“You’re fired!” Cam booms.

Lucas picks up his tools he’d just set on the floor and spins around. “Laters!”

“No!” I yell. “I need your help.”

He turns around, his smile wide. “I’ll do it for you, Hudson. I owe you this much.”

I drop my gaze at the memory of Jeremy he instantly invokes in me. Another sob rises from the pit of my stomach, catching in my throat before it leaves me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine… just…”

“Jeremy?” he asks.

I nod. “Jeremy.” I don’t know why I’m thinking about Jeremy the way I am. Why I suddenly find myself missing him the way I do.

Jake clears his throat. “So how long do we have until D gets home? You want it to be a surprise, right?”

“He won’t be home tonight,” I let slip, but don’t bother to right my wrong.

“Where is he?” Cameron asks.

I look up, three sets of eyes on me—their expressions matching that of Dylan’s family as I stood in their hallway. They look worried. I am worried. I don’t know what to say, so I give them a half truth. It’s better than the constant lies falling from my lips. “I think he just needed to get away for the night.”

It doesn’t take them long to demolish the old bench and put the new one up, and it’s only when I see it in pieces on the back of both Jake and Lucas’s truck as they drive away that I realize I’ve made a mistake. Dylan has a personal attachment to that bench—the years and years he spent working on it and I just took it away. He won’t see the good I’d tried to do… he’ll only see the bad.

He only ever sees the bad now.

I curse under my breath, already fearing his response. And of all the emotions that could possibly lead me to what I do next, fear is the greatest one.

Dylan

Riley’s calling.

I don’t know why she’s calling.

I ignore the call only for it to ring again. And again.

Then a text comes through.

Riley: I’ve been pulled over. The brake lights were out, I guess, and it’s registered under your name. The officer asked you to come and bring some identification.

I sit on the edge of the hotel bed and check the time. It’s nine at night. I don’t know if I’ve slept or if I’ve just been in a daze but last I knew it was light out. I call her back, but I don’t speak.

“Dylan?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

I grab the beer sitting on my nightstand and take a few sips. “Where are you?”

She gives me her location and I take another sip. Then I dress, grab my keys and go to her.

She’s not hard to find, the flashing lights of the police car give her away. I park behind both cars and get out, pulling out my wallet as I walk toward them. A part of me is angry she’s driving without brake lights, not just because it’s fucking dangerous, but because I’d specifically asked Dad to take care of that shit because I knew she wouldn’t.

She’s still sitting behind the driver’s seat and when I walk up, the officer turns to me, aiming his flashlight in my eyes. “You’re the owner of this vehicle?” he asks. He’s my dad’s age, same build, no beard.

“Yes, Sir,” I tell him, pulling my military ID from my wallet and handing it to him.

He flashes his light on the ID and looks up at me. “Camp Lejeune?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Did Ms. Hudson tell you why she was pulled over?”

“Yes, Sir. Brake lights. I’ll take care of it first thing.”

He steps closer as he hands me back his ID, then freezes in his spot. He shines his light at my face again. “You been drinking, Lance Corporal?”

I suppress my eye roll. “I was having a beer when I got the call, officer.”

“How many beers?”

“Just the one.”

“I’m going to trust you,” he tells me, his voice stern.

I stay quiet, because everything I want to say would just get us in more trouble. I’m not intoxicated, but I’ve definitely had more than one beer.

He turns and starts walking back to Riley’s window.

I lean against the car, my arms and legs crossed, waiting. I just want to get back to the hotel. Back to solitary. Back to silence.

“Here’s your license back, Ms. Hudson. You’re going to have to leave the car here and get it towed. It’s illegal to drive it the way it is.”

Shit. Now I have to sit in the fucking car with her.

“Is that a bottle of liquor on your passenger seat, Miss?” the office asks, and my head whips to the side, my ears perked, waiting for her response.

“Yes, Sir,” she says quietly.

I push off the car and stand next to the cop, my forearm resting on the roof. I don’t look at her. I can’t.

The officer sighs. “Hand it over.”

It takes a long time before I see Riley’s hand out the window, holding the bottle of Boons Farm wine she used to inhale to survive.

The officer lifts it higher, his flashlight shining on the screw cap. “This seal’s broken, Ms. Hudson. You are aware it’s an offense to drive with an open container of alcohol in a vehicle, aren’t you?”

She sniffs once. “Yes, Sir.”

The officer opens her door. “Please step out of the vehicle, Miss.”

I keep my gaze lowered, and re-cross my arms, doing everything I can not to look at her. If I see her—see the plea in her eyes—her eyes the color of sadness, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’d probably cut the bullshit and reach out to her, hold her and tell her that it’ll be okay. But it won’t last long until I fuck up, until I hurt her, until Dave’s in my vision again—pushing me to the brink of insanity.

“Have you consumed any alcohol tonight?” the officer asks her.

She sobs again, the single sound causing the destruction inside me. I finally look at her, her cheeks stained with tears as she stands in front of the police officer, her hands shaking at her sides.

“No, Sir. I mean yes, Sir. Just a sip. In the parking lot at the store where I got it. That’s all.”

My stomach falls, my breath releasing as my head drops forward, Riley’s words completely ruining me.

Her shoulders shake as she covers her eyes, releasing another round of sobs.

The officer says, “I need to do a sobriety test, Ms. Hudson.”

“Okay,” she says, her face contorting with another cry.

The cop’s shoulders drop as he stands in front of the girl I love, his authoritative demeanor waning. “Miss. If you’ve only had a sip, you’ll be okay. You’ll get a fine and it will all be over, okay?”

She drops her head in her hands, her shoulder lifting with each sob.

“Riley,” I whisper, but she doesn’t hear me.

“Go to her!” Dave’s voice rattles in my head. But I can’t. My feet are glued to the ground, my heart with it. Because I destroyed her. I caused this.

She looks up, wiping her tears on her arm. She straightens her shoulders as she looks between the cop and I.

“Miss?” the officer says again.

Her words are muffled by her forearm—using it to hide her cries. “That’s not why I’m crying.”