"If you don't punch him, I sure as hell will," Jackson said from the passenger seat of Buck's truck.

"I'm planning on it. Why do you think I brought you along?" he asked. It was a day or so later, and they were off to retrieve Mila's things.

"Audrey wants some of those cinnamon rolls from that bakery in town while we are out."

"You know those things sell out first thing," Buck mumbled, double checking the house number on the sheet of paper Mila had wrote for him.

"I know, which is why I called in an order. I got a dozen, figured you and Mila would take half."

"God, and she cooks so damn good. I'm bound to gain a few pounds," Buck said, exaggeratedly, patting his stomach.

"I should bring Audrey over sometime. Maybe she could learn a few tricks," Jackson paused as Buck turned off the truck. They both glanced at the dark shack of a house. "This is it?"

Buck nodded and they got out. The grass was overgrown and the driveway was weathered. The place looked abandoned more than anything.

He knocked on the door, Jackson lingering a few steps behind him. Blood rushed through his ears and he clenched his fists. He was beyond pissed off. Mila was one of the sweetest people in the entire world. What did she do deserve this life?

The man that answered was the same age as him. He was tall and blonde like Mila.

"Can I help you?" he sneered, and Buck could see the monster in him, the darkness in his eyes and the anger in his features.

"I'm Buck, Mila's match. I'm here to get her things," he said gruffly.

Dave chuckled, "Yeah, like I care. Get out of here."

"Alright. I'll come back with authorities in about an hour," Buck responded, getting ready to turn and leave, but the door was pushed open all the way.

"Ten minutes," Dave mumbled. "Upstairs on the left."

The house was disgusting, and Buck's eyes immediately went to the pile of beer bottles on the coffee table.

Mila's room was the cleanest room in the whole house, but it was mostly empty and looked like no one lived in it.

"This feels wrong," Jackson muttered, standing in the door frame as Buck rummaged around. He pulled some clothes, and found an old teddy bear buried in one of the drawers. He did as she instructed and walked into the closet. She said one of the boards would sound different and the box of her mom's things was underneath.

He found it easily, and curiously looked through. It was a shoebox. It had what looked like a wedding ring and a few photos, and a letter of some sort. It wasn't much of anything, and his heart broke for her.

"That's it?"

Buck nodded. "This is bullshit. This is her entire life," he whispered, gesturing to the very small handful of things he had. He vowed to get whatever the pretty girl desired from here on out. She deserved to be spoiled.

Buck passed the things to Jackson and they headed down the stairs.

Dave was waiting by the front door. "Can you get out now?"

He hardly got the words out before Buck landed one solid punch onto his jaw.

The man sputtered, hunching over and gripping the spot. Buck got another hook to the nose.

Buck lifted him by his shirt, slamming him harshly into the wall.

"If I ever see you near Mila again, I'll kill you with my bare hands," Buck said darkly, his knee going up into his gut.

He and Jackson left. His mind was reeling. He was angry, angrier then he had been in a very long time. He needed Mila.

---

"What did you do?" she asked as soon as he entered the house.

"Not enough," he grumbled, letting her pick up his hand. Her thumb grazed the bruising on his knuckles, and she glanced at the blood on his jeans, narrowing her eyes. "I just gave him a bloody nose. That's all, promise."

She nodded. "Thank you for going over there." He handed her the bag of things and she peered into it hesitantly. "Let me wash those jeans so that it doesn't stain."

He decided to appease her, going up to change into another pair of jeans and bringing down the other ones. It was just a few drops of blood, but he would let her make a fuss. He thought it was cute anyway.

"Jackson bought cinnamon rolls from this bakery in town. He let us have a few," he said loudly, not quite knowing where she was. He found her in the kitchen. The shoebox was opened and she was clutching a photo of her and he assumed her mom.

"You shouldn't hold it like that. It'll crinkle," he said, going over to a junk drawer and pulling out an old dusty frame. He cleaned the glass with the end of his t-shirt, before taking the picture from her and tucking it safely into place.

"Thank you," she sniffled.

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Of course. We should set it some place or hang it so we can see it. It's a great picture. You're very cute."

She gave a sad chuckle, "Really?"

He nodded and hummed, "Wherever you want to put it."