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My lungs could hardly keep up with my panicked breaths as patrons barreled through the roller rink doors, newly privy to the fight that had broken out next door. To my horror, Tara, Whitney, and Scotty materialized around me.

Tara gasped.

Scotty grabbed my hand.

Whitney charged forward, shouting for Reed to stop, stop, stop.

“What the hell is going on?” Tara demanded, hysteria bleeding into her words.

I dragged my fingers through my hair, tugging it all the way back as I shook my head. “My father.”

In the next blink, Reed was being yanked to his feet by his arms by two other men as my father rolled onto his back, writhing on the ground, both hands covering his mangled face as one leg bent at the knee.

“You motherfucker,” Father howled. “I’ll have you arrested for this.”

Everything was a blur.

Pure chaos.

I could hardly see, hear, speak. All of my senses died out, leaving me blank and rooted in place.

I couldn’t say what unfolded next because I was in shock; all I’d remember was the look Reed sent me from across the footpath, his hair wild, eyes wilder, his knuckles cracked with blood. He stared at me for a potent heartbeat, saying more than he could ever convey with words.

I pressed a hand to my chest, curling my fingers into my ivory blouse and memorizing the galloping, unsteady beats of my heart—my own silent reply.

This man had just risked everything for me.

Everything.

And I wasn’t even his.

Hours later, Tara and I crouched at the top of the staircase, peeking through the railing as we watched the argument unfold down below. It was like we were two curious children trying to sneak a peek at Santa Claus coming down the chimney. My fingers curled around the wrought-iron posts while Tara pressed her temple to my shoulder and we huddled together.

We listened, watched, our breaths tangled in our throats.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Whitney seethed through gritted teeth.

They both paced the living room, back and forth, forward and back. Reed’s bandaged hands were linked behind his head, his split lip illuminated by the ceiling light.

“That piece of shit had it coming.”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested. You could have been thrown in jail, Reed!” Sweeping a hand through her hair, she stilled, then crossed her arms beneath her breasts as rivers of mascara lined her cheeks. “And for what? Some macho pissing contest?”

“That’s not what it was. I was protecting her,” he said firmly. “I’d do the exact same fucking thing for Tara.”

“I am protecting Halley.” She slammed a flat palm to her chest. “Me. I’m protecting her in the legal, non-violent way. Giving her shelter, love, and safety.” Her glare was sharp and cleaving. “That was not the way.”

“You do it your way, I’ll do it mine,” he shot back.

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“Loud and clear.”

Whitney let out a huff of disbelief, gaping at him with wide-eyed fury. “You pummeled a man nearly to death outside of a roller rink!”

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