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here to see Evan, ma'am. If she isn't busy."

I wish I'd gone home to change. And had a shower. But 'home' is relevant at the moment, and the only place that feels like somewhere I belong is wherever Evan is. I know how I look, I know how I sound, but my head's been spinning for weeks, and I know, I know without a doubt, that seeing her will calm things down, put things to right.

"Evan is about to get ready to go on a date." The woman pulls the door half-closed and forces me back down the marble stairs. "A date with a gentleman who doesn't yank her young heart back and forth without a second thought. Shame on you."

She shakes a finger in my face, her light blue eyes full of fury, just like Evan's when she gets upset. "I know who you are, and I know what you've done to my granddaughter. I'm well aware that she may come off as a tough little cookie, but that couldn't be further from the truth. She has a delicate heart that's been used and abused more than it should have been in one young life. And your behavior just supports the idea she's always toying with; that she's not good enough. That she's not worthy of being loved."

"Ma'am, I know what I did. I know the mistakes I made. I'm here to--"

"I can imagine exactly what you're here for," she interrupts, her mouth pressed tight. "And I suspect you'll be back again if you have a mind to be, no matter what I say to you now. But listen to me. Listen to me right now. If you love her, if you even care about her a little, leave her alone. The two of you don't have what it takes to go the distance. She needs someone strong. Someone sure. That isn't you, son."

She gives me a long, dismissive look, steps back into the doorway, frowns, and clicks the door shut.

I consider my options. I could call her. Just dial her number and connect.

Or I could be dramatic and scream up to Evan, call her out and get her to come to her window, then explain it all to her. That I want to be with her. That I love her. That I'm finally, truly ready to change.

I could leave. I could leave and let her have whatever life she'll have with whatever guy she's with right now.

Just when I'm about to jump the fence into the back garden, my phone rings, the song rock-heavy and melancholy. It's Colt.

"What do you need?" I answer, my eyes still locked on her curtains, which haven't so much as fluttered. Does she know I'm here? Does she even care?

"Uh, Winch?" His voice is low, like he's whispering into the phone, like he doesn't want anyone to know he's calling.

The temperature of my blood dives.

I wanted to walk away from all of this, wanted to do better for Evan, but I know for sure that whatever he's asking for, it's not going to be easy to turn him down.

Walking away isn't simple. Even when you're taking baby steps.

"Winch? You there?" His words shake.

"I'm here. Tell me."

"It's Alayah. And Remy. They're...uh, they're gone. And he was in bad shape."

I'm back in my car in a few short seconds, the engine revved so loud, I finally see her, pulling the curtain aside and stepping on the balcony.

Just in time to watch me pull away.

Evan 14

"Tell him I can't go," I repeat to Gramma as I attempt to gently push past her and get to my car.

I stuck by the promise I made to myself, and I haven't contacted Winch or sought him out. His path to self-destruction might be on a fast-as-hell crash-course, but I'm not about to station myself in the cheering section.

But, he came to the house. Maybe because things really are different. Maybe because, this time, he did change. Maybe.

I don't know, but I need to find out. I'm an idiot to hold out hope, but I do. Something in me just can't let go of the hope that this will work itself out, even if I know I’m stupid to expect that.

"Evan, no. Evan, listen to me. Evan!"

The sharp jerk of my name from her lips roots me to my spot right by the front door, my hand on the doorknob. I look at her and twist my hands around my keys.

"I have to go to him."

I'm ashamed at how my voice wobbles.

She shakes her head and tucks a piece of my hair back into my ponytail. I'd been in the middle of straightening it when I heard Winch's car pull out like crazy. When I came out of my room, Gramma told me that he'd come here for me. And she told me that she sent him away.

Now my heart is desperate in my chest, like a bird crashing into a window over and over again, confused that it can't get to what it sees and wants, and willing to kill itself in the attempt to remedy that.

"You do not have to go to that boy. Evan. Listen to me." She smoothes her hands over my hair and down onto my neck. "You do not have to throw everything away for any boy. Or for your parents. Or for those backstabbing friends. Or the teachers who gave up on you." Her voice is sopping wet and about to overflow. "Please hear me out. Your mother never would listen, but you and I are the same, and I know you can understand this, love. Listen."

I swallow hard and decide listening will be the quickest option. I'm not about to run from this house and leave my grandmother standing in the foyer. Respect for her is coded into my anatomy. But so is general disobedience, and it bucks and kicks inside me, ready to burst through the door and find Winch. Find him and tell him...what I don't know, and, frankly,

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