When I woke for what seemed like the hundredth time since Zachariah and I went to see the movie, I was still in his bed. My hand trailed over the wrinkled sheets but came up empty. At some point in the night, I had woken up to notice he had fallen asleep next to me, careful to keep a respectable amount of distance between us. I'd expected to still see him there in the morning but he must have gotten up to make breakfast or something.

As soon as I stopped fidgeting and laid back to collect my thoughts, the faintest noise crept into focus. From the sound of it, I realized there were more people in the house. My initial reaction was that maybe his roommates had come home, but as I listened to the hushed whispers, I recognized them.

I wasn't a child that needed protection, but I hung back and mentally cursed myself for it. As discreetly as possible, I tiptoed across the bedroom floor and avoided the creaky floorboards. Once I made it to the door, I leaned as far into the doorway as I could without drawing any attention to myself.

"You should have called me earlier and told me she was here," Emmie scolded in that way that always made my ears feel like they were being scratched from the inside. "If shit's happening at home, I need to know."

"I could tell she wanted to be left alone so I brought her here to crash," Zachariah replied. "If she wanted to call you, she would have."

"Guys," Jem interrupted. "This isn't the time."

"Finding out about it this morning isn't some kind of insult," he snarked, determined to prove he was right as I knew Emmie would be, even though there was no right or wrong.

Emmie let out a groan. "She's my best friend, Zach. You should have told me."

"Why are you making this about you?" He raised his voice.

I itched to go out there and tell them both to stop, but my feet froze in place as I rattled my brain, trying to make sense of how last night led to this morning.

"You're here now. Just be here for her, are you serious with this?"

Jem must have inserted herself into the battlefield that had become Emmie and Zachariah's relationship because the tension in the air seemed to dissipate when she spoke again, this time with much more conviction.

"Whatever you two are dealing with is irrelevant. Emmie, it doesn't matter if no one called last night. What matters is that we're here now. Can you two give it a rest for once?"

Emmie replied, "I'll go check on her."

Before she made it to the bedroom, I rushed back to bed and jumped on it, hoping it didn't make too loud of a sound. With a lot of effort, I managed to slow my breathing to a comfortable pace as if I'd been asleep.

Emmie didn't sidestep for anyone, so the floor creaked in all the right places as she walked over to me. I waited until the mattress sank beneath her weight and felt a warm hand brush down the side of my face.

"Alex?" she whispered, as gentle as the wind billowing in through the window.

Nobody ever mistook me for an actress, but I put on a good enough show when I pretended to struggle to open my eyes, adding an exaggerated yawn for good measure. Emmie smiled down at me like everything was right in the world.

"Sorry to wake you up." Her hand grazed the side of my forehead as she brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes.

I continued the charade and pretended to look around like I was lost. "What time is it?"

That question wasn't necessarily a lie—the exact time was currently lost on me.

She looked at the rose gold watch on her left wrist. "Seven-thirty. Sorry, it's so early."

I raked my fingers through my curls. "I'm not as tired as I thought I'd be."

"No?" She raised a brow at me. "That's good," she mumbled. "How are you feeling? Zach told me what happened."

My immediate reaction was to tell her it wasn't a big deal and we'd all work it out once I was able to talk to Anthony. But Emmie wasn't foolish, and neither was I.

Not that it hadn't been the first time I witnessed one of my father's rough nights, but I wasn't a child. I couldn't close my eyes and pretend like something didn't exist because I didn't see it most of the time. The stories Anthony told me weren't fairytales.

"You don't have to explain everything again," Emmie said. "I'm glad you're okay and that you had a place to stay."

The last part came out rushed like it was difficult for her to say. I knew it wasn't because she didn't believe the words, just that she'd been my saving grace for so long that having someone else be there for me must have been different.

Friendships were funny. We wanted the best for someone, but we wanted to feel like the best was us. To have someone come along and make it feel as if we'd been traded for someone shinier was a hard pill to swallow, most of all because it was all in our head most of the time.

The look vanished off Emmie's face with an imperceptible shake of her head. "I asked Anthony to give me a call when he wakes up."

My head pulled over to the side, pressing into the sheets that smelled like Zachariah. "You're too good to me."

Emmie glanced back at the door. "I'm just making sure I'm here for you as often as you are for me."

It was strange to feel like I was being catered to for something as intangible as witnessing my father's breakdown. Part of me wanted them to not fuss over me, but the other part knew invisible wounds cut deep, and their presence and words of comfort would help with the healing. Not all of it, but it helped.

"Zach told me I could come to stay with him sometimes if I wanted," I murmured into the sheets. I wasn't sure how Emmie was going to react to the offer.

"I think that'd be a good idea. You're always welcome over to our house but you know how crowded it is now with my brother back."

I held back a sigh of relief at her supportive response. "Yeah, I figured. The drive to work would be easier anyway."

There was an underlying layer to our words that neither of us wanted to confront, and I wasn't sure I had any energy after last night to attempt treading into those waters, so I didn't pursue it.

"I know it's tough to see him like this. But I promise this isn't something you need to do on your own. Your dad is like family to me and I'll help in any way I can."

Guilt chipped away at me for not realizing Emmie had been angry at not getting a call earlier because of what she'd just said. Although they were in a tight spot right now, it wasn't because she wanted to play some friendship hierarchy with Zachariah.

"I know." With minimal energy, I managed to sit up. Every inch of my body ached with the realization that the mind was a powerful tool, and mine had spent too long worrying without seeking genuine help. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot."

She looked back at me with sad eyes. "I'll always be here when you need me, no matter how big or small the situation is."

It was the truth I didn't want to admit. That even though seeing my dad for less than five minutes last night felt like an insignificant event, it was one part of a culmination of other parts that dug a chasm in my heart over the years.

Just like every other problem that arose in my life, I thought running away would solve it, and maybe to some extent it was a temporary solution, but long-term problem solving would be required and I was thankful for the support system I had.

...

Emmie and I walked out together after she helped me find some clothes that fit me. The scent of his laundry detergent and his cologne wrapped me in a cocoon of warmth and the two of us joined Zachariah and Jem.

Even before we stepped inside, I smelled the food. As soon as I slid onto one of the barstools, a plate with a cheese and mushroom omelet with Portuguese sausage on the side was placed in front of me.

The tension cut through the air between the two lovers, noticeable by Emmie making it a point to not look at him when she opened the refrigerator door to grab a juice. Zachariah maintained some distance and avoided making eye contact with her as well, though I caught the way he shook his head as she turned her back to him.

It was ridiculous to think I was somehow the wedge shoved between them since their issues expanded further than what was going on, but I couldn't help but feel stuck in the middle with Jem hanging on awkwardly on the outskirts.

"This smells good," I awed, picking up a fork and cutting into the eggs. "I always forget you cook."

"It's just eggs and sausage," Zachariah said.

I shrugged, mouth already full of food. "More than I cook."

Jem pulled her stool closer to me. Through the gloom cast over our faces, she shined as always, and her presence helped lift my spirits. "I grabbed one of the swimsuits you left at my dorm the other month. Thought we could go to the beach."

Just the thought of letting my stress dissipate into the waves made me feel better. Looking down at the pale brown color my skin had taken on from my lack of time in the sun, I set my mind on regaining a golden hue. Besides, a few hours in the sun was good for the soul.

"That sounds amazing," I sighed. "It'll give me a good excuse to wash my hair, too, 'cause it's a damn mess."

Jem picked at my curls, making a dramatic show of pretending like there was something stuck in it. "Yeah, honey. You're looking a little rough."

"I love you, thank you."

She tapped her finger against the tip of my nose. "You're welcome."

Jem looked over at Zachariah who leaned against the counter by the fridge, away from where Emmie stood looking down at the plate she picked at like a bird. "Do you want to come with us? We can make musubis and grab some beer."

"You mean I can?"

"Well yeah, you're the only loser here that likes drinking beer."

Zachariah smiled at her but his eyes briefly flickered over to his girlfriend. When the look wasn't reciprocated, I knew what his answer would be.

"I have some stuff I need to do but I'll help you guys cook before you leave," he offered, not letting Jem respond before he mumbled about needing to move over a load of laundry.

While Emmie resigned to finally sitting down, I slipped off my seat and followed him into the laundry room at the back of the house. The space we left behind was filled with a silence that I was sure would be washed over soon.

His back faced me, his shoulders rigid and rising with each crest. Zachariah sensed my presence right away but didn't physically react to it. "It's not a big deal. I don't want to argue with her over something irrelevant while you're all trying to have fun and take your minds off things."

I leaned my head against the doorframe and crossed my arms. "Is this how it is now? Not even one stress-free day at the beach seems plausible?"

Zachariah shrugged. "I don't think we should get into this right now."

"Why not?" I asked, stepping further into the room. "I know sometimes the risk of trying doesn't seem worth it, but you'll never know unless you try."

He turned to me. "It's not that I'm gonna stop trying. But I don't need you caught in the crossfires. We'll figure something out when it's just the two of us."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please go enjoy yourselves. You all deserve it."

Zachariah's stubbornness was as familiar as the back of my hand, so I didn't push. If he didn't want to spend the day with us, I'd find a way to be okay with it, even if I wished he was there.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. He gently laid his head on top of mine, his arms growing tighter.

"Thanks for last night," I whispered into his chest. It was one insignificant night out of many, but he had to know I appreciated him.

"Always."