Hazy morning sunshine filters through my room. The light isn't blinding or bright, but it pulls me from my warm, sleepy cocoon-like state. My eyelids flutter open as I glance over, instinctively, checking to see if there's anyone beside me.

Cruz is nowhere in sight.

Disappointment sets in. I feel bummed to be... alone. Stupid of me, I know.

I sigh and let my gaze drift aimlessly around the room. The heaviness of sleep lifts away little by little. My mind clears slightly. When I spy my phone on the end table, however, my chest seizes up, and a punch of anxiety hits me hard.

I'm very awake, all of a sudden, and I recall Brody's threats all over again.

Damn it.

This shit isn't going to sort itself out.

I plant my face into my pillow, head-in-sand style like an ostrich, as though this alone can block out my reality. 

My mind spins away.

What to do?

What to do?

Thoughts begin to sway in one direction over the other. I twist my hair between my fingers, my heart rate speeds up, but, unlike last night, I don't think this new set of nerves has anything to do with confusion or helplessness.

No, I feel antsy because I'm about to make a big decision.

In the light of day, my mood feels less muddled. I know what I want, I know what I don't want, and, honestly, I want this nightmare to blow over, and I don't want to press charges at all. I also know, in an ideal world, my way of thinking is wrong. I'm supposed to stand up for myself, to fight for justice, to punish Chrissa and Brody and let the whole world judge them for what they did to me—

Unfortunately, that's not how the real world works, and I don't have the time or energy or money for this kind of fight.

Graduation is a few months away. Once I'm eighteen, I'll be in New Jersey with Persie, and none of this will matter. At this point, the only legal battle I'm interested in going balls-to-the-wall for the fight to become my sister's guardian. This is why I'm reluctant to get tangled up in some court case that might force me to stay in Arizona for months, maybe even years, on end.

My mind sets.

I just have to accept my fate and wade through some shitty, shitty shit for a while. Then, I'll be with Persie, and Chrissa and Brody will become blips in my life that I can forget about.

I'm not scared of them, you know?

I'm pretty sure that I have thick enough skin to withstand whatever Chrissa and Brody throw my way. Everyone at school already thinks I'm a slut. I don't have much to lose.

Brody says they have photos and videos?

Fine!

Bring it!

If they want to come at me, then I'll tell Luke Austin all about their dirty little secret.

I'm ready!

We can all go down in flames together!

At this moment, my ego soars. Bravado sings through my veins. I feel good about my decision.

Or do I?

My badass bitch mode lasts all but two seconds. Within the same minute, my confidence wavers. A jarring thought pops up. I suddenly remember that someone else's ass is also on the line.

Cruz.

I don't want Brody and Chrissa to go after him. I don't want him to get dragged through the mud with me. Suddenly, I'm back to square one. I don't know what to do.

Maybe I should keep my mouth shut about Chrissa and Brody, and they'll actually leave us alone?

For now, this seems to be the safest op—

A dinging sound interrupts my train of thought. I peer at my phone. It's a text from Cruz.

The Spawn: You up?

I message back: yeah

The Spawn: Can I come in?

He probably wants to finish our conversation about Brody.

I reply again: sure

Seconds later, my door opens. Cruz comes in. He's still wearing the same pair of joggers from last night, but he remembered to put a shirt on this time.

Boo.

He closes the door and nods at me. "Hey."

I nod back. "Hey."

Cruz walks over to my bed and takes a seat beside me. He seems comfortable enough in my presence now, and I feel surprisingly at ease around him, too.

I glance at him. "Thanks for staying with me last night."

His expression softens. "Did you sleep okay after I left?"

I hum quietly, "Mm-hmm."

Cruz coughs. "If you need me again, just ask, okay?"

My brow lifts. "Really?"

He's being so... nice. Each time, it catches me off guard.

Cruz shoots me a pointed stare. "Why do you look surprised?"

Frowning, I mumble, "I guess... I'm still not used to seeing this other side of you?"

It's weird how quickly things shifted between us after Sam's party. In a way, I'm still reeling from the night and day difference in our relationship.

What are we now, anyway?

Friends?

I don't really know.

Arching his eyebrow at me, he asks, "What other side of me?"

I explain matter-of-factly, "This non-douchey side of you."

Cruz grimaces and fires back, "You know what?"

"Hmm?"

"I admit, when we first met, I thought you were gonna be just like your aunt."

I wrinkle my nose and scoff, "Just like my aunt? In what way?"

"You know, kinda greedy, sorta self-centered, and... not very likeable."

I wince at his honesty, muttering, "Wow, thanks. No need to hold back for my sake."

He doesn't hold back at all, "I mean, from what I've seen, Katrina isn't exactly hard to read. I doubt she'd be marrying my dad if he wasn't a doctor. No offense."

I'm a little offended. Ron's money might be important to Aunt Katrina, but I think she cares about him, too, in her own shallow way. At the end of the day, it's far from comfortable to hear someone badmouth a family member. 

I make a feeble attempt to defend my aunt, "I mean, nobody's perfect, right?"

"Right, but..."

"What?"

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make."

I frown. "What did you actually wanna say, then?"

Cruz averts his gaze. "I feel like... maybe... I misjudged you."

I blink. "Really?"

Moments ago, I assumed Cruz came to talk to me about Chrissa and Brody. I wasn't expecting him to open up about anything else.

Damn.

This boy keeps surprising me.

"I guess, I was already biased because of your rep at school, but I realize, now, you're not like Katrina at all."

I snort. "No shit."

"Also..." He hesitates again, refusing to look at me.

"Yes?"

"I know I've been acting like an ass around you guys."

My nose wrinkles. "At least you're self-aware."

"I've been doing it on purpose, though."

What?

My head snaps towards him. "Wait. Why?"

I can barely keep up with this little chat of ours anymore. Once more, Cruz has veered off in a direction that I didn't see coming.

I can't help but wonder why he's opening up to me?

"I told you before," he sighs, "your aunt shouldn't be with someone like my dad. In case you can't tell, he's not... a good guy... either."

I think back to Ron's mantrum over Cruz's laptop. Definite red flag right there. Cruz has a point. Still, I get a tad annoyed. Up until the past few days, Cruz has been nothing but mean and hostile towards me. I shouldn't be so ready to forgive him.

I cross my arms over my chest and demand, "Are you trying to defend your bad attitude and bad behavior from before? If you were so concerned about your dad, then why didn't you warn my aunt about him from the get-go?"

"I definitely tried," Cruz insists, "I spoke to Katrina right before you guys were about to move in with us, but she brushed me off completely. So, I decided to change tactics."

Archly, I finish for him, "By acting like the spawn from hell to scare us away?"

He gulps sheepishly. "Something like that, yeah."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

To think, I thought that Cruz was the mature one between the two of us!

"I get that your dad has a nasty temper, but my aunt is a grown-ass adult. I'm sure she can handle whatever baggage he brings to their relationship."

Cruz grows quiet before countering, "Uou sure about that?"

My lips part. I'm about to respond. Then, my mouth snaps shut. His question sends a trickle of doubt through me. I'm no longer so sure, actually.

He continues in strained tones, "There's a reason my mom isn't in our lives anymore."

His mom?

This is the first time Cruz has brought her up, like, ever. I don't know a thing about her since Ron has never mentioned his ex in front of Aunt Katrina or me, either. There aren't even any traces of her in the old family photos displayed around his house. It's like the woman never existed.

A few tense beats stretch between Cruz and me.

He glances my way and holds my gaze. I look back with wide eyes and a heavy heart. I'm no stranger to grief or loss, I know all about the suddenness of death, and the numbing pain that comes with losing a parent.

My mind swerves to the worst possible conclusion.

Is Cruz's mom... dead?

Because of Ron?

In a distraught manner, I find myself start to ramble, "Oh, God, I-I didn't know, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for your loss..."

Cruz casts me a wry look. "Dude, my mom's not dead."

I stiffen in response. "Say that again?"

"Yeah, she's very much alive," he clarifies, "but we don't really talk anymore. She left when I was eleven."

Well, shit.