Another fragment of buried memory surfaces, sharper this time, and I remember. Hayes was still at the top of the treehouse when I fell. There’s no way he could’ve gotten down fast enough to catch me?—
“Al?” Hayes knocks softly on the bathroom door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
All thoughts of the treehouse slip away instantly, dissolving like mist.
I don’t know if I can face Hayes right now.
My eyes dart around the bathroom, searching for an escape. There’s a narrow window behind the toilet, barely wide enough to squeeze through. Even if I could get it open, where would I go? I can’t drive. Not after everything I drank. And my phone is gone.
“Alligator?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Please let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I weigh my options.
I could keep ignoring him, but that only ends two ways. Either he eventually gives up and I spend the night sleeping on the sticky floor of a frat house bathroom, still in my costume… or, far more likely, Hayes breaks down the door in front of everyone, which might be even more humiliating.
“Okay,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
I unlock the door. Argyros pushes in first, pressing his cold nose to my knee with a soft whimper. Hayes follows close behind, his presence steady and grounding, a quiet, comforting force.
He takes my hands in his, gently, and his mouth parts—first in shock, then in slow-burning fury—as hesees the red marks circling my wrists. His thumb brushes over the welts with a feather-light touch. Careful. Reverent.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
His jaw flexes, rage coiling beneath the surface. “I’m going tokillthat bastard.”
He rises, shoulders tensing, and turns for the door, ready to track Dylan down and finish what he started. He looks ready to unleash hell.
Maybe it should comfort me to see how much he truly does care about me, but right now, I’m just too shaken. My body aches. My eyes burn. All I want is to disappear into sleep and forget this night ever happened.
“Please, Hayes, I just want to go.”
He grabs a clean towel and runs it under cold water, pressing it gently to my wrists. His touch is soothing. Steady.
Slowly, he helps me to my feet, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No, not home.”
I don’t want my mom to see me like this. Besides, she won’t understand. She’s the one who always told me to be careful, always be on guard. That monsters are everywhere and you can’t trust anyone, especially men.
“What do you need, Al? Tell me what to do.”
The anger still burns in his eyes, but underneath it, there’s something else, something unspoken andfiercely protective.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” I ask. “One second, it was just me and Dylan, all alone. And then… you…” My voice wavers. “And the way you hit him. My God, Hay, heflewthrough the air?—”
“You’re drunk. You’re not remembering things correctly.”
Maybe.
Probably.
“Come on,” he says, opening the door and taking my hand. “Let’s get you back to my place.”
The walk to his apartment is a blur. I barely register the pavement beneath my feet or the sharp bite of October air on my skin. There’s only Hayes’s arm wrapped around my waist, his warmth tethering me to reality.
