I WOULD NEVER TIRE OF THE OCEAN. A dwindling sun hung above grass-covered bluffs. It reminded me of bygone summers, blazing sunsets, and dried sea-salt hair, running against the wildness of the waves until the skies became starlit.

The sun-baked streets that ran adjacent to the beach were deserted. People sheltered from the heat on one of the hottest days of the year. I draped my suit jacket over my arm.

I'd rehearsed a speech to Alex. There were apologies to make from my side alone, and I wanted him to understand where mine originated. A car screeched up at the side of the road. When I turned, Derek grinned, and I heard it coming before he parted his lips.

"You're dead to me, Tate Parker." And I knew it was the most truth that Derek had ever spoken in his life.

His eyes bulged, jaw tight as he got out of the car. Deep-seated hatred sprung from every ragged breath as he approached. He was on the precipice of war and was one lousy vending machine experience away from a bystander catastrophe. Tyson and Snaggletooth slipped out of the same vehicle and blocked my exit.

"Who are you waiting on? Not Alex, or your mom, I hope..."

It was just words. No harm, no foul. "I'm not going to fight you, Derek. I promised Alex."

"He doesn't care what you do. Said as much."

The words stung like a bee in summer. Had Alex agreed to come so he could tell me what a colossal mistake we had made? Had I pushed him too far when I left him alone at the side of the road?

"If you see your mom, tell her she still owes me ten dollars. I wasn't that into it, but fuck was she eager." He smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, and I understood what he was trying to do.

But if I had one button that would invoke a red haze to cloud my vision, they were repeatedly hitting it.

"Snaggletooth said he had her first, so I don't know who the sloppy second jokes more on. But before you answer, remember he earned his nickname after that punchline."

Derek laughed, then deadpanned. "That would be funny if she weren't dead."

Some hazes make you feel like you are standing by, looking over your shoulder. Despite hearing the echo of a promise to Alex, there was someone I cared about more, and I hadn't seen her in such a long time. My vision finally clouded.

I charged. The force sent him staggering backward, and I threw down the first of three raining blows. The first punch caught his nose and sent a droplet of blood to the concrete. He tried to retreat, but I was unrelenting. Tyson's hands clasped my shoulders from behind, and I shrugged them off and continued to inflict the most damage I could.

My second blow connected with his left cheekbone, sending Derek collapsing onto the pavement below. My knuckles stung as they connected a third and final time with his nose until a sickening crunch forced them to stop.

Derek coughed, spitting up blood. His eyes rolled, dazed, to the back of his head. The broader reach of his arm barely made contact with my eye. He then lay there motionless, his face contorted in pain.

I retreated as my jaw fell wide.

Everyone went silent. I stepped back and shakily onto my feet. My fists were still clenched as I replayed the altercation in my mind. The adrenaline still coursed through my veins, making me hyper-aware. Two words Alex once said came back to haunt me—not sustainable.

Anger had become an impediment. I had been the one that had taken the final escalation, and now Alex's cousin lay crumpled at my feet. The whistle that sounded whenever he breathed suggested I'd at least crushed his nose.

He'd only got one punch in.

Finally, a pair of arms hauled me to the side. I staggered into the dunes until my feet were too heavy to drag through the sand. Can I change? Will Alex forgive the promise I broke? Can I forgive myself?

Spattered blood seeped into my dress shirt as I fought to loosen my tie and dropped to my knees. I had proved my father and Alex right. As the sky darkened and the tide began to lap at my feet, I needed to see Alex.

I strode up the ocean sidewalk, but being late, Alex was either long gone or no longer attending, as Derek had said. What I now had to say, though, had to be told to his face because he needed to see my eyes when I said it and how sorry I was for breaking the promise I made him.

The walk to his house took twenty minutes longer than it should have. I veered across the path as my head drummed. When his home came into my view, I crossed the street past the twisted bike tire. I staggered up the steps and rapped once on his door. Ready to launch into an apology, I felt unprepared when Rafael Benitez opened the door.

His gaze took in everything about me but held a reserve that gave me nothing in return. "Alex is not here. Why are you?"

In dusk's early shadows, it would be impossible for him to make out the early bruising on my face until he turned the porch light on, and I squinted. His eyes were watchful yet familiar, and he opened the door wider.

Without a word spoken between us, I followed behind him, and when he gestured to the kitchen table, I sat. Rafael made tea that both of us knew I wouldn't drink.

"Rafael? An older lady called from a room at the back. "Is Alex home?"

Rafael held a pointed finger to his lips. "No, Lita. Go back and rest. I'll tell you when he is."

When he heard the creak of a bed, he lowered his hand.

"I know why you're here," he said.

Did he? Not even I did. "I came to see Alex, and I won't leave until I have."

"You won't want to see my son after what I tell you." It sounded like a challenge, but his eyes portrayed a different story.

"I'm guessing you are here to ask why I did what I did?" Rafael said.

My eyes scrunched, pondering what this man was even talking about.

"I've always known one day you would come. One day you would want to know why I picked up your butts behind the dumpster and claimed them as my own."

A flash of adolescent memories spent hazing the day away in a plume of happy smoke hit me tenfold. Seconds after the realization hit, the first tears streamed down my face, again and again, in a wave I couldn't stop.

I'm the one who destroyed Rafael's life? Me? Not Dean Parker? Is this mess all my fault?

Salt water flooded my mouth, and I almost emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. If I came clean, I would prove every stereotype my father and Alex thought about me. Blood rushed to my ears, forcing a swishing sound I couldn't shake. The shock hit as a rattle in my hands.

"Your mother had just died, Tate. I used to see you outback. I know pain. I'm glad you cleaned your act up. It's made this all worthwhile."

A choked sob escaped before I clamped my mouth shut, but the torment lingered, looking for a hole, a weakness in my exterior, an opportunity to crush me. Am I the cause of this?

"You didn't tell my father?"

He shook his head. "That seemed like it might make things worse for you."

"It's not illegal."

"You are a minor, Tate." Rafael's eyes were the least judgmental I'd ever known. My head bowed, fixed in concentration on the spot on the floor.

"You got fired because of me. You said nothing because of Nadine?"

"I got fired, Tate, because I made a choice. I've always seen the bigger picture, and that was always you. Your family and I were not always at odds with each other. Once upon a time, I considered your father a friend. Tell me something. Why do you call your mother Nadine?"

A solitary tear rolled down the bride of my nose. "Because it hurts too much to call her anything else."

His eyes welled in response to mine. "You like my son."

It wasn't a question.

I nodded. It was all I could do because I didn't have the words to describe how my heart swelled when Alex was near.

Rafael clasped my hands in his. "It's all very Romeo and Juliet, don't you think, Tate?"

I shook my head. "No, because nobody needs to die at the end."

There was no world where Alex would forgive me. No universe where he would understand that I never knew until now. No hope in hell we would retain the relationship that was starting to build. Maybe I was wrong, and Alex was right? Maybe people were one-dimensional, and forgiveness pointless because people like me could never change.

If I come clean, I will prove every stereotype my father thinks about me and more. So much more. And Alex. For everything I didn't know about the future, what I did was I couldn't go back to the way things were.

I regretted my next words before opening my mouth—but I still said them. I squeezed Rafael's fingers. "Don't tell, Alex. Please don't tell Alex."

"Don't tell Alex what?"

Standing tall in the doorway, Alex's voice broke me in ways Rafael's confession hadn't yet been able to. "Your Dad was just—."

"—Just telling Tate how much you have been enjoying your new friendship, Alex," Rafael interrupted, giving me a meaningful look.

I bit my lip, nodding in agreement. It was a half-truth, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything else in front of Alex.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that so?"

He moved slowly forward. "Because I waited to see if you'd lie when you looked me in the eye—and you were about to. Everything is the way it is because of you. Not your dad, but you? You're even worse than the stereotype you are trying to outrun. I just came from the emergency room, where Derek is getting his nose reset. Get out of my house, or you'll be the first person I ever lay hands on."