Chapter 1

Justin's POV - Prologue

"I watch how the moon sits in the sky on a dark night, shining with the light from the sun.  The sun doesn't give light to the moon, assuming the moon's going to owe it one."

Addiction:

The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming.

All consuming, an uncontrollable need to devour, a desperation that seeps into my skin, sinking further into my bones as the hunger grows stronger.  Each pass of my hand across the burning flesh, the flashes coming so rapidly at the contact, exploding behind my eyes and feeding the flames that threaten to incinerate my entire being. 

Sucking in a ragged breath, the familiarity, the reminder of home, breathing it into my lungs, and letting it fill me from the inside out.  It's the only sense of peace, the ability to calm my breaths to mere shallow pulls of vanilla and honey.  Soaking it in, allowing it to devour what little piece of sanity I so barely hold onto.  It's an obsession that I have longed and desired for, controlling what I can and fighting to control what I cannot.

Control:

To exercise authoritative or dominating influence over; to direct.

The ability manipulate, even with the best intentions, to dominate her, is always floating in the recesses of my mind.  Try as I might, allowing things to naturally happen, whether by chance or fate is never an acceptable option.  The power to know how to touch, to ignite the flames of desire that bubble under the surface, never fully escaping and emerging, always locking them away, refusing to acknowledge the pull toward each other.  It is my own personal hell.  Knowing how to control, feeling the addiction sucking me deeper into her depths, but never being able to capture her soul. 

Capture:

To gain possession or control of, as in a game or contest.

She has never been a game.  It has never been about winning, it has always been about consuming.  To feel the fire as it burned, the flames licking across my skin, ripping me wide open, exposing me to her, never knowing how to shut it off or block her out.  She is always the exception. 

Consume:

To destroy or expend by use; to eat or drink; to devour.

I want her.  Every aspect of my body screams for her, to feel her pulse in her neck, her heart beating against her ribs, fighting for a chance to escape, to hold her in my arms, knowing that it is her choice to make, to choose me, for the first time in her life.  I want to devour her whole, immerse my entire being in her, to finally be incinerated from her warmth. 

Obsession:

The domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent image, desire, person, etc.

For fifteen years, I have thought of nothing but her, how one touch has the power to annihilate any other.  The singe of relief, the burn of desire, they roll simultaneously together, leaving me in the clutches of addiction, gasping for control, yearning for capture, wanting to consume, and falling further into my obsession.

She is the answer, the problem, the cure, and the disease.  She is everything unattainable, and I crave the opportunity to hold her in my hands, to finally capture what captured me.  Everything inside me craves her, her body, her smile, her voice, her breath, I ache for her soul. 

The desire smolders under my skin, knowing she could feel it as I let the guard slip away.  Open, vulnerable, exposed, the flashes blinding me as I savor their flavor, feeling the sweetness on my tongue.  Inhaling her essence and pulling it deeper and deeper into me, letting it boil against my own, knowing that I will lose the feel of her against me soon, the rejection a bitter contrast simmering on the surface.  I drink, suck up what I can, knowing it will never be enough, but for now it will be everything.  Because she is everything.

Her breath on my cheek, the warmth spilling down my neck, sending the shivers throughout my body, feeling them grasp my spine as her energy surges through me.  Her light a vibrant shock to my dark system, holding me, tying me tighter and tighter around her, knowing that a brush of my hand against her soft, luminous skin will be my undoing.  Hesitantly, as if the motion will be my final act, I reach up; stroking the pad of my finger against her hand and the pull nearly catapults me right inside of her.  The bonds of steel wrapping around my heart, seizing its beats for a fraction of a second as her heart beats for the two of us.   She owns me, and she has no idea.

I never want the moment to end, I want to drink it up, capture it, and replay it over and over again.  To finally secure what I chased for so long, to give in to the thoughts and expose the inner-workings of my mind to someone, someone that I long for understanding from.  I pray for acceptance, the thought of rejection closing in heavily like a looming cloud, sparking with the lightning to obliterate me if she chooses to do so.  I can't hold back any longer, I need her to understand how deeply her entire being runs through my body and boils in my blood. 

I love you

It is a whisper, nothing more than a gentle caress between two souls, a non-verbal declaration.  But the thought careens out, exposed into the vast openness of her mind and swirls in her thoughts.  Her eyes dilate, their pupils nearly taking over the soft hues of blue that I find myself falling further and further into.  Her body calls to me as much as her mind echoes the same sentiment.  She's so close to giving in; to understanding the part of me that can never let her go because she's mine.  She's the only thing that has ever truly been mine, my own possession, in my own mind.  I yearn for the reciprocation, the final surrender but the withdrawal of her hand upon my own jolts me out of the reverie that whirls me helplessly around her.  The cold touch of air is a slap in the face as she slowly, and painfully, extracts herself from my arms, my body, my mind, and finally, my heart. 

Leaving me there, defenseless, standing in front of her in complete danger of being broken, in foreign territory, as the pieces start to fall together, one-by-one.  The puzzle practically forming in her mind reflects in her eyes, and I can feel the shift as she places all the clues, the insights, the obscure ideas together into one thought.  One idea that threatens everything I have ever built and everything I have ever wanted with her.  It verges on the brink in her mind, not really believing in the possibility, but realizing she cannot deny what is in front of her. 

Carefully, she connects her beautiful, blue eyes with my own, their openness clear for me to see as she stares at me, unblinkingly.  The connection that sears between us glows, casting a haze around my thoughts and sucking the energy right out of me as I can see the question forming on her tongue. 

I close my eyes, knowing that if she speaks the words, everything will be for nothing.  I can't bear to watch her mouth form the words.

But suddenly, she reaches out, her hand caressing my cheek and I sink further into her touch, a glutton for punishment and knowing that I am powerless to resist the pull between us.  She's my magnetic North, my lone star in the sky, always bringing me home.  She's everything I have ever wanted and needed, and everything that I can't have.

Torturously, as if she is prolonging the pain, she lets her fingers run over the stubble forming on my jaw, sweeping her fingers across my lips, and I have to steady myself from kissing the soft flesh.  This is her opportunity to ask, her time to understand and comprehend what I have known for years. 

Can you hear me? Her thoughts ring out like an alarm in the early morning, her lips never moving and the words never breaking the silence swirling between us.

It's everything I have ever dreamed of and everything I feared as I take the final step into the unknown world of revealing my secret.

I nodded.

Chapter 2

Justin's POV

Secret:

Kept hidden from knowledge or view; concealed.  Dependably discreet.  Operating in a hidden or confidential manner.

A lock and key, bound with cables of steel, hiding the truth, concealing what makes me different, what makes her my addiction.  For years, I have masked my abilities, never allowing anyone to get a glimpse into my head.  Not even her.  The one person who has fed my cravings, given me her hand, a touch of her skin, all that is needed to unlock the potential onslaught of thoughts, emotions, ideas...unleashing her mind. 

The swirling serenity, the unending amount of information that is conveyed in one touch, her thoughts, feelings, hopes, desires, and fears, everything easily at my disposal.  She's a wealth of knowledge, unknowingly allowing me access to the utmost private thoughts with a simple stroke, hand-to hand contact, skin-to-skin, nothing kept hidden, and nothing secret.

Her mind is like a drug to me, sinking its teeth into my very being, pulling me further inside of her, fueling my desperation to contain her, to dominate her in every way imaginable.  The twisted thoughts are a constant buzz in the background of my head, intensifying with each opportunity I am given to see her soul.  The desire to protect and possess her continually plays a ravenous conflict in my mind, never choosing the right option, always letting my need to control her win out.  Somewhere inside of me, I know it's wrong, I know that using my ability to manipulate every situation, every decision, every idea that threatens to expose me, to pull her away from my grasp, influencing the outcome to draw her nearer, to claim her as mine.

Because that's what she is...she's mine.

Ever since she walked into my life fifteen years ago, the girl next door, that's all she was supposed to be...nothing more, nothing less.  Until a graze between flesh, a flash in my eyes, and a game that has spun deliriously out of control.  The game has always been about how to stay one step ahead of everyone else while continuing to be two steps ahead of her, never winning, never ending.  It's been years of spinning the lies, influencing circumstances to always pan out in my favor.  I have never felt regret or remorse for the things I have done, until I look in her blue eyes-warm, trusting, open-she sees right through me, ruptures the walls that I have placed up around my heart, around my mind.  She slices through it all, with just one look, one touch, she cracks my resolve and brings the world down around me, and she doesn't even know.

She's a part of me, so deeply engrained in my system, the igniter of my addiction, the fuel to the flames of deception.  She's the single piece of truth in my life, and yet, I use her, I deceive, I drain, soak up everything she's willing, and unwilling to give; I consume it all like a starving man's only meal.  The power, the control, it intensifies my need to have her, all of her.

This desire brings me to her doorstep, nearing midnight, my bag weighing heavily across my shoulder, the darkness shrouding my form, and the only sense of light being provided by the moon in the distance.  It's been six months, six months since my last project, six months since I last saw her face, touched her skin, felt her warmth, and experienced her mind.  The drought nearly has me salivating at the opportunity to feel the soft cadence of her mind, let it encircle me; wrap me in a cocoon of sincerity.  Just one fix, one hit of the high her mind provides, I just need one chance to provide that reassurance, to both her and myself, that despite it all, she's still going to be there.  After all, I come back for her.

Cautiously, I raise my hand and tap softly against the wooden frame, the echo resounding in the emptiness of my mind.  I ache for her, to fill my mind with her image, her breath, her scent, pull it in my lungs and let it multiply until I feel like I might explode.  One touch, skin-to-skin, a solidifying stroke that fills me up, lets me know she is still a part of my life. 

Suddenly, a light flickers above, cracking once before establishing itself and its powerful glow.  Raising my head, I prepare myself for the onslaught, the anger, the hurt, the temptation to just take her into my arms, press her body into mine, engulf her small frame, to hold her, to know that she will forgive me, if given the chance to touch her.

The door creaks open, slowly at first and then wider and wider, until her head peaks around the corner.  Her naturally dark hair is pulled loosely on top of her head, a few strands falling around her face, her captivating eyes squinting with sleep, a plain white t-shirt covering her torso, and a pair of black pajama pants adorning her legs.  She's the picture of perfection, one that I just woke up, after disappearing for months on end, not one call, not one text, not one word spoken between us. 

She's my best friend and I can cut her out of my life faster than a blink of an eye and pull her back in just as easily.  She's my toy, an innocent bystander in a sick game of deception, a pawn amongst kings, and even though I know playing with her is wrong, I cannot stop myself, for she is mine, and I will not allow anyone else to have her.

"Autumn," I whisper her name, nothing more than a soft brush in the darkness, sliding between the two of us, solidifying that she is in front of me.

She eyes me skeptically, never pushing the door open, never closing it either.  A balance.  A choice.  She doesn't shut me out, but she doesn't invite me in.  I can feel the adrenaline starting to pump through my veins, the chemicals creating a rapid fire of ideas in my head, opportunities, thoughts, all ways to manipulate her-to consume, take it all in, and plant the seed that erases the latest transgression. 

"What are you doing here, Justin?" Her voice is strained, both from sleep but from pain, I can feel the sadness vibrating off of her in waves, and it flickers against my mind, lashing out and trying to derail everything.  I cannot get caught up in her pain, her worry, her questions; all I can do is assure her that I am back, for now.

"I missed you..."  It's a loaded phrase, the words dangling in the darkness, swirling around her, and the wheels start to turn.  Her eyes give her away, the windows to the soul, and hers have always been mine.  She missed me, too.

She sighs, the air rushing out of her in haste.  She's never been able to fully let me go, to move on from this friendship that has been our security, the one constant in each other's lives.  We're each other's life jackets in a turbulent ocean, the seatbelt in a car crash, and the parachute during the jump.  I won't let her move on, no matter what; I won't give up my place in her heart to anyone, not now, not ever. 

"It's late." Her words are meant to turn me away, to be the nail in the coffin, but I know better.  That's just her way of voicing her disproval of my disappearance and my reappearance.  She never asks for the details and never pushes for the explanation she knows I won't give.

"Better late than never?" 

And with that, the door opens and she steps back to allow me into her house, her heart, and her mind.  It's the rush of vanilla and honey, security and openness, warmth and home.

Stepping inside, the surge of victory hot in my veins, I brush past her, reaching down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek as I walk into the foyer.  The spark of electricity at the contact, it's a buzz that I have yearned for, and I can feel myself falling into her thoughts, trying to find the one piece that she continually tries to cover, to deny.

My fingers are lingering on her face, brushing her hair behind her ears, and never losing my touch on her.  My eyes begin their investigation of her own, hunting, scouring, searching...trying to uncover the buried treasure of her mind.

Alarmingly, she breaks the contact before I can find it, before I can feel the rush of relief in my veins, knowing that everything is how it's supposed to be.

"I'm going to sleep," she says, turning away, and I can feel the annoyance at her defiance transferring into a scowl on my face. 

"Don't be difficult, Autumn," I chastise, reaching out to pull her closer, my hand wrapping around her wrist, holding her near.

Slowly, I take one step closer, my body merely inches from hers, and the only sound is the ragged breaths between us.  Inhaling, I suck in her scent, allow it to seep into my bones, and fill me with her warmth.  God, I've missed her. 

Dipping my head lower and lower, until I am directly in front of her, I start my exploration, skimming my nose along her tender flesh, feeling the connection deepen, opening her world into my own.  Her eyes flutter closed and her defenses are down as she gives herself freely to my touch.  My discovery takes me along her cheek, across the tip of her nose, and to the other side.  Gently, I pull back, replacing the connection with my hands on the side of her neck.  Slowly, I lower my head until I am just barely touching her, feeling the heat of her skin, her flesh, she's finally in my arms, and I plant a kiss on each of her closed eyes.

"You're so beautiful," my voice is barely above a rough whisper and I can hear the intake of breath, the forceful swallow, and the alarm in her thoughts.

"What's wrong?" I ask, pulling back, allowing her the chance to regain a sense of equilibrium.

She shakes her head back and forth, choosing not to say anything and trying to squirm away from me, away from my touch.

Alarmed by her reaction and desperate to find the missing piece in her thoughts, I reach for her hand, the connection surging throughout my mind and I frantically pick through each image that assaults me.  A coffee cup.  A pillow.  Blankets.  Bed.  An alarm clock.  Everything mundane, nothing that matters, nothing of significance, and I can feel the anger brewing, knowing she's hiding something from me. 

I tighten my hold on her hand, yanking her forward and her eyes widen at the forcefulness.  And that's when it slips, that's when her mind flashes the word, the picture, the person.

"Who the fuck is Ryan?"                                    

Chapter 3

Justin's POV

Revelation:

The act or revealing or disclosing.  Something revealed, especially a dramatic exposure of something previously not known or realized. 

The name is like poison in my veins, detonating a fiery protectiveness which radiates out of my chest.  I can feel the anger bubbling like a volcano under the surface, threatening to spillover at the mere idea of someone, anyone other than me, holding a place in Autumn's thoughts.  It's the one thing I have fought so hard to prevent, years and years of guarding and defending Autumn from the people and the world around us.  She's the epitome of innocence and truth, warmth and love.  She's my rock, my one steady constant in a sea of total chaos that threatens to expunge me, and I have never fought harder to keep her sheltered from the madness of my life. 

But the last thing I am going to do is stand idly by, waiting and watching for someone else to swoop in and take Autumn away from me.  She's my best friend, my lifeline, the single piece of truth in my life, and the one girl who has held my heart, without ever knowing, for years.  Autumn is the key, the answer to it all, the beginning, and what I fear, the end. 

"Who the fuck is Ryan?" I ask again, the venom in my voice exuding out with each thought that annihilates me simultaneously.

Autumn looks at me, her mouth hanging open, eyes wide, while her thoughts fire on rapid succession.  Confusion.  Shock.  Guilt.

She tries to mask it, cover it all in a façade of neutrality but I can still feel the undertones of the hidden thoughts.

"How do you know about Ryan?" she asks, he voice steady but my hand wrapped around her wrist provides all the answers I need. 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I ask again, knowing the anger is apparent in my voice.

Suddenly, she rips her hand out of my grasp, severing the connection I have to her mind, to her thoughts, to the truth behind the words.  Her breath is heavy, chest rising and falling quickly while her cheeks are reddening with embarrassment-shame-anger.

"How do you know, Justin?  I haven't spoken or heard from you in six months, six months that you just disappear, like you always do, not one note, one call, one explanation."

"You never ask for an explanation."

"And I'm not asking for one now."

"Quit avoiding the question..." I chastise.

She sighs and I can hear the defeat in her breath, the slump in her shoulders, and the tired look in her eyes.  She can never turn me away, no matter how hard I push, or pull away, she's always there.  And tonight, despite her front, is no different.

Taking a deep breath, she says, "If I tell you who he is, will you tell me how you know?"

"Yes." 

She gives me a disapproving look before giving in, reluctantly.  I never divulge the truth, well at least not technically.  "He's a guy I've been seeing for about a month."

"Is it serious?"

"Kind of, I don't know.  We're just dating."

"When are you seeing him again?"

She shakes her head-refusing to continue.  "How did you know, Justin?"

"Trace."  It's the first thing to pop into my head-other than the truth. 

She sighs, rolling her eyes in frustration.  "Figures, I should have known.  He was the one to introduce me to Ryan, of course he would tell you.  He tells you everything."

Not really.

Trace has never divulged much when it comes to his friendship with Autumn.  In fact, if Trace had his way, he'd remove me from the equation all together, take Autumn away from me so that I can't ever reach, touch, or manipulate her again.  He might not understand the depth of the connection I feel for Autumn, or that she feels for me, but he knows damn well how much of an addiction it is, a confounded string of memories, present situations, and future aspirations that encircle each other.

"He introduced you to him?" I ask incredulously.  My anger is bubbling under the surface, simmering to a boil and my hands automatically clench into fists.  I literally want to pound Trace's face in.  "That mother-" I cut myself off, a slight whisper under my breath.  He's officially the next stop on my list of places to go, now that I am back.  "You can't see this guy, Autumn."

Her eyes widen, clearly taken aback by my brashness.

"Ever again...I mean it."

Taking a deep breath, as if she's trying to regain some type of composure, she turns away from me, blowing me off and heading up the stairs.

"End it," I yell to her retreating form, finality in my words.

She spins on her heels, her eyes alive with a fire that I have rarely seen unleashed from its cages before.  "You expect me to end it with a guy who treats me a hell of a lot better, and with much more respect, than you ever have, just because you're back and can't stand the idea that someone else might be more important than you?"

Her words sting, hitting too close to home and threatening to break any ounce of composure I am holding onto.  Autumn has never put anyone ahead of me in her life as I've never given her the opportunity to do it.  Obviously this last trip has shaken the foundations that we have established, and I absolutely refuse to let some nobody ruin the one good thing in my life, the one person that holds me together.

I take a couple steps up her stairs, closing in on her like a predator stalks his prey.  My steps are confident, the definitive aura settling in around me.  I am not letting her go, not now, not ever.  The unsureness flickers behind her blue eyes, knowing that I am unwilling to back down from what I want.  And right now, I want her.

"You will end it, Autumn."  I take the last few steps with a steady stride, the anger dissipating and the confidence settling in at my words, through my body, squarely planting itself in my head. 

One touch.  One glimpse.

Reaching for her arm, I ease at the contact, skin-to-skin, the reassurance I need fluttering under the surface.  She's scared.  And with fear comes vulnerability.

"You belong with me...nobody else, Autumn."

"Why do you do this, Justin?" she whispers, the defeat clear in her voice, the defensiveness sliding away...for now.  "Is this a game to you?  Is that what I am, a game?"

I tighten my hold, allowing the images of our past to wash over me like a tidal wave, soothing the ache in my chest. 

The birthday parties.  Nights spent on the couch. Comforting her at her parents' funeral.  The long nights holding her as she cried out her broken heart.  Piecing it all back together again.  The laughs.  The smiles.  The tears.  She was, and still is, everything.

"You've never been a game, and you're not one now.  But if you think I am going to stand by and let someone else have you, hold you, kiss you, and touch you..." I trail off, my eyes dipping to her full lips.  The soft, plush skin, a quick touch, a spark that ignites the fire, just one kiss to seal my fate, and it's all over.  "You don't know me very well then, Autumn."

She swallows deeply, the nervousness pooling her mind but the desire is hiding there as well.  Autumn has never been able to hide her attraction, and there's always been a part of me that feeds off that.  To know that the one person who controls me, so easily, can wind me up like a spring and take me down a notch all within the same second-to know that she feels the same, even if she won't admit it-for now, that's enough. 

"Goodnight, beautiful.  I'll see you tomorrow morning," I whisper, planting a light kiss on her cheek before severing the connection and walking away from my eternal sun.

Immediately, I miss the heat, her light, her ability to consume all my thoughts with just one look, one touch.  One thought and she spins my world off its axis.  As I reach for the door, I pull it open, refusing to look back at her, knowing that walking away won't be an option after being apart from her for six months.  Six months without her touch, her mind, her thoughts.  God, I've missed her.

Stepping into the cool night air, the chill is enough to snap me out of the haze and bring me back to the present.  The cloudiness lifts from my mind and the silence is a welcomed presence that I have been missing.  Six months of constant work. Scrutinizing, plotting, scheming. Six months of deception, pretending to be anything but me; dissolving my life here, cutting anyone and everyone out of my life for their own protection--for my own safety--to be able to focus on the task-at-hand.  Get in, get out, and always come back for Autumn.

Sliding my finger against the un-lock button on my keyless entry system, my Benz comes to life, shining light into the dark street.  Stepping inside, the smell of leather assaults me, the twinge of new car smell still lingering in the small space.  I've missed my other baby.

Starting the car, I pop the clutch, speeding off in the direction of Trace's house, not giving one damn that he's probably sleeping or that I am about to barge into his house.  That mother fucker has a lot to answer for.

Starting with hooking Autumn up with someone else.

Chapter 4

Autumn POV

Weak. 

That's what I am around him...

Some fragile little girl that is thrust into his turbulent, dysfunctional mind, and no matter how hard I try to block him out, I always give in.  It's pathetic that one person can screw with my head and my emotions on such a grand scale.  That he can tilt my entire world off its orbit with one swoop in through the door, leaving me clawing at the edges of sanity and barely holding onto any semblance of self. 

It's been like that for fifteen years, fifteen years ago my life altered in ways I will never be able to fully understand.  What I believed to be my savior in the sea of tumultuous waves, guiding me through the long, narrow halls of the schools, sheltering me from the snide comments about being the new girl.  He stood up, grabbed my hand, and changed my world forever. 

He was my protector then...and he still is now.

I've never been able to understand the pull toward one another, the feeling as if we are the sun and moon, the forces of gravity drawing us back to one another-no matter the time or the distance-we always come back to each other.  It's a sick and twisted spiral that I can't seem to find my way out of.  I don't know if it's the fact that I don't try hard enough to really separate myself from his pull, or if I am physically and psychologically unable to imagine my life without him.

Things with Justin have been complicated...to say the very least.  A friendship that started off innocently enough, a boy protecting a girl, the golden child sticking up for the lost cause, or so I thought. 

Ever since that first touch of our hands in the  hallway fifteen years ago, there's been this undeniable connection, this desire, or need, I don't really know which one is stronger, to have control over each other.  A game of possession.  Somehow I always find myself being the pawn, the one being possessed by him though.

Outsiders have witnessed first hand the destruction and chaos that Justin can cause.  The way he can tear my world apart in a second and set it back on its rightful-according to him-path.  It's always a collision course with his own.  As long as he is in control, everyone else seems to fall into step behind him.

Justin has this way to bend people's will to fit his idea of what is right, or more specifically, what he wants.  Despite his often over-bearing, headstrong attitude, his charisma attracts people like a moth to a flame.  There's a fascination, a need to understand what does not want to be understood and capture what refuses to be caged.  He gets what he wants by remaining this uncontrollable creature, preying through the night upon the weaker, consuming anything and everyone in his path and ensuring his own survival above all.

He's a predator.

And yet, he's my protector

He's been there to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, mend the bleeding wounds that threatened to erase my existence, and hold me while the grief, the sorrow, and heartache engulfed me.  When I need someone the most, he is by my side, whispering words of friendship, love, and lifetimes together.  He's held me together when I feel like falling apart. 

Justin has been there for it all.

And no matter what, no matter how much anger builds or destruction is caused, I can't turn my back on someone that has never turned his back on me.  Despite the dysfunction.

Choosing to deal with the warpath left in Justin's wake in the morning, I flip the light switches off as I make my way down the hall, back to bed, and hopefully able to capture the last few hours of peaceful rest before I am thrown back into the tornado of Justin's world. 

Justin's POV

As I drive through the town, feeling the power of the engine and the grip of the wheels on the pavement, it's a calming reassurance that my six month assignment is over.  I'm finally back home and the weight of hiding lifts ever so slightly.  Yet, I know that the next call could come at any minute and thrust me back into the chaos, into the game.  For now though, I will enjoy whatever piece of sanctity I can get.

Rounding the final corner towards Trace's house, I remember the reason I am speeding down the road, the name floating in the recess of Autumn's mind, and the person ultimately responsible for that name being there in the first place.  Pulling into the driveway, I kill the engine and jump out, tucking my keys into my pocket and make quick work up the winding path to Trace's door.  Finally reaching his step, I grab the spare key underneath the third decorative rock off to the left and head inside.  I have every intent of waking his ass up.

The anger begins to simmer under my skin, pulsing slightly through my veins with each step I take further into the darkened house.  It slithers precariously from my chest to my arms to my legs.  I can feel it sinking its claws into my entire being, swelling and growing at an alarming rate.  Anger has always been the one emotion I am attuned to, it has the ability to flare up inside me faster than a forest stricken with a burning match.  It's the one emotion I can't seem to control, no matter how hard I fight back against its clutches; it always overpowers my feeble attempts.

Finally, I come to the one door separating myself from Trace, and I pause for just a moment.  My friendship with Trace has been anything but conventional.  There has always been an underlying tension between us, a result of wavering trust and an inability to fully respect each other's own paths.  We've always had a volatile and unsteady friendship, one like the ocean crashing into the shore every so often, creating waves of instability in its wake.  However, just like the water, our frienship always balances itself back out.

Taking a steadying breath, I concentrate on controlling the emotion bubbling below the surface, knowing that if I don't, things could grow rapidly out of hand.  Several more deep breaths of trying to rein in the rage, and I crash my hand against the flimsy metal knob.

"What the fuck, man?" I scream, throwing the door open as I enter, not giving one damn about the crash against the wall.

Trace immediately shoots up from his bed, the blankets falling around his waist as he tries to adjust his eyes to the sudden intrusion.

"What in the hell?" he yells, rubbing his hands against his face as he gathers his bearings.  He blinks rapidly at me, hoping to gain some sense of understanding.  "Justin?"

I hastily flip on the lights, my chest heaving with the anger that is now exploding in white hot flashes throughout my body.  Yet, the betrayal settles itself on top of my already weakened frame of mind, and I can feel the control slipping away.

"What the fuck are you doing, Trace?" I ask furiously, taking a few more steps into the room.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing here right now?  You scared the shit out of me," he answers, throwing the covers back and standing up. 

"Answer me, Trace.  Answer me right fucking now!  What have you been doing?"

"What are you talking about?" he responds, confusion written all over his face.

All the does is grow the anger inside.  The hurt and betrayal is quickly multiplying like a cancer in my system.  The feeling of a knife being shoved perfectly between my two shoulder blades is quickly becoming a reality as he stands across the room with a blank, innocent expression on his face.

Finally, I snap, the control I was fighting for evaporating in an instant.

"I fucking had your back, man.  All those years together, all the trouble we caused along the way, who was right there by your side through it all?" I spit, the anger pulsating against my body like an animal trapped in a cage, vibrating with a need to get out, to explode in fury.  "I never would have done you like that.  I go away on business for a couple of months only to come back and find out that you, of all people, are playing matchmaker with Autumn.  Setting her up with someone else.  That's dirty, man, even for you." 

Trace's eyes are wide, finally the pieces settling into this neat and tidy puzzle inside his head.  "You're going to bust into my room at..." he looks around, spotting a clock on the table, "one o'clock in the morning to yell at me because I introduced Autumn to a guy?"

I take a step forward, my hand automatically clenching into a fist, my head no longer in control of my body. 

"You've been gone for six months, Justin.  Are we all supposed to put our lives on pause because the golden boy has left?" he seethes, his own anger exuding itself.

I take a step closer, fully intending to lay into him, but he continues. 

"I'm over this fucked up idea that we all owe you something, that the world is your little sandbox and we're all just your toys to do with what you please.  Especially when it comes to Autumn.  The way you treat her, string her along like your little puppet, leaving for months on end, no call, no note, completely cut off from everything involving you.  She doesn't deserve the chaos that you bring."

"That's not your call to make," I yell.  "You don't understand my situation and you never will."

"Exactly, I won't understand.  But that doesn't mean I have to stand by and watch her be manipulated and tossed around by your twisted games."

I take one more step forward, putting myself chest to chest with Trace, and I look down into his eyes.  "Screwing with me, especially when it comes to Autumn, is the quickest way to find yourself on my bad side.  Stay out of Autumn's love life, she doesn't need your help," I tell him, punctuation each word with a little more force than necessary before turning around and walking out of his room.

"She doesn't need yours," he yells at my retreating form.

But it doesn't matter, the damage has already been done.  The seeds of doubt have already been planted and it's my job to erase their roots before anything more can take hold of Autumn. 

Nobody will ever understand the depth I am willing to go to in order to protect my relationship with Autumn.  Nobody.

Exiting Trace's house in the same blaze of glory I entered it in, I hop back into my car and start driving in the direction of my own house.  But not before shooting off one quick text.

"No matter how dark the night, somehow the sun rises once again and all shadows are chased away." -  Meet me at 9, our place.  J.