Fuck.

I fucked up.

I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping her confession a secret. But somehow, I did the wrong thing. I couldn't even be bothered with Wesley for telling her the truth. He cared about her; he loved her and it made sense why he sided with her in this. I'm such an idiot. I couldn't even speak when she confronted me.

Not until she was walking away from me, and I felt like my world was crashing down. Davina's stubbornness would be the death of me, but it's one of my favorite traits about her. Or her headstrong attitude which could come off bitchy from an outside view, but she's just a woman who knew what she wanted.

My chest ached. Davina needed time. I knew that, but it freaking hurt to sit in the lobby waiting for my father instead of sorting this out with her. For the past two days, my mind was a spiraling black hole with the new update, but it couldn't be anymore clearer I would do anything for that girl. Even if it meant staying away until she digested everything.

My phone vibrated in my jean pocket.

Dad- Outside, son.

Reluctantly, I stood up from the cushioned couch and walked to his rusty old black Ram truck. This vehicle was laced with tragic memories. Like my forehead leaning against the window with blood pouring out, like when he locked me out of the house on a snowy night and I hid in the car, freezing my ass off. The next morning he tried strangling me in this car.

Anxiety bubbled in my gut as I pulled the door open. If I'm being honest, I didn't feel comfortable sitting in here, but I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing. As if my feelings even mattered. They never had before.

"Hey Dad, I brought coffee," I said, handing over the cup for it, only to slip from my grip.

The coffee spattered all over the gearshift, cup holder, and radio. Alarm flickered in my head like flashing sirens used for a warning. My father exhaled deeply, folding his hands over his chin in prayer motion. Anticipation coiled my gut as I observed his reaction, growing sweater by the second.

I searched through the glove compartment in frenzy motion, hoping to find tissues. He slammed the compartment inches away from my fingertips, and I flinched back, feeling my heart pumping a million miles per second. Foreseeing the worst, my arms reached over my head as a defensive mechanism and leaned closer to the window.

He's going to hit me.

Minutes passed and nothing.

Slowly, I withdrew my arms and watched as Dad used a dirty towel to clean up the mess. His face grew haggard with worry when our eyes connected.

"What? I'm not going to hit you over some fucking spilled coffee. Take it easy and put your seatbelt on," he said, chucking the towel in the backseat.

"O-okay."

It got harder to breathe by the second as if I dropped a two-hundred-pound weight on my chest. That's a lie. I dropped a bar when I was doing a chest rep and it didn't hurt as much as being in this car did. All I could picture was those blazing eyes and red cheeks that made me flinch. Even as I grew stronger, and weighed more than my father, it's like my body lost all motivation when he struck.

Around him, I'm always going to be that pitiful little boy who took every blow without a single sound.

"Lighten up!" He chuckled, bumping my shoulder with his fist. "Where's your girlfriend? You might be twenty-three, but we want to meet her and see if she's good enough for my boy. What happened to that other chick? The skinny brunette that stole you from our house?"

My brows furrowed at his random input on my love life. "Skinny brunette?" With this panic, I couldn't figure out who the heck he was talking about.

"Seriously." He raised his brow. "The hot chick from high school who brought you that plate of food. She had the tightest ass I've ever seen, reminded me of your mother... You know, in her prime years." he chuckled as if it was the funniest thing he heard in years which in all honesty probably was since he's been high on alcohol.

His laughter made my skin crawl. "I don't appreciate you objectifying Lana like that."

Dad's chuckle died. "Fuck man, are you a feminist or some shit? It's a fucking joke! Can you take a chill pill and have a good time with me?"

My nose wrinkled at his statement. "I don't have to be a feminist to know women should be treated with respect. Lana is pretty but there is much more to her than she looks the same goes for Davina. If we have another dinner together, I don't want you saying things like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Fucking buzzkill..." he muttered under his breath.

Silence enveloped us like a suffocating blanket and I couldn't wait until we reached the storage cell so I could get away. The only sound was the country music booming through the radio, and my father's constant tapping of his finger on the steering wheel made me uneasy.

Dad lowered the radio. "I'm thinking about creating this business with my buddy from AA, it seems to have good potential. I just need to figure out where to get the money from my end."

"That's good. It will help you from relapsing, again."

His eye grew darker, drilling holes in my head. "Yeah with my shitty office job it'll probably take years to fund it."

I pursed my lips. "Oh."

"Goddammit, do I have to go all out and ask you?" He groaned, raking his fingers through his matted hair. My silence was the only answer he needed. "I was wondering if you could you know... help your old man out?"

My brows pinched together. "Um... how much do you need? Like a hundred dollars?"

He scoffed. "One hundred thousand."

My eyes bulged from their sockets. "One hundred thousand? That's really asking a lot from me."

His irises flashed a hint of vulnerability. "I know... I've been a shitty father for your whole life but I'm trying to get better. I think this investment will throw me over the top and I can be the father you always wanted." He squeezed my shoulder causing me to jump in my chair. "I just wanted to throw the idea out there. You can think about it and let me know."

Onee hundred grand? How could I trust an alcoholic with that kind of money? Every dollar I made as a teenager went to their addition. How do I know that won't happen again? Besides, I finally have enough money to stay afloat for a year or two as I acted on my new ambition. With the impending half million in my bank account, I thought about purchasing a restaurant and making my childhood dream come true.

He was a shitty father. He still is a shitty father. But do I swoop down to his level by treating him badly? It's only one hundred thousand dollars. But what about next time? If I handed him money once he's going to expect it for the years coming, and I had to look out for myself.

"Alright, I'll think about it," I responded, flatly.

As we drove past the wilderness, we finally reached a populated area with famous franchises in every corner.

"Do you want to get ice cream like old times?" My father flashed a lopsided grin.

"Like old times?" My lip twitched. "You mean after you hit me?"

His eyes narrowed into silts. "I should hit you for this immature snappy attitude you had all morning."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Sorry. I had an issue this morning, and I guess I'm placing all the anger on you. I'll be down for some ice cream if you're up for it?"

"The best idea I heard all day, son."

Surprisingly, their storage closet contained more furniture than I remember from our house. It seemed intact, unlike our crusty, old couch my father threw up on. Or our moldy tiles on the bathroom walls allowing for bugs to seep through.

The truck was crammed to the brim with the tip of a wooden table leg lightly tapping the back of my head. They were shipping everything off to their new apartment in Long Island. My parents were going to go back and settle down then planned another visit so they could meet Davina.

They're really fixated on meeting her. Which made completely absolutely no sense since they had ignored her during our first meeting butt whatever floated their boats, I guess.

I missed her. It's only been a few hours but I wondered how she was doing. If Wesley was making her laugh because all I ever did was make her upset. She uploaded a video onto her Instagram of Wesley dropping wine on the pan and causing fire to burst in the air. Her giggles were heavenly, and I could imagine the crinkle in her eyes that always made me smile like a lovesick boy.

Fuck... I have to talk to her today. I wasn't planning on going another day with my feelings withheld even without her discovery. The only reason I hadn't said anything was that I had organized the most romantic gesture I could think of for her tonight. What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic and wanted to sweep her off her feet.

Annoyance flew over my features as I received a call from Milo taking my attention away from my gorgeous screensaver. "Hey, Milo, what's up?"

"You haven't seen or heard from Davina, have you?" Milo asked, concern laced in his tone.

Panic swelled in my chest. "Not since this morning but she's hanging out with Wesley in the studio. Is something wrong?"

"Shit..." Milo whispered.

I gripped the phone tighter. "What? Milo? What's happening?"

"The fire sirens went off and apparently it's coming from the studio. Everyone had to evacuate their room but Davina and Wesley aren't there. The firefighters haven't arrived yet," Milo informed me.

Misery lodged in my throat. "I'm on my way."

Please don't let anything happen to her. Please don't let anything happen to her. Please don't let anything happen to her. Fright gripped at my insides, and I couldn't stop imaging the worst repercussions. Operating on pure reflex, I jumped in the driver's seat and honked the horn outside the main store.

"Dad, hurry up! Davina is in trouble, I need to go," I breathed, my heart sprinting in my chest.

After rushing to drop my Dad off, I borrowed the car and drove at breaking record speed at eighty miles per hour. My heart sprinted like the hare did in the race. This was the most reckless I've been on the roads but I couldn't waste another second without finding out if she's okay. I don't think I even parked the car right but I couldn't function correctly with all this fear.

The flaring orange flames were only growing larger, and the building was basically nonexistent from how intense they were. Several firefighters were aiming and dousing the flames in sodium bicarbonate. For a few hellish seconds, I watched the building burn until Davina popped into my mind again.

"Milo!" I shouted, using my hands as a funnel to project my voice louder. "Milo!" Panic trickled my throat. "Milo!"

"Ambrose!" He yelled, raising his hand among the midst of people watching the building losing its life.

"Where is she? Where's Davina?" I asked panicky searching through the horde of people.

A momentary look of discomfort crossed his face. "I-I don't know. A few firefighters went in to search for them... but I don't know..."

My heart plummeted to the floor. "We have to find her! I'll go in, I'll go look for her." I stated, hastily shoving through the pedestrians until an arm latched onto my wrist.

"Ambrose, you can't walk into a burning building!" Milo said, seriousness gleaming in his irises.

"Why the hell not? It's not any better than standing here and waiting. I can't... I need to go look for her." Urgency dipped over my tone.

Milo's face dropped, his worried line becoming more prominently. "Davina isn't going to want either of us to risk our lives for her. I know it's hard but we just have to wait and see what happens."

"I can't." I sniffled. "If I was in there, I have no doubt Davina would bounce right into the building to look for me. I have to... no I want to do it."

Milo sighed, loosening his grip from my sleeve. "I tried."

Logic was thrown out the window. All I knew was if Davina wasn't okay I don't know how I'm going to go on knowing our last moments together ended on bad terms. It happened the night when Lana dumped me, and I treated her like garbage out of anger. It took months but I went back and fixed it. How could I be so dense to make the same mistake here?

Before I could dash up the stairs, two firefights on opposite sides planted their hands over each other and stopped me in my place. "Sir, you can't go in there. It's too dangerous. Just wait outside like rest."

"My girlfriend is in there," I said, trying to move.

Their expression grew tighter. "Sir, I get the frustrations but we cannot allow you to enter. Just let the professionals do their jobs and we will do everything we can to find her."

I was about to retaliate until the Universe answered my prayer. The free fall of relief that washed over me from seeing Davina unharmed. The firefights had her arms over their shoulders, helping her to the ambulance. Welsey followed behind, his glasses smudged with black smoke.

My body moved for me and I shot from the stairs to the back of the ambulance. Raking my fingers through my hair, I grabbed Davina's wrist, turning her hand over to look for burn marks. A paper towel was wrapped around her palm, and I knew it had to be a burn mark. Her cheek and forehead were spattered with a black smudge and she coughed her lungs out until firefighters brought water to her.

It's incredible how quickly life changes. Two days ago, I was oblivious to my feelings for Davina. Two weeks ago, I was unaware of Davina's feelings for me. Two hours ago, I was happily supporting Davina from the sidelines but I couldn't do it. I'm crazy about her. I almost jumped in fucking burning building for her.

I had to fight for her.

"What the hell happened, D?" I asked, welcoming a rush of irritation snake its way into my belly.

Her gaze met mine, pale as a ghost, and dammit I felt horrible for raising my voice after a traumatic experience. "I-I-I don't know. It happened so fast. One second, Wesley was bandaging my hand because I burned it, and then next flames erupted from the pan."

"Alright, whatever." One hand cupped her cheek protectively and planted a quick peck on her forehead. "I'm just happy you're okay."

And this time Davina I wasn't going to go down without a fight.