The clouds were almost black as I drove myself and Alex back to my apartment. I knew the downpour would start soon.

I would have said that the car was silent as I drove, but that wouldn't exactly be true. Neither of us said anything, but Alex's harsh, ragged, uncontrolled breath sent daggers through my heart.

I almost wished he would yell about whatever it was that had made him so angry. Anything would be better than the quiet, white-hot rage that radiated off of him.

We got to my apartment, and thankfully I didn't have to convince Alex to get out of the car. Emilia was at an art show, so we had the place to ourselves and I could hopefully get some answers out of him.

But not right that second. After entering the apartment, I took Alex's injured hand to examine it, but he jerked it away. Not before, however, I could feel how he was physically shaking, even now.

"Okay, just wait here for a moment," I told him quietly. I went into my bedroom and rummaged through my dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that I had worn home from a night with Alex at some point.

"Here." I held out the clothes to him, but he didn't take them. He just stared into the floor, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Alex." I spoke as gently, but also firmly, as I could. I took his hand and put the clothes into his grip. "I don't know what you need to do right now," I said. "But you should go clean up. Take whatever time you need. I'll be here when you come out."

He looked at me for the first time, and it shocked me to the core that despite his breathing and shaking, his eyes were hollow. He closed his fingers around the t-shirt and sweatpants and then disappeared into the bathroom.

As soon as I heard the water turn on, I allowed myself to back up against the wall, leaning on it as I took in my own deep breaths. Okay. Okay okay okay.

I went back into my room, changing out of my work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I threw my hair up into a bun and then went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door just as the first rumble of thunder came from the clouds above.

Alcohol probably wasn't a good idea, but sugar probably was. I grabbed a couple of cans of coke out of the fridge and then pulled out a container of steak and potatoes that I had taken home for the bar a couple of nights ago. It wasn't much, but it would do, and I didn't have the energy to actually make something.

I put the food down on the coffee table and then sat down on the couch, crossing my legs under me and chewing on my thumbnail. I listened as the shower continued to run, the sound of falling water eventually joined by raindrops against the roof.

I heard the water turn off.

The door opened and I stood up, anxiously examining Alex as he came out, trying to get an idea of what his mood might be. Honestly, other than damp, he looked pretty much the same.

I sank back down to the cushion as he approached, but he remained standing. His muscles were clenched and his jaw hardened. He was still so agitated, and I had no idea what to do.

"Alex," I finally said. "Talk to me. Please."

He closed his eyes, his face screwed up in pain. "They think that they can just—" His voice was shaky, and it broke after just a few words. "There's a fucking reason why I left," he sounded like he could barely get enough air in, "and they just, fucking hell. FUCK!"

I flinched slightly as he finally let out a yell, turning around sharply on his last word and slamming his hand into the doorframe that led into the kitchen. He stayed turned around, leaning against the wall, his head bowed and entire upper body heaving.

I slowly got up and approached him. Tentatively, I reached out and placed one of my hands on his shoulder. Alex flinched slightly at the touch, but when he didn't pull away, I tightened my grip, my hand firm on his shoulder. After a moment, Alex's hand that wasn't holding onto the wall reached up and gripped mine, holding on like it was his lifeline.

I put my other hand on his other shoulder and then rested my forehead against his back, in between his shoulder blades. I wasn't sure it was helping much; he remained clenched up and shaking. But he didn't seem to want to move away, so I stayed.

Eventually, Alex's hand on the wall dropped and he stood up straight. I took a few steps back and he turned around. "I can't fucking handle this, Ana," he whispered.

I took one of his hands, the injured one, and held it between both of my own. "Come here," I said gently. Now, Alex allowed me to lead him over to the couch, and he sat down facing me, although he stared at the floor.

For a moment, I didn't think he was going to tell me anything.

"My sister's name was Violet."

I sucked in a silent breath at his use of past tense.

"She was four years younger than me, just turned twenty-one." Alex ran his hand through his hair and down his face. "And she couldn't deal with how we lived.

"I come from money, Ana. A lot of money. I know you've pieced some of that together, I mean," he scoffed, "look at the house I fucking live in right now. But it's a lot bigger than just a house. My parents own a lot of Manhattan real estate. My family's rich. Really rich."

Jay's comments about Alex slumming it here were starting to make a lot more sense. But I didn't say anything, just waited for Alex to continue.

"And I know, I know, poor little rich boy." Bitterness and hatred rang in his voice as he spit out the words. "What do I have to complain about? Because honestly, I loved having the money. I could be as stupid as I wanted to without any consequences, party whenever I wanted, girls, alcohol, everything. That's who I am, Ana. A spoiled little rich boy who thinks he's invincible."

It took everything in me to keep quiet at that moment. I didn't know how Alex used to be, but I also knew there was so much more to him than just 'a spoiled little rich boy.' Even if that's all he used to present, I had seen so much more.

"But Violet?" He let out a mirthless laugh. "She hated it. Hated it. I relished in the fact that whenever my parents were out of town, which was pretty much half the days of the year, I could do whatever I wanted, have the biggest parties, because there was always a housekeeper to clean up after me. But Violet hated that they were always leaving, leaving us to be raised by staff. She hated the girls she went to school with, the expectations on her to always look perfect. She hated everything.

"The funny thing is, we were actually close despite all of that. Whenever I wasn't too busy being a fucking idiot, we hung out. We watched movies together, we cooked together, we made fun of all of my parents' friends together. Maybe I never admitted it to myself at the time, but she was my best friend. In some ways, she was my only friend. Everyone I hung out with was probably just around me for the money and advantages of having rich, well-connected parents."

Alex paused, closing his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright. "But I wasn't around enough. I did my own thing and hung out with a bunch of fucking jackasses, and she was alone. For so much of the time. So she had to figure out her own ways to cope."

Alex hung his head and pulled his hand away. "I don't know when she started doing drugs, but I found out when I came home from college in between my second and third years. She was sixteen.

"She made me promise not to tell our parents, and given that they really had never done much parenting, I agreed. But then I wasn't home that much, and then she was at college and I was busy working under my dad in his company, that I didn't know how bad it got."

He shook his head. "Or maybe I just didn't want to know. Maybe I was just ignoring the obvious signs."

Alex stopped. His head was still bowed, but I'm pretty sure he started crying. Cautiously, I reached out and took his hand again.

"I found her." His voice cracked. "I found her," he repeated. "I was going to my parents' place to pick up some stuff from my old room. They were away, Paris, I think. And she was there."

He sniffed. "I called 9-1-1, I tried CPR even though I'm not properly trained, but it was too late. Way too late."

Alex suddenly gripped my hand. "And the worst part is, she called me that night." His voice was hollow. "But I was trying to hook up with some girl and didn't answer. If I had just answered..."

"Hey." I interjected for the first time. "Don't do that to yourself, Alex."

He didn't agree or disagree, but he did keep going. "The EMTs and police came, I gave my statements, they pretty much knew it was an accidental overdose. I spent part of the night wandering the city, but then I just went back to my apartment, packed up a few things, got in my car, and started driving. I kept to the coastline, drove through town after town. Honestly, I'm amazed that I didn't get into an accident." He paused. "I think maybe part of me wanted to get in an accident."

I took a deep breath, my heart constricting at his words. "How'd you end up here?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Drove through town, saw the 'For Sale' sign, thought why not? I had the money, so..."

Over the time of telling me his story, Alex had stopped shaking, the anger dying in his eyes. But now he just looked empty.

"So, then how did you end up working for Coral Brews?" Something still wasn't quite adding up.

He swallowed hard. "I was here for two weeks before I walked into Coral Brews," he said. He paused, pressing his lips together. "I didn't leave that house for two weeks," he said, his voice dropping until it was almost a whisper. "I had my groceries delivered, but most of those groceries were bottles of whiskey. I sat there and I drank. And drank. And I'm fucking ashamed."

"Hey," I said, leaning forward but he waved me off.

"And then one day I woke up. I was on my stomach, on the couch, and there was a pool of vomit on the floor next to me."

My heart sped up, pounding in my chest.

"I would have died, Ana," he said flatly. "I don't remember throwing up, so if I hadn't been on my stomach when I was asleep, I would have died."

Silence fell between us. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to cry, I wanted to reach inside of him and take out all of the hurt. But there wasn't anything I could do. All I could do was sit there and feel terrified.

"I didn't want to die," he said simply, and a small part of me relaxed. "So I went for a walk. Saw the sign in the window saying you were hiring for the summer, and, honestly, I don't know why I went in. But I did, and well, you know the rest."

We sat together, listening to the rainfall and thunder boom in the distance. He halfheartedly opened up the now room-temperature leftovers and picked up a potato.

"What happened today, Alex?" I asked him gently. I hated to press, but I really did need to know.

Anger sparked in his eye again, and I almost regretted my question. "I told my mom I was here only so she wouldn't worry," he said, a noticeable bite to his words. "They weren't supposed to find out, and they weren't supposed to show up. I can't," he stopped, seemingly unable to continue, "I can't stand them. They're rude, and disgusting, and they represent everything about my life that I want to get away from."

It wasn't exactly an answer to my question, but he also didn't seem like he was done.

"They were talking about her," Alex said, his voice shaking again. "But not like, not like in any good way. About how they got laid after her funeral and how they used to party with her and how they thought she was hot. I don't even know how anyone could say things like that," he spat. "So I hit him."

I stared at him in disbelief, my mouth open in shock. "That's fucking disgusting." It was the only thing I could think of to say, and quite honestly, it was the only thing appropriate to say.

Another bought of silence. "Did I screw everything up, Ana?" His voice changed again, from anger to misery.

"What are you talking about?" I gathered both of his hands in mine.

"You, Coral Brews, my life here?"

I shook my head. "No," I said simply.

He let out a cynical laugh. "You're telling me your dad isn't going to fire me for assaulting a customer?"

"Well," I tilted my head back and forth, "he doesn't exactly need to...know about what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, Alex, you're not the first staff member to hit someone, and I doubt you'll be the last. Everyone knows to let me tell my dad when things happen, and if I don't tell him, well, he always told me that he doesn't need to know everything, so. It's kind of an unspoken agreement amongst everyone."

"I don't deserve that."

"Hey." I might not know exactly what he was going through, but I did know the level of hurt he was experiencing. "Look at me. Look at me."

He did as I asked, but his eyes still looked empty.

I opened my mouth, but words didn't come. I knew from experience, no one could say anything that would do anything to help. I closed my mouth and sighed.

I stood up, pulling him with me. I could tell that at this point, he had been so angry and agitated for so long, that all of his energy had left him. I led him into my bedroom and pulled back the covers on my bed. "Lie down," I told him.

He did as I said, lying on his side and closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow. I threw the covers over him and then quickly climbed in on the other side, lying on my side behind him. I wrapped my arms around him, gently kissing the back of his neck.

Alex was stiff as a board for a few seconds, but then he relaxed back into me, letting out a shuddered breath, but then his breathing evened out.

"Get some rest," I whispered. It was barely six, but time didn't really mean anything at this point. We were both exhausted. "I'm here, okay? I'm here."