Wynn

It's got to be a test.

Harris Galloway has either lost his mind completely, or he's deliberately having Cole and me work together to witness our connection firsthand. I'd place my money on option two.

I swing the black vest over my shoulders, cinching the belts tightly across my chest and abdomen. Luckily, I'm savage when it comes to laser tag—I can definitely hold my own. Zach, too. Harris picked a hell of a team.

My brother beams as he suits up, no doubt thrilled to be included by Harris the Great. We then slide past the clusters of opponents, guns in hand, making our way over to our teammates. Harris grins, fist-bumping Zach in welcome and Cole... Cole refuses to meet my eyes, causing my heart to lurch.

This is what you wanted.

It is for the best, especially right now as we're being observed by his father, for us to be at odds. He'll be at no risk of an ass-beating tonight, seeing as he won't even look at me. His demeanor makes everything crystal clear—he took my words to heart, and I've lost him for good.

Now he can move on. Just like he should.

"I can't get this damn thing to work," Harris huffs as he attempts to program his name into the computer. He seems genuinely excited about tonight, and he's so friendly that it's hard to imagine him being the demon he truly is behind closed doors. I can see that Cole enjoys this side of his father, which has me aching to my core. I guess every child wants affirmation from their parents.

"May I try, Mr. Galloway?" I ask politely.

"Be my guest." He steps away from the keyboard and I type in a name for him. Harris, Cole, and Zach then look to the board above, waiting for his name to show up to complete our team.

The Punisher.

The irony behind his name has not been lost on Cole, who casts a dark look in my direction, causing a shudder to ripple up my spine.

He's done with me.

Harris, however, laughs heartily in approval. "I like it!" he says, wrapping a heavy arm around my waist and tugging me into a friendly hug at his side. "Sounds menacing." Our gear clashes together with the gesture, and for a moment I can understand Cole's conflict. Harris seems so...normal. Kind even, but after seeing his handiwork on his son, I find it hard to imagine a world in which Harris could ever be a good person. I know without question that Cole has seen all the many sides of his father's Jekyll and Hyde persona—the lighthearted, the dark and the brutal.

"Aw, man," Zach groans. "I just did my real name. I want a cool one like Mr. Galloway."

"Too late," I say, smirking at my brother's bitterness, only to watch his shoulders slump as he rolls his eyes. Nothing like having a team full of people who hate my guts.

"Looks like someone fixed it," Cole says from behind me. It's the first I've heard him speak since Harris invited us to play.

"Hell, yeah!" Zach squeals when he sees his name on the board.

The Butcher

Cole high fives Zach as he grins from ear to ear, undoubtedly amused by my brother's enthusiasm. His smile has always made me melt and is part of what got us into this mess in the first place. I guess I won't need to worry about that anymore, considering the way his joy vanishes the instant I enter his line of sight.

A countdown begins over the intercom, and Cole's eyes brighten with anticipation. I watch as he and his father ready their weapons, both of them fidgeting anxiously and donning expressions that make it easy to picture a boyish innocence they've long forgotten.

The doors leading into the arena grate open, and all four teams take off. The room is dark, littered with structures of varying sizes and shapes covering the floors of the musty warehouse. While the other teams scatter in every direction, our team has chosen to stick together and sprint headlong toward higher ground, one after the next. At the top of the highest ramp overlooking the entire arena are two openings, perfect for picking off our opponents.

Harris points silently, waving us toward the game-changing lookout. We all huddle together, ducking low enough to conceal the hit points on our shoulders and chests from being targeted through the windows.

"Here's what I'm thinking," he bellows over the deafening techno the game operators have pulsating through the facility. "Two here, two there. Just take 'em out as they come along. We can see the base from here, so we should be covered."

Our squad nods in unison, and Zach wastes no time partnering himself with Cole.

Who still won't look at me.

I deserve to be ignored by him, but I don't have to like it. Initially, I felt sad, but now it's just pissing me off. I guess I'll just call it part of my stages of grief. I shoot a scowl at his back before turning to my own partner.

The reason I can't make Cole mine.

"Looks like it's you and me, young lady," Harris says. He flashes a bright white smile my way, guiding me over to our post. His strong hand rests on the back of my neck, and he squeezes it gently as I take a knee before the window.

"Alright partner," I reply returning his smile, though I fear it may have come across as more of a grimace. "Let's wreck these losers."

Harris chortles as I take my first shot and watches as the lights on my target's vest go dark from the hit. He pats me on the shoulder and raises his own gun to join the chaos. Back and forth we go, taking turns decimating the other teams. None of the other teams have managed to hit any one of us even once. In truth, it's kind of fun.

And I hate that I feel that way.

I kick myself, realizing that I'm actually reveling in Harris's approval just like everyone else always does. He hoots, clapping me on the shoulder each time I strike, and I find that I want nothing more than to up my game, to earn more of his damn praise. It's sick.

The man's charisma is off the charts. This is how he gets away with being the monster he has been since the first time he raised his hand to Cole. That reality alone is like a bucket of ice water. Suddenly, all I can see are the marks he left on the person I treasure most.

I decide to finish strong for him. For Cole.

I take aim at a kid who has been running around this arena like he owns the place when out of nowhere my insides whip within me like raging tides in the middle of a hurricane. I drop my gun to the ground, clasping my hand over my mouth.

I'm about to lose my dinner in about three...two...

I take off running down the ramp before making a mess for the basement-dweller employees to clean up. Busting through the exit, I scan my surroundings for a garbage can. I quickly spot one in the vicinity and throw myself over it, narrowly making the cut. Whispers and giggles surround me as I watch all of my insides land on top of the churro and popcorn stand remains.

I feel the hands of an empathetic onlooker, gently pulling my hair out of the blasting zone. My throat is on fire, and I grasp either side of the container to steady myself, imagining how pathetic I must look. My savior hands me a clean napkin, and I take it without hesitation, wiping my remaining misfortune from the corners of my mouth.

"Thank you," I say as I continue leaning over the defiled bin. My empty belly twists, and I sniffle as tears build in my eyes. My emotions have had a mind of their own lately, and I can't help but dread the truth that may lie behind my recent sensitivities.

"You okay?" His voice is full of concern, and his eyes soften when I meet them.

"Cole, you shouldn't have followed me out," I say. My voice sounds hollow as it bounces through the waste bin. I push myself up, standing to face him, and he releases the hair he'd rescued from the carnage. "Your dad—"

"Told me to make sure you're okay," he interrupts.

"Well, thanks. I'm fine," I say, smiling despite the tension. We feel off—unnatural, and I hate the strain of this interaction. This isn't us. I turn on my heel and make the short trek over to a nearby bench. I hear Cole's steps behind me, and he takes the empty seat next to me.

I see his hand resting on his leg, and it takes every shred of self-control I have not to grab it. I chose to end what we had, and I have no right to keep going back on it the way I have. The tears that were brimming leak down my cheeks, and he shifts in place to face me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His concern is genuine, but I can't possibly tell him all that's weighing on my mind.

"I am... I just..." My voice is quiet and pathetic. I hate that I've lost control, and I hate that despite how I've treated him, he remains steadfast. "I'm so sorry, Cole," I finally manage.

He places his hand on my knee, the feel of his long fingers familiar. In this moment, I'm so desperate for him to know that I never meant what I said to him. Still, it's dangerous for him not to believe it.

The problem is, I can't be without him... not entirely.

"I don't want things to be like this between us," I admit. His blue eyes sear through me, and I feel the familiar vulnerability that only he can draw out of me. "I know we can't be together, but I miss you. I miss my friend."

Cole nods once, contemplation and pain plain in his features. "You want to be friends?"

"I really do, Galloway," I say quietly. "We can do that at least...right?"

He considers my offer, taking longer than I think is necessary. "You've got yourself a deal," he says finally, offering his hand for me to shake. I place my hand in his, and we strike a new accord.

Friends.

It's already awkward, and it hasn't even begun...

"Ohhh..." I groan in disgust. "I just remembered where my hands were.".

"You always have hand sanitizer," he laughs as I wrinkle my nose.

"Yeah, but it's in my purse," I grouse before realizing that Cole was thoughtful enough to grab it from the cubby where I left it before the game.

"I know," he says, smiling as he unzips my bag.

I practically maul him, wrenching it from his grasp. "It's hard to find stuff in there!" I lie. He throws his hands up in surrender, eyeing me suspiciously. His distrust is palpable, but I choose to ignore it, quickly changing the subject as I bathe my hands in sanitizer.

"How are things going with Colby?" I ask, and he shifts uncomfortably. I hold up the bottle in offering, squirting some into his palm when he extends his hand.

"Um..." His eyes scan the facility as he fumbles with the chipping paint on the bench. "Things are fine, but she seems distracted a lot. I guess I have been too. I like her though."

The truth stings and it makes me angry at them both, even though I know it's unreasonable to feel that way, I really do. They'd actually be perfect for each other if they didn't have Wyatt and me constantly putting ourselves in their paths.

"You should try a grand gesture," I suggest, immediately cursing myself for blurting it out. It's the type of thing Colby would love. I'm simply digging a deeper hole for myself. But if I want what's best for Cole, for Colby, I've gotta get the hell out of the way.

"A grand gesture? Like what?"

"I dunno," I admit. "Just making a suggestion as a friend." I smile, and he rewards me with one of his own.

"Okay, I'll think about it. Thanks, friend."

"Anytime," I say, giggling. "Listen, I think I'm gonna head home. I still feel a bit queasy." I clutch my purse tightly to me, rising to my feet.

"Let me at least walk you to your car," he says, standing and offering his arm.

Always the gentleman.

"I'm really okay," I affirm. "I'll see you at school."

...

It's time.

I arrived home to an empty house, as usual, and headed straight to the bathroom. I'm no longer sick...it's just time to face the truth. I've been putting this moment off for a while. Denial I think is what they like to call it.

We were safe. We were always safe.

I drop my purse on the counter, rifling through its contents until I find it.

A freaking E.P.T. Thank goodness Cole didn't see it when he opened my bag...

I remove the pregnancy test from the box, reading the directions carefully and praying like I've never prayed before.