The boys were all meant to arrive home at varying points on Monday, except for Nico who was stuck abroad with his family. I woke up early in anticipation of their arrival; the entire weekend had been torture without them. I hadn't realised how much their voices and laughter and life filled up the empty spaces in the corridor and in every room. Without the Silent Boys and the rest of the Kings Bridge boys it was as if the life had been sucked out of the dorms taking my energy with it. I'd practically moped around, something even my dad had picked up on, my long mournful face as I anticipated the very moment they would all come back to me.

Just like he'd said Nico had called me, as had Mitch and Sawyer, the only one I hadn't heard from all weekend was Grey. I was terrified for him, and every ounce of my being missed him. The fact that there was no school only made my agitation worse as I had nothing to distract me from lying on the roof staring out at the driveway and watching car after expensive car fly up it searching for one that would contain one of the Silent Boys. With each passing moment my impatience only grew, I needed them here now.

My heart leapt out its chest when I finally saw a head of chestnut brown hair on a muscular body clambering out of a long black dark car with tinted windows that could only belong to one person. I swung myself back inside through the skylight and vaulted down the stairs five at a time.

"Mitch!" I was on him before he even had a chance to shut the car door, my arms hooked themselves around his neck and my legs knotted around his waist as I buried my head against the reassuring presence of his chest.

"Cara!" He seemed equally as pleased to see me and buried his face into my hair, "you won't believe how much I've missed you."

"Trust me," I insisted, "I would."

"No more being apart," Mitch laughed as I finally detangled myself from him and set my feet back on the ground, "it's bad for my health and for my looks," he pointed at his forehead, "you see these, worry lines."

I laughed but inside I was agreeing, I definitely didn't want to do anything that would harm his perfect looks.

"No more being apart," I nodded, "I think I can get on board with that."

"Uh huh," Mitch nodded in dramatic sternness, "I'm taking you home with me for Christmas."

I grinned inwardly before helping Mitch unload his case from the trunk and following him upstairs to his room barely containing my smile the entire time.

Now I had Mitch for distraction I spent the rest of the morning playing cards with him and listening to his stories of his younger sister Emily who he completely doted on. Both his parents were noticeably absent from his stories, he only referenced his mom once when commenting on how drunk she was, so drunk that she spilt red wine all down herself and threw up her thanksgiving dinner in the middle of their hallway.

"Your mom," I asked tentatively, Mitch still had the ghost of a chuckle on his mouth and I didn't want him to lose that but I had to ask, "why was she so drunk?"

Mitch hesitated for a moment before admitting in a quiet voice, "my dad spent thanksgiving with one of his array of flings. His secretary would you believe, could he be any more of a cliché? But he's never spent thanksgiving or any kind of holiday with one of his women before. Mom thinks it might be something different this time, he might actually have feelings for this woman. She's scared he's going to leave her."

"But he treats her like shit," I shook my head uncomprehendingly. But who was I to talk, I let someone treat me like shit for over a year and was never able to detach myself.

"He keeps her in a nice house and she can buy fancy handbags and be in with the other trophy wives," Mitch shrugged a cold expression washing over his face.

"Seriously?" I couldn't understand have someone could gave such material values.

"That's just who she is," Mitch sighed, "I only care about Emily though and how this is effecting her, she has to be in that house every day with them. She sees more than they think she does, kids are really intuitive about things like that."

"Poor girl," I shook my head sadly.

"Hey," Mitch reached over and stroked a hand up my arm, "it's not your problem. It will work its self out, there's always a light at the end. Your turn to deal."

"Don't think I'm going to go any easier on you," I warned with a sly smile as I let him change the conversation as I could tell he'd had enough.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," Mitch chuckled.

"No way Mitch!" A voice called out from behind me, "do you not learn from your mistakes, never play Cara at cards."

"Sawyer!" I was on my feet in an instant and clung onto him.

"Hi," Sawyer spoke almost shyly as he hugged me back.

"How was your thanksgiving?" I asked eager to take in everything about him. He looked just as stunning as I remembered, his dark skin was clear and his eyes their typical considerate pools of thought.

"So so," Sawyer shrugged, "it was nice to see all the family I guess." He didn't seem entirely sure of this which was strange, Sawyer was the one of us who could be relied upon to be on good terms with his family.

"Sorry to interrupt," a guy knocked on the door, I recognised him as Dennis Hooper, he was on the football team with Mitch, "but you've got to see this."

Dennis marched over to the window in Mitch's room and pointed out of it, the three of us joined him and I followed his line of sight to see the car that was just pulling up in front of the dorms.

"Shitting hell!" Mitch cursed under his breath.

A brilliant white brand new Lamborghini was parking on the gravel making the Rolls Royce's and Aston Martin's around it look look like pieces of scrap metal. I inhaled sharply as I saw the person who confidently swung their body out the car with a distinctive swagger. I was out the room and racing down to him before my mind could process what I was doing.

"Grey!" I cried hurling myself at Grey to incase him in a vice tight hug. The moment I was holding him I heard him let out a long deep exhale like it was the first time he'd been able to breath properly in days. His hand crept up to the back of my head and his fingers twisted themselves into my hair keeping me in place close to him.

"Cara," he moaned happily.

"Are you okay?" I stepped back so my eyes could roam over his body keenly. I needed to check that he was in one piece because I knew what that car meant. He looked fine from what I could see but most of his body was covered in clothes.

"Of course," Grey batted away as if it was never a question that he wouldn't be. I reached out to pull up his shirt but he caught my hand with lightening quick reactions, "woah Cara don't you think it's a bit public for that. You can undress me later if you want." He winked at me.

"Be serious Grey," I snapped, my fear was making me irritated.

"I'm fine Cara," Grey insisted but his fingers were wrapped protectively around the bottom hem of his tight white tee shirt telling me a very different story.

"Nice car," Mitch stated with a hard undertone to his voice, he was leaning against Kings Bridge's stone wall with his arms folded over his chest. He regarded Grey with disapproving eyes that barely masked his deep concern. This went against every protective and loyal bone in his body.

"Don't start," Grey hissed half warning, half pleading.

Suddenly Mitch started forwards and clasped Grey into a hug that seemed to catch everyone including himself by surprise. After a split second he pulled away but it was obvious, his love for Grey had won out over his annoyance. None of us could bare to have a go at Grey for accepting the flash car when we all knew the real price tag that came with it.

No one mentioned the gift from Grey's stepfather for the rest of the day, not even when Grey was giving a tour of the car to some freshmen. In some self deprecating way he seemed to be enjoying it, but all I could feel was a a writhing mass of snakes in my stomach every time I looked at the car as I pictured the array of bruises I knew would be across Grey's chest. I couldn't comprehend how he could stomach the car knowing it was brought with money that reeked of manipulation.

Later that evening when most of the newly returned Kings Bridge boys were gathered in the common room where Grey was explaining the various unique functions of the car including its impressive acceleration speed I caught sight of Sawyer slipping out of the room. I took the opportunity of the distraction to quietly slip out after him. I tailed him all the way to the music room but when he reached for the door handle he spoke without turning around;

"Cara, I know you're there," he spoke softly.

Well there went my career option as a spy, "sorry I didn't want to disturb you."

He turned around his eyes flashing, "you could never disturb me."

I gave a weak smile and joined him in entering the music room where a blissful silence shrouded the room in a sense of tranquility. Neither of us said anything as we sat on the piano stool and Sawyer laid his lean fingers across the keys. He inhaled deeply before diving into a mournful piece in the minor key that tugged tears to my eyes. Sawyer played with his entire body, pouring his emotions and bare soul out through his fingers onto the ebony and ivory keys that swelled around us and resounded throughout the beautiful room. Once he'd played the final devastating note a weighted silence hung in the air as we both absorbed what had just happened.

"How do you stomach it?" I broke the perfect silence with the question that had been gnawing away at my mind.

"Stomach what?" Sawyer asked but I knew he knew what I was talking about.

"Grey," I summarised, "the motorbike. The car."

"Grey doesn't want us to say anything," Sawyer sighed, there was pain in his eyes and I knew, like Mitch, it killed him to see his friend like this, "he doesn't think anything will happen if we tell someone. His stepdad is a famous and powerful man there's not a lot Grey could do that would have much impact and Grey is," he exhaled, "Grey. There's no changing his mind. So all we can do is help him as best as we can."

I pondered that, help him as best as we can. Was sitting around and watching the list of bruises Grey received from his stepfather grow ever long all we could do?

"I just feel so helpless," I breathed out.

"I know," Sawyer squeezed my hand, "we all do. But you're here for Grey and that's all that matters to him. He needs you Cara, you make him happy."