“Nope. You’re staying here tonight,” Brick says. He lifts me up in his arms and carries me from this room to another one. Blue-gray walls, silver fixtures. Brick’s own bedroom.

He sets me down near the edge of the bed. He straightens my clothes and pushes back my hair. His face is so concerned. He’s sweet to me. Always has been. It would be easy. So easy to …

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t come at me like that unless you mean it.” He puts his hands on my wrists, real gentle. My skin still stings there from Noodle’s grip. I want to erase everything that just happened. Put myself back in the column of good.

Brick pushes me back a step. But his eyes say different. His fly says different. I wrench my hand away, slide it down his front. Kimberly might walk away from me but Brick won’t. He’ll always be there for me.

He catches my hand again. “Jennica, you’re drunk.”

“You wanna prove you’re some kinda good guy?” He sways, or maybe it’s me. “Bullshit. You run this neighborhood. There’s nothing good in that.”

“Jennica—”

“You’re no good,” I shout.

He stands silent. Dizziness rises from somewhere behind my knees. My hands find the edge of the mattress. Toss myself against it. My shin cracks against the baseboard. “Ow.”

“You okay?”

He kneels beside me, massaging the sore spot on my leg. His hands feel good, like they could cover all of me, make the hurt go away.

He slides my shoes off. “Get some sleep, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we can talk tomorrow.”

Screw that. I reach for him, pull him in. When our mouths meet, I taste salt and beer and breath.

It’s one quick moment, or it lasts a hundred years. Something like that. It’s gentle and wet and, honestly, why is it always so hard to get ourselves together?

He tears his face away. And that’s what it feels like, a Band-Aid being ripped off, a curtain being torn from ceiling to floor.

“Jesus, fuck,” he says. “Jennica.” He’s somewhere else, not up against me. Why? I blink until the room comes back into focus. He’s all the way over by the windows.

I come up on my elbows. “What? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

He comes closer, sweeps my hair to the side. “For once in this fucking life, I’m gonna do the right thing,” he says. “And I’ll probably regret it.”

MELODY

Brick comes out into the hallway, looking stressed. And furious. All at the same time.