A soft touch flitters over my cheek, softly brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

I smile a bit. For some reason it's so cold that it seeps past my skin and into my bones, but the touch is so warm and comforting I find myself wishing I could wrap myself in it and stay there forever. Just me, this blissful state of darkness, and the delicious heat of his body wrapped around mine as I fade into an eternal slumber.

The gentle fingers vanish all too quickly. I frown, my back aching as I shift across the bed.

"Sin?" I croak, somehow mustering the strength to crack an eyelid.

Warm hazel eyes blink back at me. A hesitant smile cracks over his lips. "Let me know if you're feeling particularly violent right now. This time I'll back up a few steps."

"Theo?" It's so dark still that I can barely make him out, another figure creeping from behind him. He scowls at me, scrubbing a weary hand through the scruff of his beard.

"You look like shit," Oliver says.

I squint at them, trying to blink the fatigue from my eyes. For a moment, I can't grasp our surroundings; can't understand why they're looking at me so strangely, why my body aches with exhaustion, why my nose is filled with the unfamiliar mildewy scent of rotted wood.

Then it clicks.

My heart explodes in my chest at the realization and I lurch upright with all the grace of a newborn deer.

"Whoa there!" Theo clutches my elbow as I nearly topple over. "It's alright. We're not going to hurt you."

I jerk away from him but my eyes graze down to the sleeve of his arm without thinking. An ugly concoction of emotion swirls in my stomach.

He smiles, pushing up the fabric to show me the wound haphazardly wrapped in gauze.

I'm so relieved I nearly tremble. God, what if I had killed him?

He must see the apologetic look in my eyes because he laughs. "Don't look so sad about it, Calli-girl."

I bite my lip, glancing down at the red-stained bandages. It looks hurried and barely held together with uneven strips of medical tape. "Whoever patched you up did a shit job."

"Not like we had time to play nurse," Oliver says, taking another step toward me. The blank expression on his face makes my stomach clench uneasily.

My eyes dart between the two of them. Neither one of them move but I can feel their eyes assessing me. Watching my every move. Waiting to show me what happens when I run.

"Calli," Theo says softly. Like he's talking to a wounded animal. "It's time to go home."

Oliver steps in front of the window and raises a daring eyebrow.

I stumble back into the wall, wiping my sweaty palms over the dirty fabric of my jeans. I don't have any weapons, I can barely see, and I've never felt more tired in my life. There's no way I can make it past them in this state.

I turn my chin up and study them warily and pretend that my heart isn't trying to beat out of my chest. "How did you find me?"

"Found the guy with the broken nose shortly after you did. He tipped us off to what direction you went in," Theo says, fingers absentmindedly roaming over the wound concealed by his sleeve. "Took us a while to find what abandoned house you settled on but here we are."

"Oh," I wince. Guess they're getting an eye-full of my not-so-finer moments tonight.

"It's okay." Theo pats one of my clenched fists, dimples flashing in a hesitant grin. "I don't know what happened but it seems like it's done a number on both of you. Once you're home maybe I can convince Sin to let us get takeout or something. Maybe watch a movie. Adam Sandler makes everyone feel better."

That makes my eyebrows rise. "Both of us?"

Theo and Oliver exchange an incomprehensible look before their eyes settle back on me.

"What happened?" Theo asks warily.

That makes me snort. "What happened, huh?" Something forbidden and gut-wrenching rises inside of me so rapidly that I barely have time to push the sensation back down before tears spring to my eyes. "What, is he mad because he lost his favorite play-thing? His fun little fuck?"

Oliver rolls his eyes. "You have no idea what you're—"

"Don't you fucking dare. I see him with some bitch sprawled over his lap and a hand shoved down his pants and you have the nerve to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about?"

His confidence falters for a beat but then gathers himself, glowers at me and says, "I don't give a shit if you watch him shove his dick balls-deep in every woman in the world. When you run, he's pissed and we take the brunt of it."

I snort. "Tough luck, buttercup. There's no way I'm going back there alive."

Something frightening flits over his face. "That can be arranged," he mutters.

I take a step forward. Weapons or not, I'm not afraid to show him what my bruised and aching fists can do to that arrogant shit-eating expression on his face.

Theo shoves himself in front of me before I can get any closer. "Whoa, okay. I think your tiny violent hands have done enough damage for the night."

I scowl at him.

Theo sighs, looking the most disgruntled than I've ever seen before. "He's right to some degree. Sin hasn't been...himself since you left."

I roll my eyes even as my chest clenches traitorously. Some enslaved part of my heart perks up at the mention of his reaction to my absence. "He'll be fine." He has more pussy he can ever dream of constantly at his disposal. Why would he need mine?

Theo winces, running a hand through his disheveled chocolate strands. "Calli," he warns. "You're lucky we found you first. If we bring you back now, maybe—"

"You don't get it, do you?" I scoff. "I'm not anything to him besides a warm cunt to slide into at night. He's angry because his favorite pet ran away. What do you think he's going to do with me when he isn't entertained anymore?"

Both of them stare at me in bewildered silence.

"Huh," Oliver says, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and leaning against the window sill. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"

The kind of dangerous heat that causes me to do recklessly violent things spreads through my veins and makes my fingers twitch with vicious need. "You're a f—"

Theo slaps a hand over my mouth. "That's just Oliver's funny way of showing love." He grimaces at the dubious expression that crosses my face. "Think calming thoughts, Calli-girl. Like the greasiest lo mein you've ever eaten and 50 First Dates. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I knock his arm away, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm serious. I'm not going back with you."

Theo sighs. "But—"

"Knock me out. Kill me. But there's no way in hell I'll ever go with you willingly."

His lips pull into a thin line. "I was hoping you wouldn't make this difficult."

I soften at the troubled look on his face. I know Theo cares for me in his own way and I'd be lying if I said I don't feel the same about him. Somewhere along the road I'd begun to regard his goofiness fondly.

"You could just let me go," I whisper, taking his hand. His brows knit with internal conflict as his fingers squeeze mine. "If you've ever thought of me as a friend you'll spare me this one favor."

"You don't understand what you're asking us to do," Oliver says behind him. I don't acknowledge his words, not even sparing him a glance as I stare pleadingly into Theo's warm and tentative gaze.

After a long moment, a deep breath whooshes from his lungs. "He'll find you. It doesn't matter if we let you go or not."

The hopeful sensation in my chest crumbles a bit but then he frowns and pulls away from me. "You'll have to leave now. Try not to draw any more attention to yourself, okay? It was far too easy to find you this time around."

Relief crashes over me so intensely I nearly shake.

Oliver makes an exasperated sound. "Do you understand what you're doing right now?"

"If the truth comes out, I'll take the blame." I frown a bit at that but he winks reassuringly at me. "Our secret, right?"

"Our secret," I confirm, then throw my arms around his torso. His body is warm and solid as he wraps his arms around me, smelling faintly of something pleasant and minty. I let myself rest my head against his shoulder, breathing him in and absorbing the heat of his body. He's a good hugger and I'll admit that I still feel a bit like a human popsicle. "Thank you."

"You're hard to say no to," he murmurs in my hair. "I think I'm starting to understand him."

I pull away to scowl defiantly at Oliver but he surprises me by pulling his wallet from his pocket and digging out a wad of cash that he stuffs into my hands.

I stare dumbly at the stack of bills. "What's this?"

"You're stupid but you're as brave as they come. I respect that." He tucks his wallet back in his pants and looks away as if the act of kindness pains him to grate out. "You'll need a warm roof over your head. Somewhere safe that he won't think to look for you. There's a Motel 6 a block away. That's enough money for you to stay there for a few nights and buy some food in the meantime."

I'm so dumbfounded that it takes me a long moment for words to form in my head. "Wow. Thank you. Seriously."

"Don't mention it," he says, stepping away from the window and letting the perpetual state of distaste form on his face again. "Literally. One word of this to Sinclair and you're dead."

I sigh, nearing the jagged glass and taking one last lingering look at them. Theo spares me one last dimple-filled smile before I go.

My heart feels heavy in my chest. I'll miss them both. Even Oliver and the permanent glower on his face when he looks at me.

"Bye," I whisper as I throw a careful leg through the broken pane. They're eerily silent as I shimmy the rest of my body through, landing clumsily on the weed-filled lawn.

Oliver waits until I've begun to walk away before his deep rumble emerges from the abandoned building behind me.

"See you soon," he simply says.

For some reason I doubt that part was meant to reach my ears.

...

I cash in for a night at the motel. It's $57 a night and from what I counted the stash should buy me enough time for about five days until I can figure something else out.

It's a dingy room placed on the second floor but it's equipped with all of the necessities. The chatter of my neighbors filters through the thin walls but it doesn't bother me. A small ugly beige table sits in front of the window with a set of matching thread-bare and stained chairs. I almost sigh in relief as I notice the bed pushed into the corner. The mattress is stiff and the blankets have a strange chemical scent to them but I hardly mind. I shut the curtains, flip off the light, crawl onto the mattress and pass out.

In the morning, I wake to the feeling of grime caked to my skin and a hollow sensation in my belly. After a long shower scrubbing myself with tiny soaps, I step out and do the best I can to wipe the dirt off my clothing with a damp washcloth.

It's not nearly as effective as I want it to be but I step into the rumpled fabric anyway. I make a mental note to pick up some clothing at the nearest thrift store.

In the meantime, I flip back on the television and use the motel phone to order a large pizza from a little menu stuffed into the night table desk from a past tenant. There's one for Chinese as well but I push it to the side. I have an itching feeling that the greasy food would remind me of a certain boy with the personality of a golden retriever.

Between the time spent flipping through the motel's crappy TV stations, gnawing on cold pizza, and sleeping the day away, my body is consumed with a foreign and endless type of emptiness. The kind that leaves me hollow and aching for him to fill the gaping hole in my chest.

I feel like an addict going through withdrawal. A garden of withering flowers.

For once, I let myself feel the full brunt of it. I let myself bask in the desolation, let myself dream of the softness of his skin over mine. Remember the feeling of his heart beating into the skin of my back as he holds me against him.

I cry until my eyes ache and I have no choice but to fold myself in the thin motel blankets and force myself asleep. It grants me the wonderful sensation of nothingness.

When I wake, it's nighttime again. It's eerily quiet, the noise of my neighbors dimmed to silence. Maybe they're asleep? Out for the nightlife?

Something uneasy stirs restlessly inside of me. It begs for me to rise from my bed and vacate the tiny room that's quickly beginning to feel like a cage.

I take a deep breath and attempt to calm the nerves that tug deep in my stomach. I feel cornered, like a wild animal that knows it's being closed in upon before a bullet embeds itself in its head.

It's probably just paranoia. The feeling result of being holed up all day with nothing to do, nowhere else to go.

I'm not sure what fuels me to stride over the window and pull back the thick off-white curtain. The lot is vacant aside from a dark silhouette that leans against the staircase railing and raises something to his mouth.

In the dim light, a puff of smoke emerges from his lips. I can't make out his face in the dim light but I swear his head turns toward me.

He stills for a moment and that uneasy feeling rises in my stomach again, my heart skipping a beat in my throat.

The man seems to stare at me for a long, drawn-out moment. He laxly brings the cigarette to his lips again and draws in a long puff before exhaling a tobacco-filled cloud around him.

I watch him drop the glowing tip to the ground and stomp out the lingering ember with his foot. Then without a moment of hesitation, he starts up the stairs, the only sign of the tension in his body the lingering stiffness in his shoulders and the crushed box of smokes in his right hand.

I scramble back, rushing to the door to double-check that the locks are in place. I can't make out the brand in the darkness but I have a rising suspicion that they're Marlboro.