I haven't told anyone about the gun I saw yesterday – not Ellie, not Charlotte... not even Bailey. Briefly, I toyed with the idea of telling George and Stella this morning, only to have a cork wedged into that plan when I realised that Karen would be joining us at breakfast.

Normally, I wouldn't mind the intrusion, but this was her third visit this week. An 'impromptu catch up,' she called it but, truthfully, there are only so many times a girl can say that everything's great before it starts to sound false.

By the time Karen left, everyone was already behind schedule. Stella was running late for some meeting with a new client, and George had to take the boys for their dental check-up, so there hadn't been any time for me to drop a casual gun-sighting into the conversation before the four of them were all calling out their goodbyes.

So, now, that just leaves me and Bailey in the house. Although, really, it feels a lot more like I'm here alone.

Bailey hasn't surfaced from her room since breakfast.

Unfortunately for me, her absence means I have nothing around to distract me from my thoughts at the minute. Standing at the kitchen sink, I barely see the water jetting from the tap as I fill myself a glass because, in my mind, I can only see one thing.

The gun, completely unassuming in the glovebox of Lucas Coleman's car, sitting mere inches from my knees. A sleek, black killer made of carbon steel and harmful intent.

I never should've gotten in that car.

Until yesterday, I'd never seen a gun before. Not in person, at least. My father never used them, you see. He preferred more... unconventional methods.

I was too young to understand at the time. I didn't know what was happening when I'd hear those screams, loud and relentless, coming from somewhere above us in the main house. I hadn't known what it meant; I just knew that we weren't allowed upstairs when we heard them.

To me, the screams were just normal – as average as the chirp of birdsong or rumble of a car engine in the distance.

Normal.

The thought makes me sick. There was nothing normal about those screams.

With a sigh, I trudge out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the glass clutched in my hand as my mind loses itself to the past memories. As if in some kind of trance, I watch the water as it moves in time with my footsteps, swaying this way and that.

Water.

Red water.

Red water dripping down his face.

I was supposed to stay in my room. I should've stayed in my room – just as I never should've gotten in that car.

Why do I never learn my lesson?

Goosebumps flare along my arms like a poisonous rash as I push the memories away, my feet finding the landing as I turn for my bedroom. Lately, I've caught myself reflecting on my past a lot and I'm not sure why. Usually, I'm pretty good at keeping my demons at bay.

I hate thinking about that shit.

"...I've really fucked it all up."

I stop walking as a voice drifts through from Bailey's closed door: young, male, and definitely not my sister's.

Anger ignites like ethanol inside my chest, freeing me from my reverie as I realise that Alex Coleman – the little shit that he is – is inside the house. If Stella and George find out, they're going to go mental. If Karen and Noah find out... let's not even go there.

"No, you haven't. We'll figure this out," Bailey's voice replies.

I frown and step closer to the door, caught between the urge to barge in screaming and the temptation to stand here and eavesdrop.

Figure what out?

My curiosity wins.

"You didn't see his face, B. He was pissed," Alex sighs, his words strained. "I don't know what to do..."

"Do you think..." Bailey starts, her voice trailing off. "I mean, maybe if you told someone–"

"I told you," Alex interrupts.

"I mean someone other than me," Bailey sighs. "Maybe one of your other friends? Or... one of your brothers?"

"No." Alex's voice is flat – final. "You know as well as I do that I don't have other friends, B. And, my brothers? No – just no. I can't."

My frown etches its way further into my forehead, my ear practically flat against the door by this point. Nothing about this conversation is filling me with any confidence in the kid.

Who has Alex managed to piss off and how? More importantly, why is he dragging Bailey into his mess? Why won't he just leave her alone?

Agitation makes my blood boil, and I shift my weight to the other foot as I wait impatiently for Bailey's reply. Unfortunately, a squeaky floorboard betrays me, alerting the pair to my presence as their conversation cuts off abruptly.

"...Hello?" Bailey calls out after a few beats of silence, and I wince.

Well, might as well get this over with, I guess...

I reach for the handle with a huff, not bothering to knock as I push the door open.

"What the hell are you both playing at?" I demand angrily.

I instantly catch sight of the pair of them. They sit on the floor with their backs against the side of Bailey's bed, their legs spread out in front of them as their feet twist in amongst a scrunch of random blankets – a lot of blankets.

Taking one look at the nest on the floor, and catching sight of the spare pillow Bailey quickly tries to stash under the bed, I almost lose my cool and dump the glass of water over the pair of them.

"Bailey," I snap instead, my eyes widening in disbelief. "Did he sleep here?"

Because that's sure what it looks like... and that would be bad – monumentally bad. Especially as that would mean...

My heart turns to lead in my chest, crushing my lungs as I ask, "Was he here when Karen was here?"

The scowl on her face says it all.

"Oh, my god," I groan, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose as I try to process this. Honestly, I have no words – none, other than, "Alex, I'm sorry but you've got to go."

I open my eyes and look at him, willing him to listen and not make a scene. The bitch fit Bailey's going to throw any second is bound to cause enough of a scene, as it is.

I can see it in her eyes already, brewing like a pot of coffee on an icy winter's morning. She's pissed.

Alex, on the other hand, looks guilty – guilty and... sad? His dull eyes appear tired and defeated, his mouth dipped in a miserable grimace as he runs a hand through his styled, dark hair. He sighs, nods, and starts to stand.

"What? No!" Bailey exclaims, grabbing his wrist to all but yank him back to the floor, refusing to let him move. "Ignore her, Alex. Jade's just being a monumental bitch, as usual."

My hand twitches as the urge to throw the water returns with considerable gusto. I open my mouth to argue but Alex beats me to it.

"No, it's okay, B," he sighs, looking at my sister. Despite his glum expression, he tries for a small yet completely unconvincing smile. "She's right. I knew I shouldn't have come here, I just..." he trails off with a deep, shaking breath, before finishing with a shrug.

I can't be certain but, as he blinks a few times in quick succession, I'm almost positive there's a sheen to his eyes that wasn't there a minute ago.

Alex seems more than just a little sad, he's genuinely upset, and it knocks some of the angry gusto clean out of me.

I sigh and place my glass down on the dresser next to the door, folding my arms and leaning a shoulder against the frame as I take the time to actually see Alex. Not just Alex, 'the Coleman brother', but Alex, 'the fifteen-year-old boy, still a kid, and clearly struggling'.

For some reason, he suddenly reminds me a lot of Oscar. More specifically, of how Oscar seemed that day when I sat with him in his room, discussing his father's letter: distraught, lost, and confused.

Alex is wearing that exact same expression now.

Don't ask. Don't get involved.

But, really, how could I not?

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Still on the floor with Bailey holding him in place, Alex lifts his eyes to meet mine. His cheeks suddenly flush crimson and I raise an eyebrow, reinforcing my question. The only response I get is a break in eye contact as he drops his gaze back to the ground.

Come on, kid. Talk...

After a few seconds of silence, Alex opens his mouth to speak, his intake of breath harsh and heavy. He changes his mind and closes his mouth again, then repeats the process twice more.

His indecision is obvious, his face reserved and uncertain, and I decide not to push him too far in case it makes him clam up completely. Instead, I wait patiently and do my best to ignore Bailey's glare.

"I'm gay!" Alex blurts out.

 The words are loud and rushed, like he feels the need to spit them out fast for fear they might suddenly turn around and crawl back inside his mouth.

The announcement surprises me, I won't lie. From the look on his face, it surprises Alex a little, too.

Before I can say anything, Bailey covers her face with her hand and shakes her head.

"Alex," she groans against her palm. "She was not the 'someone' I had in mind."

***

Okay, I'll be the first to put my hands up and admit that I was wrong about Bailey and Alex.

There I'd been, worried that they were mere days away from dating as he dragged her into his world of crime. In reality, however, he's been running to her all this time for relationship advice – and using her as cover so his brothers wouldn't ask questions when he'd sneak off to see his secret boyfriend. A boyfriend, might I add, who things have turned a little sour with.

Jake – said boyfriend, who he has been seeing for a few months now – is openly gay, and ready to be exclusive about their relationship. Alex, however, is neither of those things.

It's a conflict that's starting to put a bit of a strain on their relationship – and a very difficult situation to be in for the both of them.

"He's going to break up with me, I know he is," Alex says glumly, his eyes red as he holds back tears.

My heart tugs with sympathy from where I now sit, cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

"Don't be dumb. He's not going to break up with you," Bailey assures him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "He's completely smitten, Alex."

Alex shakes his head, a silent disagreement as words seem to fail him.

"What makes you so sure?" I ask him.

If Jake is as sweet on Alex as Bailey says he is, he'll find the patience to wait – surely?

Alex sighs and runs an agitated hand through his hair, then rubs his eye with the heel of his hand as he says, "Because I really fucked things up last night."

I raise an eyebrow and wait. Alex sighs again.

"We were together on a sort of date thing but..." he shakes his head and snorts a bitter laugh. "I didn't want to go anywhere too public, you know? So we ended up biking along that river bank down by the scrapyard – because Jake's a complete nut for anything remotely outdoorsy, so biking literally anywhere is his idea of a good time. And, to be fair, it was a good time, until..."

"Until?" I ask, prompting him to continue when it's clear he's lost steam.

Even though I'm not quite sure where this story's going, the look on Bailey's face says enough for me to know it's nowhere good. She places a sympathetic hand on her friend's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze to spur him on.

"...Until we ran into some of my brother's friends and I panicked," Alex mutters, hiding his face with his hands. "They asked about Jake, and I kind of..." he groans and lifts his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around to hug them tightly, as if that can somehow shield him from his own words. "I told them I didn't really know him, that he was just a regular of Brad's looking to score some pot."

Yep, that'll do it. Alex really has fucked things up.

"And now he won't even text me back," Alex mumbles, dropping his forehead to his knees. "He already thought I was ashamed of him – of us... and then I just had to go and imply that he's some sort of druggie loser. Jake's never touched a splif in his life; he's never going to speak to me again."

"Yes, he will," Bailey assures him, her hand still on his shoulder. "This will all blow over, you'll see."

Possibly...

"Look," I sigh, deciding to give the only piece of advice I can think to offer up. "All you can do is apologise to him, Alex. Just say sorry. But let him cool off for a while first, yeah? He won't listen when he's angry; people rarely do."

"Yeah..." he nods, still looking glum. "Yeah, you're probably right."

My heart well and truly goes out to the kid, all too familiar with the feeling of being broken. But, unfortunately, there's not much else I can do to help him.

"Bailey, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, nodding my head in the direction of the hallway.

After a short internal debate that I'm not privy to, Bailey huffs and stands up, detangling herself from the blankets. "Sure."

I follow Bailey towards the door but, just as I'm about to leave the room, I pause and turn back around.

"Alex?" I ask, regaining his attention from the blankets by his feet as he stares off sullenly into space. I wait until he looks at me before continuing, saying the words just in case he needs to hear them. "It's your choice, who you tell and when you tell them. You know that, right?"

Alex nods but doesn't speak, his cheeks flaming as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck – an action that reminds me of Lucas, a little bit.

"Nobody gets to take that choice from you," I add, driving my point home.

Not even this boy you're clearly in love with.

"So," Alex starts, obviously uncomfortable as he asks, "...you're not going to out me to my brothers, then?"

I blink, surprised by the question.

"Of course not," I assure him, lowering my voice a little so Bailey can't hear me from out in the hallway. "Don't worry. I'm really not the bitch that Bailey says I am."

His relief at my words is so apparent, it's almost painful to watch.

I send a small wave his way before I finally join my sister out in the hallway. Bailey closes the door behind us the moment I'm out, probably because she doesn't want Alex to overhear the ass-whopping she's expecting to receive.

My suspicions are confirmed when she immediately jumps on the defensive.

"Look, I'm not sorry, alright?" she hisses, being sure to keep her voice low. "No one noticed he was here, he's my friend, and he's upset. I guess I just can't be a complete asshole, like you."

I raise my eyebrows at her attitude, folding my arms in an attempt to look stern. I wait for her to get this rant out of her system, as I'm sure she's been dying to do from the second I entered her room.

"I'm not kicking him out," she carries on when I don't say anything. "You can't make me!"

I roll my eyes and snort a short, entirely bemused laugh.

"I wasn't going to," I tell her, truthfully.

I pull my phone out from my back pocket to check the time, sighing when I realise George and the boys could be back at any minute.

Not good.

"Actually," I mutter, changing tactics, "he can't stay here."

Bailey scoffs at the contradiction, preparing to snarl out another insult. I cut back in before she gets the chance to.

"The others will be home soon and they can't see him here, Bailey."

I huff out a frustrated sigh, unsure of how to play this one.

So much for not having to make any more difficult decisions, huh?

And this is arguably one of the worst ones yet; I am literally caught between a rock and a hard place. Only, in this scenario, the rock is actually a gun. And the hard place is a teenage boy in need of his best friend, as he grapples with a crisis of both his heart and his sexuality.

I could kick the poor boy out on his ass and prevent Bailey from going after him. Or, I could risk it – just this one last time – and let her go with him. 

I need her to be safe, but he needs her.

So, please tell me... what the hell am I supposed to do?

*********

(Man, this chapter was a bit of a curveball, huh? I'd love to know if anybody saw this twist coming with Alex and Bailey, so let me know in the comments! And poor Jade, caught in yet another impossible decision. She really didn't see this one coming either, haha.

I'm also considering writing a spin-off story once the main one has been completed, based around Alex and Jake. It could be a fun one to write, don't you think? It'd be great to know if anyone might be interested in reading it?)

*********