A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.

Boat's POV

I would not have made it through the memorial services for my wife if my best friend Pitch had not been there to lend me some badly needed moral support.

None of my wife's relatives approached me to offer their condolences. Instead they all gathered around Gun and Gun's father and they were all chatting merrily away on one side while Pitch and I stood close by my wife's casket.

After the ceremonies were over, Pitch stayed with me while I grieved quietly and in private over my wife's grave.

"Let's go home," Pitch urged me when the sun was starting to go down and I continued to crouch beside the grave.

"You can stay with me for the night," Pitch offered.

It was as if he knew how I felt about going to that house where Gun stayed. He might have invited his father to stay there for the night.

"Thank you, Pitch," I said standing up from my crouching position. "I really appreciate all the support you have been giving me."

"That's what friends are for," he said as he walked towards where he had parked his car.

When we got to Pitch's house it was as if he knew what I wanted to do. He brought out a twelve pack of beer and a bowl of assorted nuts.

I chugged down the beer like it was water and like I had been parched for hours under the desert sun.

Funnily enough even after I had drank the last bottle I didn't feel tipsy at all. It was like the sorrow that I was trying to drown was too large to be overcome by a few bottles of alcohol.

"I think I should take a shower," I said, feeling the stickiness of my skin against the fabric of my shirt.

Then I realized that I didn't have any fresh clothes to change into.

"I'm gonna quickly drive over to my house to pick up some personal stuff," I told Pitch, already heading for the door. "I'll be right back."

"Are you sure you can drive safely?" Pitch asked, concern written all over his face.

"Of course I can," I assured him.

I quietly let myself in trying my best not to make any noise so as not to wake Gun or anyone else who might be with him in the house.

I tiptoed to my room and quickly gathered a few shirts and three pairs of pants, anticipating that I might want to stay at Pitch's house for more than just tonight.

I took a few more personal stuff and toiletries and placed everything inside a small backpack.

Before heading out the door, I decided to go to the kitchen to drink water from a tall glass.

I had just finished drinking the water and had placed the glass into the kitchen sink when I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around quickly to find Gun standing by the kitchen doorway observing me from head to toe.

"Why are you carrying a backpack?" he asked. "Where are you planning on going."

"I'm going where there is an absence of hostility," I told him, not really meaning to sound critical of him.

"Don't go," he said.

"What?" I wasn't sure what I had heard.

"Please," he added for good measure.

"Please what," I really was very puzzled and unsure about what was going on.

"You heard me," he said. "I'm asking you not to go. I'm asking you to stay."

I could not decide how to respond to him. Just a few days ago he had poked his finger right between my eyes and threatened me with the words, "My father and I are going to make you regret that you messed with our lives."

And now it seemed like he was making a hundred eighty degree turn and was begging me to stay in the same house as him.

Just what game was he playing at.

I stood for a few moments watching him intently, not saying a word.

Finally I said to him, "I can't stay here with you, Gun. I can't handle all the hostility that you and your relatives have been dishing out to me. I've had enough."

I made a move to leave but suddenly Gun was clinging to my arm.

"I need to confess to you why I have been behaving the way I did from the very beginning that I met you," I heard him say.

"I'm not sure that I want to hear it," I said, adjusting the backpack on my back and getting ready once more to leave.

"I'm gonna tell you anyway," he insisted, not letting go of his grasp on my forearm. "The reason that I have been hostile to you right from the start to the point of leaving the house for Sulawesi Island was because I was fighting my growing attraction to my own stepfather."

"What in  bloody hell, Gun!" I exclaimed, extricating myself from his hold and rushing out the door.