice but it might as well be nails against a chalkboard to me.

To me, the only thing coming from my mother’s mouth is an unpleasant screeching sound which, if it had subtitles, would be giving me step-by-step instructions on how to live my life. I don’t want her life. I don’t want to be a lawyer like my father. I don’t want to marry anyone other than Striker. I don’t care if she doesn’t see in him what I do. He loves me. He protects me. Most of all, he’s always there for me, which is more than I can say about her.

When I don’t reply, she leaves me alone.

The first thing I do is climb out of my window and down the back of the house. I’m at Striker’s window ten minutes later. I tap against it and he opens up, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he helps me inside.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me, breathing him in. Tears build up and are about to break through, but I stop them short with sheer willpower. I won’t allow it. I refuse to let anyone see how weak I really am.

“Your mom again?” he asks.

I nod, not taking my head off his shoulder.

“Come on.” He pulls me into his warm bed and wraps me up in his strong arms.

“She doesn’t control us, Lex. It’s you and me.” He tilts my head so I meet his eyes. “It’s only ever going to be you and me.”

“How? She’s going to ship me off to college and I don’t have any say. She won’t let go of me until she’s broken me.”

He shakes his head. “As soon as you turn eighteen, she won’t have a say. We will pack up and hit the road, leave everyone else behind.” He softly kisses me. “Only you and me, Lex.”

His words, his heat, and his strong arms shield me from everything. I drift off into a peaceful sleep.

I wake suddenly with loud yelling going on in the other room. It’s Striker and his dad.

“I told you to drop that whore!” Ken yells.

“Don’t you fucking call her that!” Striker yells back, followed by a loud crashing sound.

“You think you’re big enough to take me? Huh?” I hear someone get hit, and the ensuing groan confirms that it was Striker.

I rush to the door and put my ear against it.

“I’m glad to see that you’re finally sticking up for yourself.” Another hit, another cry. “And all it took was to call your girlfriend what she really is.” Hit, cry. “A fucking whore just like her mother.”

I was expecting to hear another cry, but instead there is a loud crashing sound and then everything is quiet. I hear Striker’s loud breathing. Did he knock him out?

I don’t stick around to find out. I crawl out the window and head back home before someone there notices I’m gone.

On the walk home, I think about what I just witnessed.

Striker is eighteen but I’m not. He has nowhere else to go, but he’s putting up with beatings for me. How can I let him go on like this? I need to do something. But what? I can’t stop the fights, it seems like I only cause more.

I don’t know why his dad hates me so much. I’ve never done anything to him. But he knows something I don’t. He has to. Why else would he say the things he said to me the other night? My dad doesn’t run this town and my family doesn’t think they can take whatever they want either.

What is Ken’s problem? He used to be a normal guy, a little bit of an asshole but he worked hard and supported his family. Everything was fine until his wife left, but with an attitude like that, I don’t blame her. The only thing I blame her for is leaving Striker. How could she do that to her own son? She had to know what would happen if she left him with his father.

I don’t understand any of this. This is about Striker and me. Why does everyone feel the need to control us? We’re not doing anything wrong.

I can’t wait until I’m eighteen so Striker can save me as much as I save him.