He held his open palm up. “I’m so sorry, kitten. This isn’t cool.”

I left the bed, letting the phone drop. I gently reached out my hand, holding it just above the mark.

“Did he do this? To you?” And then it was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. The thing was, in my family you had to learn to fight. To stand up for yourself. To scream louder than everyone else sometimes, well, before Mom left and everything was quiet.

Austin grabbed my wrist and lowered my hand. “Don’t worry about it, baby.”

“He can’t hit you. He can’t.” I tried to walk around Austin, and he put his hands on my shoulders.

“It’s over. Nothing to think about.” He stepped to make sure I was staying put.

“You need ice.” I tilted to see the rest of his mark.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s talk about when your classes are. We can set alarms so we don’t miss anything.” He attempted to smile.

“You always try to take care of everyone else, huh?” I stopped trying to maneuver around him.

He shrugged. “Listen, you’ve seen a very carefully curated version of me, but here? In my world? I’m the draft. I’m messy. I make mistakes. I make the same mistakes over and over.”

“I get that.” I stepped backward and then moved to the bathroom.

I grabbed a washcloth and let the tap run cold. I heard the bed squeak under the weight of Austin sitting down.

Once the washcloth was wet, I wrung it out. When I got back to him, he looked defeated and I hated it. Hated Endgame.

I put my finger under his chin and gently lifted his face. I slowly applied the washcloth, holding it gently in place. He kept his eyes on the floor and spoke quietly. “You shouldn’t have seen this.”

“And you shouldn’t have had to get naked and peel hundreds of Post-it notes listing my faults off walls, but here we are.” I lifted the washcloth and flipped it, to get the cold again.

He lifted his eyes and stared at me. “You’re not a little kid anymore.”

I nodded. “Haven’t been for a long time.”

He covered my hand and took the washcloth from me. “Thanks, kitten.”

He lay back and pulled on my arm so I had to crawl on the bed next to him. I rested my head on his chest.

I wanted this more than anything, but knowing that he and Endgame had fought took the filter off the dreamy fairy tale in my head.

* * *

Austin fell asleep, and I didn't. I knew he was a heavy sleeper. It was a Burathon inside joke that you needed a bullhorn to wake Austin up when he was tired. When I pushed myself up to move, his breathing was deep and steady.