After disentangling myself from Austin's hold, I usher us to the kitchen. It's a little past noon, and since I haven't eaten yet today, I offer to make us BLT sandwiches.

Rock music from the old radio on the kitchen counter serves as background noise, the heavy strumming of guitars playing at a soft volume.

Grease from the frying pan zaps at my skin and I mutter a string of curses, glaring at the sizzling bacon. Austin chuckles beside me, where he's busy slicing tomatoes.

"You want me to take over?" he asks, smirking.

I shake my head. "I can handle it."

"I don't doubt that one bit," he agrees.

"You sure come to my rescue an awful lot," I sigh playfully.

He finishes cutting the tomato and walks around me to the sink, washing the knife. He looks up at me briefly and grins wryly. "My mom used to tell me that I have a hero complex. Always trying to save people. Funny how that works."

"What do you mean?"

He turns off the faucet and spins around, crossing his arms. I happily take in the view, enjoying how his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest and displays his tattoos.

"I like helping others. Always have. But it's weird, because I hate when others try to help me. Even when I was younger, I wanted to do things for myself, by myself. Hell, on the first day of kindergarten, I refused to let my mom walk me to my classroom. I insisted I'd find the way myself," he recalls.

I picture a young Austin with an oversized backpack and a stubborn frown. I grin. "And did you?"

"Nah, I definitely got lost," he laughs. "But I eventually found it. It just took me a few hours."

"Hours?" I gape.

"I made my grand entrance right before my class left for recess," he admits sheepishly.

"Oh, my god. Did your mom find out?"

He gets a far-away look in his eye. "Yeah. She didn't take it too well. I told you she was really over protective, didn't I?"

I nod, and he continues, his grin fading slightly. "After the first day, she was determined to walk me to class every day. I didn't want her to. So, she called the school and they assigned an older kid, a third grader, to walk me to and from class every day."

A bitter tone coats his words as he finishes his spiel. Reaching forward, I turn the stove top off. I turn towards him and hope for a nonchalant tone when I ask, "Why was she so overprotective?"

Austin's intense gaze meets my own. "I feel like I should put all of my cards on the table. You showed me yours, so it's only fair," he starts.

I stiffen. "Don't turn it into a trade-off," I interrupt sharply. "I didn't show you my skeletons in hopes you'd do the same. You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with," I finish.

He runs his hands over his face roughly. A part of me wonders how the conversation took such a turn, and then I remember that I'm the one who asked.

"I know that, Aria," he says slowly, defensively. "That goes for the both of us. Anything I tell you, is what I want to tell you, alright?"

I relax a little. "Alright," I agree.

"It's just not a happy subject. You're not the only one with baggage. I don't want to run you off either," he says firmly.

"You won't."

He relaxes too. Reaching for the cabinet beside him, I grab two paper plates and hold one out to him. He exhales, and a look of relief crosses his features. Save for the rock music from the radio, a comfortable silence passes between us as we make our sandwiches.

Instead of taking a seat at the dining table, I grab two sodas and guide us back to my room. Not even caring about getting crumbs in my bed, we both lean our backs against my headboard and get comfortable.

I spend so much time in my room when I'm home, and it only feels right to have a conversation that Austin deems difficult, here. I don't want to share our secrets in a space that my mother occupies far too often, even if she isn't even home right now.

A beat passes, and then Austin speaks up. I'm taken aback when the first words out of his mouth are, "My father is in prison."

Woah.

Unsure of what to say, I just nod, encouraging him to continue. He sighs.

"He's in prison for murder."

My eyes widen. Holy shit. I was definitely not expecting that.

He sees my expression and rushes to explain. "He wasn't in my life very long when it happened. I was three, and my brother Reed was barely one. I was told he was meeting up with some guy who was selling an old car. My dad was interested. Had the cash in hand and everything. When he got to the meet-up spot, two guys came out of nowhere and pinned him down, took the money, and ran. A week later, my dad tracked down the guy who was supposed to be selling the car and shot him."

A look of anger crosses Austin's features when he finishes. I push my plate aside and turn my body towards him, facing him head on.

"You said... 'what you were told'. What does that mean?" I ask apprehensively.

"My mom took off after it happened. She tried to keep it from us, didn't want us to know. She let us think he ran off on her and left her with two kids. Obviously the truth came out years later when I found old newspapers in our attic," he says roughly.

"I can't believe she tried to keep that from you. I'm so sorry," I say to him.

"I was so mad at her," he confesses. "I hated feeling oblivious. But I'm more angry at him."

I reach out and squeeze his hand. "You have the right to be angry."

"He's reached out to me and Reed, but I ignore the letters. I hate that I'm related to someone so angry and violent. Hate that I have his blood running through my veins. I don't want to get to know him," he admits.

That statement almost knocks the breath out of me. I completely understand where he's coming from.

"I know what you mean," I say. "My parents weren't the most affectionate people in the world. I don't want to end up like them, but I'm scared I already am."

"You're not," he says firmly. "We're not our parents."

I smile. "I'm really glad you're in my life."

He chuckles. "Me too. I've got everything set up for our date."

Butterflies erupt when he mentions it. I grin. "What are we doing?"

"It's a surprise," he rasps.

"No," I groan, smacking his chest. "You can't bring it up and not tell me!"

"It'll be worth it, I promise. You're gonna love it," he grins.

"If you're so sure," I sigh.

His hand, still holding mine, jerks me forward. "Positive," he confirms.

My breath hitches and I inch closer. He leans in, and his phone rings.

We both groan. Austin sighs loudly and releases my hand. He maneuvers a little, and pulls his ringing phone from his pocket. He grimaces as he reads the screen.

"Hello?" he asks.

I lean forward and smooth out the wrinkle on his forehead. His frown turns into a grin and I smile.

"Yeah," he rasps into the phone. "Set it up for Friday at ten."

After he hangs up, I don't hesitate in asking, "What's Friday at ten?"

"Interview," he states. "Still looking for another bartender.

"Oh yeah," I exclaim. "I never asked you about that. What happened with Lucas? You were pissed that day."

He chuckles dryly and leans his head against the headboard of my bed, closing his eyes. "I was already dealing with Reed's bullshit, and Lucas didn't help when he lied to me about a missing shipment. Sorry you had to see me like that."

I furrow my eyebrows in concern. "Is everything okay with Reed?"

He groans. "He wants to visit our dad."

"Really?" I gasp.

"Yep," he grunts, opening his eyes. "Asshole won't listen to a word I have to say about it. I'm tired of trying to talk him out of it."

"He'll have to make that choice on his own," I tell him. "Give him the chance to hear him out, and then let him decide if contacting him is worth it."

Austin grins wryly. "I can't protect him from everything. It sucks."

"You have the right to be concerned about him," I admit. "I don't know how Savannah's gonna take the news about our dad. I'm scared to tell her."

"She's strong enough to handle it. You both are," he says quietly. I shrug in response.

Suddenly, he grins. "We're damn good siblings, huh?"

I laugh, thankful for him and his ability to ease my mind. Life was so bleak and monotone before he came into it.

"I know, right? Where's our awards?"

——

A few hours after Austin leaves, I'm zipping though the living room with a trash bag in hand, disposing of the trash mom left behind.

I'm humming along to "Lovesong" by The Cure, when the front door opens and Savannah shuffles inside.

"Hey!" I call out. "How was school?"

She turns abruptly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I thought you had to work tonight?" she asks.

I just shrug, not wanting to go into detail about my departure from RJ's.

Instead I ask, "How's drama club going?"

Savannah visibly tenses. "Fine," she says slowly.

"Alright," I sigh, tossing the trash bag on the floor. I take a seat on the couch and pat the cushion beside me. She trudges over, a grimace on her face.

"What are you hiding?" I ask her seriously.

She doesn't even try to defend herself. Instead, she blurts out, "I'm not in drama club. I lied."

"I know you did," I chirp. "So what were you really doing?"

Savannah rolls her eyes in annoyance. She shakes off the straps of her backpack and brings it around, placing it in her lap. I'm stunned when she unzips it and produces an unmarked envelope.

"Here," she sighs.

I take it from her and peek inside. My eyes widen when I see that there's a shit ton of cash packed into it.

"Where the hell-"

She cuts me off. "I got a job at the grocery store on Main Street. The owner knows who mom is. I've been working there every day after school."

I gape at her. I almost want to laugh, because she sounds annoyed that she had to tell me, even though she knows her secret would eventually come out.

I choose my words carefully. "Do you like working there?"

Savannah's head whips towards me in surprise. "Wait, what?"

I sigh. "I want to be mad that you went behind my back, but I can't. We need the money, and you were so determined to help out. I get where you're coming from, wanting to chip in, so I guess I can't be too angry, but God, Savannah. You shouldn't have to."

"Neither should you," she defends. "You should be in your own apartment right now, studying for a college exam or something. But you're not. That's just the way it is. You do so much for me, and I want to return the favor."

God. Emotion claws at my throat.

"Thank you. This will really help out with the bills," I admit, albeit begrudgingly.

She smirks. "I know. So are you gonna keep letting me work there? I really like it."

"I guess so," I sigh. She whoops in excitement.

"But there's something else I need to talk to you about," I say seriously.

She frowns.

"Dina came by RJ's today," I say slowly. "Dad's sober, and he apparently knocked his mistress up. She's pregnant."

Savannah's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. I wait patiently, expecting her to blow up, or hell, even tear up. But she doesn't. She laughs. Loudly.

I sit there stunned.

"What's funny about that?" I demand.

Still howling with laughter, she clutches her sides and in between choked breaths, says, "Our life is a soap opera."

She's not wrong.

I shove her roughly, and say, "Seriously, Sav. Talk to me. I need to know what you're feeling."

She finally catches her breath and leans back against the couch. She sighs loudly. "I don't care anymore, Aria. I'm tired of wasting all of my energy on people who don't even fucking think about us. I just want to forget about him altogether."

I silently agree with her.

"We're going to have another sibling," I try to reason. "That's kind of life-changing."

She shrugs. "Sucks for the kid. Having Mark Adkins' DNA sucks."

She's not wrong.

"Why did I think you were the nice one?" I sigh in exasperation. She giggles again, but picks up her bag and heads to her room.

I head into my own room and hide the envelope of cash under my mattress, mentally configuring all of the bill payments that are quickly approaching. I can't believe it's almost October. Life has been a rollercoaster these last few months, and it's even harder to believe that I'm still holding onto my seat for dear life.

Barely, but I am. That's all that matters.

I pick up my phone and text Austin, letting him know how my conversation with Savannah went. The thought of whether or not to tell my mom the news enters my mind.

Maybe she already knows? I mean, Dina has a big mouth.

Ugh. Who the fuck knows. Either way, shit's going to hit the fan when she finally catches wind of daddy dearest's new addition.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I grin down at Austin's response.

The text gives me the motivation I need to mentally gear up for the impending doom that's sure to touch down in the near future. However crazy it's about to be, at least I have Savannah and Austin to ride out the storm with me.

——

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