Cam and Dylan held Greg back, as he spat blood. Then he raised his head, eyes narrowed at Ethan. "She wanted it, you know? I told her I loved her and she fucking wanted it. It was that fucking easy. She was that fucking easy."

And this—this is the moment I lost control of the one thing I've tried my entire life to avoid. I may talk shit and want to punch people, but I never have. I never thought I would. Because in the back of my mind, I was always too afraid that I'd turn into him.

The second Greg's words left his mouth; I was on him. And I don't know how exactly I got to the point of my fist repeatedly slamming into his jaw, his nose, his mouth, his entire fucking face—but it did.

Suddenly, there were arms around mine and I was being pulled back, Jake's voice was in my ear. "That's enough, dude. It's done."

"You need to get him out of here." I told someone. Anyone. "And make sure he doesn't fucking come back. Ever."

"Done." Dylan deadpanned. He dragged that asshole out of the house, Cam following behind him.

And then I heard her.

Her sobs took over the room, and when I looked at her, my stomach dropped to the floor. She was huddled in a corner, her knees up to her chest, her head in between them. Her arms were crossed over her head, shielding herself, as she rocked back and forth, crying.

I moved closer to her. "Amanda," I tried to get out through the lump in my throat.

Slowly, her head rose to look up at me, eyes red. She was about to say something, but then her eyes snapped to Ethan, who was still sitting on the floor. She let out a sob and slowly, she crawled over to him, crying harder as she got closer. She wiped her face with her forearm and moved to sit it front him. Then she saw the blood on his hand and made a noise as she looked away. He removed his shirt, covered his hand with it, and then whispered something to her. She looked back at him and broke down, falling into him, while he wrapped his arms around her, saying something in her ear. She slowly nodded her head. He picked her up off the floor, cradling her like a child, as they walked into her room and closed the door quietly behind them.

I didn’t follow. I didn’t say a fucking word. Because in my mind, all I could think—is that it's my fault.

It's all my fucking fault.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, as something cold was placed on my hand. I looked down to see Lucy covering it with a bag of frozen peas. And then I remember everyone else was here.

"You all good, man?" Jake patted my shoulder.

I nodded, held the bag to my hand and sat on the sofa. "What the fuck just happened?"

***

I don't know how much time passed before Dylan and Cam came back in the house. "One of his boys just picked him up," Dylan stated.

"Yeah, you don't need to worry about him coming back either. D took care of it," Cam confirmed, taking a seat next to Lucy and putting his arm around her. She sank into him.

My mind was still buzzing from the adrenalin, and the pain in my hand had started to throb. My head rolled to the back of the sofa as my good hand rubbed my eyes.

I heard a door open and shut and whipped my head to the sound. Ethan came out of the hallway, shrugging on a new shirt. He stopped abruptly when he saw us all sitting around, waiting...I don't really know what for.

"How’s your hand?" He asked, as he got closer.

I glanced at his, "Not as bad as yours."

He shrugged. "She uh, she wants to see you." He jerked his head to her bedroom.

I took a deep breath in to calm myself. I don't know that I could see her. I don't think I'd have the right words to tell her how fucking sorry I was. For all of it. For being an asshole. For not calling her. For not being there. But mainly, for not being what she thought we could be. What she wanted us to be.

"We're gonna head out." One of the guys said. I don't know who because I was already walking towards her room.

I knocked lightly on her door and opened it. She lay in the middle of her bed, but slowly came to sit on the edge. I sat next to her, looking down at the floor.

Then I felt her soft hands on mine, removing the frozen bag. I jerked it away.

"Logan." It was barely a whisper.

I cleared the lump in my throat. "There's still blood, you can't see it."

"Whose?"

"Huh?"

"Whose blood is it?"

"I don't know." I still couldn't face her.

Silence.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

I shook my head.

"Look at me, please?" she pled.

So I did.

And then we were just staring at each other, trying to understand what this was. Where this left us. She looked at me so intently, her eyes boring into mine, that I think I forgot to breathe. I dropped my head again, too uncomfortable to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I let out the breath. "What?"

"Your hand..."

My mind was too filled with guilt for thoughts to make sense.

I felt her move closer to me. My head lifted to face her. She was biting her lip, watching me.

"It's my fault," I told her. Truth.

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please? I want it to be done."

I raised my good hand and held the side of her face, she leaned into it. I wiped her tears with my thumb. "Did he hurt you?"

She closed her eyes softly. "Honestly?" When she opened them, they were focused on me.