I watch in awe as Evan's ambitious imagination comes to life, now freed from the chains of homelessness. He lists off all of the places he wants to apply to work. On our way to the Mission, he pulls me into a drugstore and helps me figure out what kind of foundation he should buy to cover the tattoos on his temple when he goes to job interviews. He is happy and free, blissful and light, flying high in the sky like a child's kite.

"Will you help me with my eyebrows?" he asks as we near the Mission. "I know they're gnarly but I've always been too afraid to try and fix them myself."

I laugh. "They aren't gnarly. Just need a little pluck here and there. We can do it when we get home."

"Home," he sighs happily, looking up at the Mission as he practically waltzes up the steps. "I will not miss this fucking place."

"We can do a facemask to make your skin bright, do a coconut oil treatment on your hair. Ms. Harper would love to help," I say.

"I can't tell if you're kidding, but I'm so down for all of that," Evan says gleefully.

"No, I'm dead serious," I say, grinning.

We walk into the Mission and I'm happy to catch a glimpse of Tia in the kitchen chopping vegetables in preparation for dinner. I walk over to her and give her a big hug.

"Hey, Audrey! How are you feeling?" she asks, giving me a quick squeeze before she frames my face in her soft hands. "Everything good?"

"Everything is great. I'll be back here after winter break," I say. She knows I go to visit my dad then. "All healed up and ready to roll."

"Good," she says happily. "We miss you." Then she catches herself. "But, like, no rush. Take your time."

"No rushing," I say, looking back at Evan. He hangs in the doorway of the kitchen, unsure if he's allowed to enter. "Um... we're here to get Evan's stuff."

Tia narrows her eyes at me for a moment before she slips off her plastic gloves and tosses them in the garbage. I follow her to the staff quarters and look back at Evan apprehensively as she unlocks it.

Evan makes a move to grab his stuff from just inside the doorway, but Tia holds up a hand. "Uh-uh. We gotta have a little talk, you and me. Listen, Audrey's an adult and can make her own decisions. You are also an adult and can make your own decisions. But you need to know that your decisions can have some serious consequences. I want you to know that there is an army of people ready to rip you to pieces and bury your bones if you hurt her. The cops will never find you."

This little talk warms my heart, but also gives me a touch of anxiety for Evan. I wonder what he'll say.

I watch in wonderment as he smiles. "Good."

Tia gives him an approving smile as she steps back to allow him entry into the staff quarters.

Evan grabs his backpack and guitar case. I reach for the guitar case and he hands it to me. Then he holds his arms out to Tia for a hug. She rolls her eyes in a sweetly maternal way as she hugs him.

"I mean it. I'll kick your ass myself," she tells him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks for everything, Tia," he says.

"You're welcome," she says, patting his shoulder. "Let me know if you guys need anything. Anything at all."

"We will," Evan and I say in unison.

We leave the Mission hand-in-hand. There is no point in hiding anymore. The Mission serves a small, close-knit community within Portland's wide borders. Word will travel like wildfire.

Evan lists off things he wants to buy now that he has somewhere to put them. "I want an atlas. I want nine thousand pairs of socks. I want- ooh, I want a clipper set. There's a guy a few blocks from the Mission who does haircuts for five bucks but it's really hard to get an appointment and I've gotten lice from him a few times." He pauses. "I don't have lice now, I promise."

I just laugh at his earnestness.

"I want nice underwear. Like... Calvin Klein. You know that brand goes all-out for LGBT+ rights? They have a huge pride selection and everything. I want a pair of rainbow boxer-briefs. I want..."

"Audrey!"

Both of us turn to see who called my name. My heart sinks through the asphalt beneath my shoes when I recognize him.

It's Kenneth Dunn, a frequenter of the Mission and a known friend of Lenny's. Anger and suspicion highlight his dark eyes as he approaches us from down the block.

Kenneth isn't as rude as Lenny, but he has a fierce mistrust of the system that I suspect is the result of some form of paranoid delusion. He doesn't just think the system is unfair. He thinks it's rigged against him, specifically. He's known for selling his SNAP card for drug money and throwing grand fits when the local office refuses to replace them.

Evan steps in front of me and pulls out his phone. "I can have the police here in five minutes, Ken. Don't do anything stupid."

"Shithead," Ken barks at him, but still, he maintains his distance. He isn't eager to earn facetime with the law, but his anger with me is still full-force. "You know you fucked Lenny over, right, bitch? He's getting eighteen months minimum down in Salem."

I'm stunned. I can't imagine poor Lenny facing down a year and a half of his life being wasted behind bars and concrete. I want to cry at the thought.

"Good. Sober him up and teach him a lesson about stealing, lying, and punching volunteers," Evan argues. He takes his guitar case from me and reaches for my hand with his spare one. "Come on, Audrey."

"Ken, I-" I start, completely horrified at what I've done. I should have gone with my gut and not pressed charges. I can't believe I let my dad talk me into it.

"What? You're sorry? That's not going to do much to help Lenny now, is it?" he spits on the ground. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you? You have no IDEA the shit Lenny's seen. The shit I've seen! Who the hell are you to make these choices?!"

"She was not the judge who sentenced him!" Evan shouts.

"I... I just wanted him to get help," I mumble.

Kenneth is all fury and fire, leaving no room for me or my words. I know better than to argue with him, but there's some part of me that doesn't want him to think I'm the bad guy.

"Fucking lot of help prison is," he snaps. He shakes his head. "He won't make it a month. He's pissed off too many people. Lenny's going to die because of you!"

"We're leaving," Evan insists, pulling me along. He looks over his shoulder. "Don't come any closer or I will call the cops!"

"I HOPE YOU LOSE SLEEP, BITCH!" Kenneth shouts from down the block.

Tears pour from my eyes as Evan purposefully makes unnecessary twists and turns along the blocks, intent on losing Kenneth if he did decide to follow us. But I don't think Kenneth will try. His anger was a sprint, not a marathon. He has to focus on his own survival. He can't maintain any emotion long enough to plan something as intricate as attacking me in my home.

"It's not true, Audrey," Evan reassures me as we walk. I cry silently, sniffling, unable to answer him. I reach to wipe my eyes with my spare hand. "Audrey, the judge decided how long he got. Someone sat down, looked at his record and determined this was the best and safest option. This is not your fault."

"He wouldn't be in there if I hadn't pressed charges," I whisper.

"He wouldn't be in there if he hadn't gone on a meth rage and hit you hard enough to give you a concussion," Evan replies firmly. "He wouldn't be in there if he hadn't stolen the only things I have to my name."

I nod, but inside, I'm falling apart. I've doomed Lenny.

Evan wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me up the stairs of our apartment building. When I fumble with the key, he gently takes it from me and unlocks the door himself. I lay on my bed, facing the window, trying not to think of Lenny scared and hopeless in a hard, frigid cell.

"Audrey," Evan murmurs. I hear him set his things down. For a moment I fear he'll try to cuddle up behind me and I'll have to think of a way to tell him that I don't want to be touched right now. Instead, he sits on the bed by my feet. I curl up my legs so he has more room, sniffling as my tears slide onto the pillowcase.

"Audrey," he breathes again. "We can debate for hours about whose fault it was. I don't think any of that will change your mind. So tell me... what made you decide to press charges in the first place?"

I'm too mentally tired to follow his train of thought. "Officer Espinoza pointed out that it could have been Beth that he hit. Or Tia. Or... anyone else."

"So, by pressing charges on him, you're keeping them safe," he says soothingly. "All of them. You're protecting them. They'll help him recover at the prison, Audrey. He'll get three hot meals a day, a bed, counseling services, free healthcare, AA, NA. He'll have eighteen months clean when he comes out. He'll be fine. Take it from me, okay? I'm sure Lenny's been in a lot worse places than prison."

"Have you ever been to prison?" I ask, sniffling.

He shakes his head. "Or jail, by some miracle. They could've gotten me on vagrancy or loitering charges dozens of times but I think the Portland police are tired of writing those tickets. But I spent a lot of nights at the Mission. I talked to a lot of people. Heard a lot of stories. When someone is as low as Lenny was, strung out and violent, prison can be the wake-up call that gets them to change what they're doing."

"He's not the villain. He's a victim, too," I say.

"You're right. He is a victim. But that doesn't mean he can take it out on you and not face consequences. Follow me here, Audrey. You were protecting the other people who work in shelters and benefit offices all over the city. I know you see the goodness in everyone, but you have to recognize their faults, too. Lenny's faults would have landed him in prison one way or another. And maybe... maybe he would have caused a lot worse than a concussion."

I close my eyes, letting the words sink into my brain instead of trying to out-logic them or fight them off.

"Lenny will benefit from this. He'll benefit from the sobriety. He'll gain weight from the food. And I think Kenneth is full of shit, there's no way Lenny's important enough to have earned a death sentence from any dealers. Lenny will be safe in there. Taken care of. And Portland will be safer with him recovering somewhere."

I nod. "You think I did the right thing?"

"You did the right thing. Just imagine, if you'd let him go, you'd be setting a precedent for him and everyone else. That volunteers don't matter. That they can do whatever they want to whoever they want and there will be no consequences. I truly, honestly believe that while Lenny might be pissed as hell about prison, it'll be good for him. He can get his shit together."

I stay silent, but his words soothe the storm in me. I just can't figure out how to thank him for his patience.

"Come on. Why don't I make some popcorn and you can show me your favorite TV show?" he asks.

"You want to watch the back catalog of Parks and Rec?" I ask him.

He laughs and rests a hand on my leg. The touch his small, but it makes me feel safe and warm. "That sounds awesome."

"You wanted to go shopping," I remind myself. "We can go do that instead."

"Let's go shopping after two episodes," he bargains. "I think we both need a little break."

I sit up and lean into him for a hug. He holds me close, gently stroking up and down my spine. He kisses my forehead with a pressure so light, the kiss could have been mistaken for a butterfly landing on my skin.

"Thank you, Evan," I whisper.

"You don't have to thank me."

"If you weren't here, I would have cried for hours."

"I think that's a sign of a good relationship, right? We make each other cry less than we would if we were alone," he jokes. I laugh against his shirt.

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