On Friday as I was getting off of work, I saw Travis across the street in his civilian clothes, and as I squinted into the sunshine, watching him chat casually with an older man, rage filled me. He had been there–he had taken Archer to a strip club. He had planned it.

Without thinking, I stormed across the street, a car horn blaring at me. Travis looked over and started to smile, but saw the look on my face and went serious, turning to the older man and saying something before heading to meet me where I was heading toward him on the sidewalk.

As soon as I reached him, I slapped him hard across his face, the sound reverberating through the mild fall air. He closed his eyes and put his hand up to his cheek, rotating his jaw slowly.

"What in the hell was that for?" he hissed.

I got right up in his face. "You're a mean, selfish asshole, Travis Hale. What in the hell were you thinking taking Archer to a strip club? I thought I could trust you to take care of him!"

"Take care of him?" he asked, laughing softly. "What is he a damn child, Bree?"

"What?" I sputtered. "Of course he's not a child. But you know that he needed you to look out for him a little bit. He's never been out socially before! He needed you to–"

"Is that what you want? You want someone who has to be looked out for all the time? Is that the man you want?"

I was seeing red now, my hand itching to slap his face again. "You're twisting this! You're making him sound like he's mentally incapable of getting the hang of things he's never done before. He just needed you to–"

"What? Hold his hand all night so that he didn't fuck another woman?"

My mouth dropped open and I gaped at him.

He breathed out, running his hand through his hair. "Jesus, Bree, I wasn't trying to create a situation where you got hurt. I was just trying to show the guy a good time–make him feel like a GUY, give him some confidence so that he didn't feel like he was so far out of your league! All right, it obviously wasn't the best plan–I figured that out after he went in the back with a girl he liked when we were teenagers and fucked her, all right?"

"God, stop saying that!" I said, tears coming to my eyes. I swiped at them angrily, mad at myself for crying in the middle of the damn street in front of Travis Hale.

"He's not for you, Bree. He's… too different… too sheltered, too apt to make choices that will hurt you. I'm sorry you found out the hard way."

I shook my head back and forth. "You're twisting this."

"I'm not," he said gently, pulling me toward him and putting his arms around me. "I'm sorry, Bree. Really, really sorry."

I pushed away from him and turned to walk back to my car. My head was swimming with hurt and anger–at Travis, at Archer, at myself. I just needed to get home.

"Bree," Travis called and I stopped walking, but didn't turn. "I'm here if you need me."

I kept walking, noting that people all around us were stopped and staring. Wow, subtle. But we had just put on a show, or rather, I had.

I walked quickly to my car, got in and drove numbly home, dragging myself into my cottage and collapsing on my couch.

Phoebe came up and happily jumped on my lap, wagging her tail and licking my face. I laughed, despite my rotten mood, and hugged her to me. "Hi, sweet girl," I cooed.

Phoebe jumped off of my lap and ran to the door, chuffing softly to go outside. She was so used to hopping in the bike basket and peddling over to Archer's house every day, she had to be missing her friends, too, and that huge property where she ran around uninhibited, exploring.

"I miss him too, girl," I said, not knowing what in the hell to do about that.

After a few minutes, I went to get in the shower. As I undressed in my bedroom, the first raindrops began to fall.

Bree

By eight o'clock that night, the rain was coming down hard and the thunder had started booming, lightening zigzagging across the sky.

I sat huddled in my room, Phoebe on my lap. The feeling of that night came flowing back over me as I sat there. I had a better handle on it now, but I knew that that loud booming above me would always remind me of feeling alone and helpless.

I had several candles burning around my bedroom in case the power went out. Normally, candles provided a calming, romantic atmosphere, but tonight the shadows they cast on the walls surrounding me made the storm even scarier, more unnerving.

I heard a soft knock at my door and startled. Phoebe perked her ears up and barked softly. Who the hell was that?

I had already had him in the forefront of my mind because of the storm, and so my heart rate accelerated as I slowly got up off my bed and tiptoed down the hall, Phoebe at my heels.

I went to the front window and peeked out the curtain where I could just barely see my porch in front of the door. Archer was leaned back, looking at me as I stared at him. My heart started pounding as I took in his drenched form, his jeans and white t-shirt plastered to his body. Oh God, he must have walked here in the downpour.

I only hesitated for a second before I hurried to the door and flung it open to the sound of the rain pounding the ground in front of my porch. A loud clap of thunder shook the cottage and I jumped slightly, causing Archer to take a step toward me.

What are you doing here? I asked.

You don't like thunderstorms, he answered.

I tilted my head, confused. You walked a mile in the rain because I don't like thunderstorms?

He hesitated for a second, looking away, frowning slightly. Then he looked back at me and said simply, yes. He paused, his expression pained. I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I just thought if I sat on your porch, you wouldn't be scared. You wouldn't be alone.

Oh God.

I couldn't help it, my face crumpled and I started to cry.

Archer took a tentative step toward me and silently asked permission as he looked into my eyes. I nodded at him, acknowledging his unspoken question, and he took me in his arms and pressed me to him.

I brought my arms up around him and buried my face in his neck, breathing in his clean, rainy scent. I cried silently in his arms for several minutes as he held me, rubbing circles on my back, his warm breath on my ear, his drenched clothing soaking me too. For those few minutes, I was oblivious to the thunder and rain coming down noisily all around us–for those few minutes, it was only me and him, and nothing else.

I wasn't sure what to think. I only knew that this felt right. He was still my best friend, my sweet, silent boy, and I had missed him so desperately that I ached. He had hurt me and yet I clung to him as if my very life depended on it.

After a few minutes, I leaned back, looking up at his face. He looked down at me so sweetly and tenderly that my heart squeezed tightly in my chest.

You hurt me, I said, stepping back.

Sadness filled his expression and he nodded, acknowledging that he knew he had.

Let me fix it, he said, please. I want to fix it. What can I do?

I breathed out, dropping my shoulders. You had sex with another woman, Archer.

He shook his head, I didn't have sex with her, I just… was with her.

My brows furrowed and I jerked my head back. What? I thought you were… wait, what does 'you were with her' mean exactly? I didn't know what he was going to tell me, but relief washed over me when I realized that he hadn't gone all the way with her.