My hand slips on the device because of the blood, but I hurry to scramble and press it against my ear after hitting the green button. I don't even look at the name. I know who it is, and my energy is already beginning to come back to me.

"Winter?"

"D-Des—"

She's crying.

Despite my state, I sit up.

"He won't— I don't know what to do," she sobs, and I'm already standing. It's sounding like she's in trouble, like someone hurt her, and that is absolutely—

"My dad, h-he doesn't want me to see you anymore. He said you're dangerous!"

Oh.

My sense of haste goes away. I pause, frowning, trying to figure out what she's upset about. She saw me shoot two people, and I suspect Vaughn at the very least saw me shoot Scooter in the head, if he was looking in his mirrors. I hope not.

She looked terrified. She was terrified. Why is she calling me now? Why does she want to talk to me? Why does she seem so upset? Shouldn't she agree?

Shouldn't she want to stay away from me to begin with?

My head still hurts, and I don't want to risk taking out my consequential bad mood on her, so I go to the gas station and shoplift due to being out of money now, minus what I have in my apartment and car and various emergency stashes. The cashier either doesn't notice or doesn't care, distracted by texting someone on her phone.

I talk to Winter the whole time.

"Well..." I respond, frowning. Sorry, but I'm genuinely confused. I still can't get the look on her face out of my head. "Don't you agree?"

"No I don't agree!" She snaps, a whole new round of tears starting up. "You're my best friend, why would he—"

She's thrown into even more sobs, and I can't help the expression of confusion on my face as I exit the gas station and make my way down the sidewalk.

"Winter, he's right. He was always right," I tell her, trying not to wince. I've known from the start—Winter's dad read me well right from the get go. He knew who I was from the very beginning, I could just never admit it.

"I'm not the person you think. You have no idea what I've done."

Vaughn and I met under some pretty standard circumstances. I was dropping off his daughter past curfew, but this time I wasn't gonna be able to just drive away and avoid her father's wrath.

No, he wanted to meet me. I'd have to face the consequences.

"Please?" A fifteen year old Winter pleaded with my eighteen year old self. I was still hesitant to hang out with her, I didn't like having friendships with people below around two years younger than me. I didn't want to be a bad influence, but she almost seemed drawn to the danger.

I couldn't shake her, and I didn't really want to. My reluctance was mostly for her sake, but she made it clear she wanted me as a friend and I didn't have much choice in the matter. Even that early on, Winter lodged herself in my life after I beat the shit out of her bully, and she's refused to go away since.

Which was fine, because again, I didn't really want her to.

And now I had to meet her dad.

"I don't know if he will let us hang out if you meet him," she continued to plead. I glanced past her at Vaughn's intimidating form on the porch, waiting up for his daughter. It just passed 10 PM, and her curfew was 9 or 8 or something. I did not want to deal with an angry father right now, especially since I had a race after this.

I was never a match for her soft, caramel eyes, however. They just reminded me too much of who my mother used to be, I was powerless to say no.

"You shouldn't want to hang out with me."

"Please?"

"Fine."

She beamed, which dispersed the sour expression on my face pretty fast, though it wasn't fully gone. I stepped out of the corvette right as she did, avoiding looking straight ahead as I rounded the vehicle. She jumped out, giddy with nervous excitement, and grabbed my wrist. I tensed, since it was early enough in our friendship that I wasn't used to the casual touching yet. I was even more aware as we neared the shadowy figure of her father.

I could tell he was tall immediately. The top of his head was far closer to the roof of the porch cover than anyone should be, and then there was his actual frame. The muscle. The dirt. The calloused hands and piercing blue gaze narrowed on me.

That was the first thing I noticed, and probably the last thing as well. I was transfixed, hypnotized by his curly hair and oil stained t-shirt. Judging by the fact he had boots on and a bit of sweat on his forehead, he must've just gotten off of work.

He looked in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, but I assumed I was probably wrong about that. He would've had Winter very young if that were the case, and he seemed too intense and reserved to be making a mistake as serious as a teen pregnancy. He probably just looked young for his age.

"Dad, this is Desmond Crenshaw. Des, this is my dad."

I blinked up at him, dumbfounded. He was unlike anything I'd ever seen, much like his daughter in that aspect. However, he was visibly less friendly. Roughened. The man narrowed his icy gaze on me, studying. His eyes flicked down to her hold on my wrist, and I reflexively broke the contact.

"Desmond," he stated, though I think it was meant to be a greeting. He held out his hand and it took me way too long to shake it.

As soon as our skin touched, I knew I was in trouble. As soon as he gripped my hand like a vice and stared into my eyes, greeting me by my full name, I was done. I lost. My last brain cell checked out and I was deemed an eternal mess.

I didn't like my full name, but there was something different about the way he said it. The way he pronounced the S, the way he enunciated the O. The hint of an accent—subtle but not unnoticed.

I could not let him call me that. It made me feel weird. "You can just call me Cren. Or Crenshaw."

He narrowed his eyes. He hadn't looked at me in a way that was remotely kind or polite since I got here. He didn't like me, which I was used to. I didn't have much parental approval throughout my life. I quite literally look like a bad influence, even if you discount everything else about me.

"Desmond," Vaughn repeated again, and I shivered. I had to let go of his hand. I had to break eye contact. I was starting to freak out, feeling too many unidentifiable things at once. I needed to get out of there.

I stared at him way too long before finally forcing myself to look away, and I couldn't make eye contact with Winter either.

"I gotta get home. Have a good night."

Then I was gone. Off the porch and walking back to my car with haste, face red, trying to figure out what was going on with me. Why was my whole body tingling?

I didn't know why then, but I'm well aware now. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about my unrequited feelings. The hopeless emotion and sentiment I try desperately to push down. The desire and longing I wish I could rip out of myself by force.

It's not mutual. It's never been, and it never will be. He knew I was bad news from the get-go. He wanted me gone from the start.

I can't blame him for finally snapping.

"I don't care what you've done!" Winter snaps at me, crying harder, pulling me out of the clouds and back down to earth with a single sentence. I blink, lips pursed, feeling a bit guilty at how upset she is. And hurt. I really don't like it when she gets like this. When she's crying so hard she has to stop breathing in order to speak clearly.

Usually I'm not the reason. Usually I can just beat up whatever asshole called her fat or stole her homework to cheat or whatever, then move on with my day, but not now. It's my fault. I'm the reason she's sobbing right now, not Vaughn. Not a bully. Me.

I'll do anything to stop it.

"I don't care, okay? You and my dad are everything. I can't lose either of you, but he said as long as I live in his house I can't see you, but I'm not gonna leave until I go to college, and then when I go to college I still—"

"Winter, breathe." I interrupt, which she usually hates but I assume she will let it slide this time. I enter my building, walking across the small, shitty makeshift lobby and up the stairs. I reach my apartment a minute later, listening to Winter cry and try to follow my directions the entire journey, then I talk again.

"He has a point. They aren't the only people who want to hurt you to get to me. They won't be the last." It sucks to say, but it's the truth. I feel awful.

As soon as I open the door, a raccoon skitters across the floor and into my closet. I barely even pay it any mind, walking over to the bottle from last night and planning on spending my day draining the rest of it. I don't care that I still have a headache and it's not even 7 in the morning yet. This phone call will only make me spiral, I feel helpless.

I just want her to be happy.

"You don't understand, Des," her voice shakes, tears evident, but her words come out clear. "You don't understand how much you mean to me. Nobody—Nobody cared before you. Nobody helped me. Nobody stayed. I can't lose you. Maybe... M-Maybe if my dad could just see all the times you took care of me, he would—"

I won't even entertain that thought. "I'm not going to change his mind. Maybe in a few years—"

Immediately after my rejection, she's bursting into tears again. It cuts me off, makes me pause for a moment and really think about the situation. About what she's asking.

She wants me to convince him.

She wants me to prove to her dad that I'm good. That I take care of her. That I'm not just some piece of shit drug dealer, that she's safe with me. That I'm worthy to have her in my life.

Except... how? How the hell do I prove something that's not true? Of course I care about her, of course I want what's best for her, I just don't see me being able to provide that kind of security. I don't see how I fit.

I hate hearing her so upset, though. Sobbing into the phone because she's so broken up about this. She has other friends—not many, and none that are nearly as close to her, but she has them—so wouldn't that suffice at the very least? Why is she so devasted?

She truly is. She's heartbroken. Just because of the risk of losing me, and not only that, but she's willing to fight. I've never had someone care that much, not in a long time at least. I don't remember the last time I was this important to someone.

Maybe I need to treat her care and love for me with respect. I'm only making it worse by siding with Vaughn.

"I'll talk to him."

The words are out before I can second guess myself. I throw myself off, pausing as soon as I say them. I wait anxiously as her sobs begin to space out, volume lowering as the sniffles fade away. When she speaks again, it's shaky.

"Really?"

Fuck. There's pure hope in her voice, and I already said it. I already gave her my word. I can't go back. I can't bear hearing her like that.

I set the bottle down. So much for drinking.

Vaughn's towering form flashes through my mind. The last time I saw him, the fear and disappointment in his eyes. The time before that, in his kitchen, one of the most mortifying experiences of my life. I've never been so exposed.

Do I really want to face him? One-on-one? Face to face?

No, I don't.

"Yes. I'll go to the garage right now."

But I will.