Over the next few hours, Cruz doesn't come out of his room at all. I don't blame him. From upstairs, I can hear Ron storming around downstairs in a fit of leftover rage. I'm sure Cruz can hear him, too. Ron sounds like an angry bull in a china shop, slamming cabinets and drawers and knocking over God-knows-what.

Ron's mini-rampage doesn't stop until Aunt Katrina comes home from work. When my aunt walks through the front door, an invisible switch seems to flip on, and Ron reverts back to his usual non-talkative, grunting self. It's creepy how quickly Ron can shift away from the scary version of himself.

All of this unresolved, underlying tension makes me feel super uneasy, so I choose not to step out of my room, either.

I spend my time researching a new laptop for Cruz. When I come across something with better specs than his old one, I bite the $600 bullet and click on the yellow Buy Now button. I can't wait to surprise Cruz. I hope he'll like it. I hope my gift will make him feel better.

Around 7 pm, Aunt Katrina calls us down for dinner. Cruz and I run into each other in the hallway as we leave our rooms at the same time.

Cruz's green eyes go wide when he sees me. "Hey."

"Hey," I mumble back, unsure of how we're supposed to act around each other.

Is he my kind of boyfriend now?

Yes?

But only behind closed doors.

Am I his kind of girlfriend now?

Yeah?

Except when Ron and Aunt Katrina are home.

Cruz and I stare at each other for an awkward, longing beat before we both look away.

Not knowing what else to say, we head downstairs together. The energy radiating off of Cruz still feels somewhat angry and sad. His muscles look tense, like, he's struggling to hold his emotions in check. I wish I could hug him or hold his hand, but I can't touch him like that in front of his dad and my aunt.

As we approach the kitchen, the two of us share a look of trepidation before joining Ron and Aunt Katrina for dinner. The table is set. We're having salmon with a side of wild rice and roasted asparagus tonight.

I take a bite of my salmon. It's buttery and lemony and smoky and, overall, really tasty, Aunt Katrina has always been a much better cook than me, but I can't let myself relax and enjoy the meal. My eyes keep darting between Ron and Cruz. Cruz maintains his usual, unreadable resting-bitch-face expression. He doesn't try to interact with his dad. He doesn't even look at him. Not once. Ron stays grim and silent. Although, unlike Cruz, every time he looks at his son, a flash of rage darkens his features.

Both father and son are on relatively good behavior, but I'm worried that one of them might snap. I notice that my aunt has picked up on the tension. She keeps glancing nervously at Ron and Cruz as well.

Aunt Katrina clears her throat and tries to lighten the mood by asking about my day, "How was school today, Athena?"

"Fine," I mutter.

My aunt clearly has no clue about what happened today between Cruz and Brody when she prompts, "Did anything exciting happen?"

Suddenly, Ron slams his knife and fork on the table.

He announces in harsh tones, "I've lost my fucking appetite."

Then, Ron shoots up from his chair and disappears into his study.

"Oh, shit," my aunt curses under her breath.

My aunt's question about school must have triggered something in Ron. My guess? He's probably stewing over Cruz's suspension all over again.

Immediately, Aunt Katrina sets down her fork and hurries after him. "Wait, Ron. What's wrong?"

Once my aunt is gone, Cruz and I are alone in the kitchen.

I gulp uncomfortably and glance at him. "Should we do... something?"

"Nah," Cruz says, shaking his head. "My dad is a fucking drama queen. The best thing to do is to stay out of his way and let him feel like he had the last word. Otherwise, he'll just keep blowing up over and over again."

I hear some yelling from the other room. Ron is the one yelling. I can hear my aunt's voice, too. She's talking in much quieter tones. It sounds like my aunt is trying to calm him down.

I inquire with a wrinkled brow, "Should I go check on my aunt? Your dad's not gonna hurt her... is he?"

A strained, worried look passes over Cruz's face as Ron's yelling grows more volatile.

"You stay here," he insists. "I'll go."

Cruz rises from his seat and hurries towards the study. His reaction tells me everything I need to know: Ron has probably hurt Cruz's mom or Cruz before.

I get up, too, and follow him. "I'll go with you."

He turns around and places a hand on my shoulder, nudging me back gently.

"No, Athena. Stay here. Let me handle my dad."

I argue in a soft but firm voice, "But Katrina is my aunt. And you're my boyfriend. I need to protect what's mine."

Cruz's hard expression flickers with a softer emotion. "Boyfriend, huh?"

"Yeah, boyfriend," I confirm, tilting up my chin at him.

Daring him to prove me wrong.

Shocking myself with my own gutsiness.

When he doesn't fight me, I rush to say, "I'm not gonna stand on the sidelines. I promise I won't get in your way, but I need to be there if shit goes down."

He sighs, "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Are you annoyed?"

Cruz offers up a small, lopsided smile. "Kinda. But it kinda turns me on, too."

I laugh despite the heaviness of the moment. "I swear, everything turns you on."

He winks. "Not everything. Only you."

I flash him a winning smile. "So... you'll let me tag along?"

All of a sudden, he leans over and plants a swift, chaste kiss on my cheek while murmuring, "Fine, girlfriend, you can come."

I echo his vibe from earlier, "Girlfriend, huh?"

Green eyes glisten with emotion. "Yeah... girlfriend."

"Thank you, baby," I murmur.

The softness in Cruz's eyes fades away as his expression hardens once more. "Don't be a fucking hero. I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, okay?"

I frown at his serious tone. "Okay..."

He takes a pause. "Just promise me that you'll grab your aunt and get out of the house if things get physical."

Physical?

My entire chest tightens with distress. "Cruz..."

His eyes narrow sharply. "You promise?"

I eye him warily. "I... promise."

I'm lying, though.

Never would I abandon Cruz, especially now he has hinted that Ron might get violent.

The moment we approach the study, a baseball-sized crystal paperweight zips through the air across the room, barely missing Aunt Katrina's face as it crashes against one of the bookshelves. As the crystal shatters into dozens of broken shards, my aunt's complexion grows pale with shock and fear.

Mine does, too.

Shit's definitely hitting the fan right now.

Aunt Katrina shrieks, "What the hell, Ron? You almost hit me!"

Red in the face, Ron growls, "Don't ever fucking tell me what to do with my own damn son, bitch!"

"I-I was just trying to help," my aunt protests with a panicked, stammering wail, "I only suggested that you should try talking to him. Cruz is a good kid. I'm sure there's a reason why he got into a fight today..."

Ron looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel.

Cruz charges into the study and purposely positions himself between Ron and Aunt Katrina.

Dread twists inside me as I watch him set his jaw determinedly.

Cruz appears dead set on making himself a target when he declares, "I'm the one who fucked up today, dad. Not Katrina. If you're gonna get mad at someone, then get mad at me."

A diabolical gleam enters Ron's eyes, and I know, instantly, this is the opening he has been waiting for to rip into Cruz.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!