Before Rowlett's smile even had the chance to vanish, that single siren was echoed by a choir of sirens. And it was only a second after his frown appeared that a voice boomed through a distant megaphone. "You're surrounded!"

I would have thought the approach the police made was extremely dumb, for they had just lost the element of surprise, but that was before I realized how long the police had actually been here. I discovered this in a moment, when concentrated lights suddenly flashed in the darkness behind Rowlett and Fern.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as I stared at Rowlett's face, waiting for him to pounce. He had three options. He could wait to get captured; he could run—and undoubtedly get caught while doing so—or he could grab one of his prisoners by the neck. In the split second before he acted, I prayed that it would not be the last.

Then the second was gone and all chaos broke loose.

Shouts rang throughout the entire complex; lights bounced off the walls and faces; and somewhere in the middle of this nightmare, I was dragged to the ground by some force. A fragment of my conscious mind told me it was Rowlett, but then the force was gone, replaced by a voice. "Stay down!" it hissed in my ear.

Over the clamor, I could not identify the voice's owner, but I obeyed nonetheless, too confused to try anything else. Curled up on the floor with my hands over my head, I waited. I waited for what felt like all of eternity for the noise to die down, for the pandemonium to end.

And as I lay there, shaking and barely breathing, all I could think about was my mother. All arguments were forgotten. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to hear her voice, to see her smile, to feel her warm embrace.

But all I felt was the hot tears that streamed from my eyes to my quivering lips. And even in this moment of regret, I thought of Ashton's mother—his real mother. I thought about how much she must have hurt him when she left. He didn't even have a mother to miss at a time like this. The mother he had once had was long dead, and she had surely taken his memories with her.

"You're okay, you're okay," I whispered to myself as my shudders finally began to recede.

A hand landed suddenly on my shoulder, causing me to jerk out of my position. I had lost track of what was going on around me, and now that I was shaken back to reality, I felt sure I was in danger. When my fear-filled eyes snapped upward, they landed on a man with a flashlight. A man in a policeman's uniform.

A shudder swept through my body, but it was soon followed by a breath of relief as I accepted the man's hand. He pulled me to my feet slowly, and I looked around finally, seeing what had become of Rowlett's den.

Outside my small cell, I could see that the place had been ransacked. Of course, I had no idea what it had looked like before, but the overturned tables and shattered beer bottles appeared new. And then there was the absence of gangsters. All I could see at the moment was policemen and...news people?

That wasn't what I wanted to see though. Turning frantically to the policeman by my side, I asked him, "Where's Ashton?" When he didn't reply immediately, I repeated the question, my voice shaking. "Where is he? The guy who was with me earlier? The one with the red and black shirt."

The policeman—whose uniform read "Officer Kennings"—placed a hand on my shoulder and reassured me, "Your friend is all right. He's been taken outside."

I blinked rapidly at the officer. "T—taken?" I said it blankly, not quite understanding.

"Yes," Officer Kennings said slowly, before guiding me through the large room and toward an open door that I assumed led outside.

Feeling somewhat wobbly, I winced as thoughts swam around in my head. Somehow I formed another question. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days."

"Three? Where is here?"

"Detroit."

That made sense. Detroit was crime central in Michigan, and it happened to be only thirty miles south of Meadowfield. Thus, it was no surprise Rowlett's gang was based here. But to think that the police hadn't caught him yet seemed awfully strange to me. Why now?

When I stepped outside into the sunrise, my eyes landed on the reason. Ashton Savvonski. Of course he had been the one to notify the cops. Rowlett had been a fool to think Ash would come without some form of backup. He must have become extremely comfortable in his crime to have underestimated Ash so seriously.

For both Ashton's and my sakes, I was incredibly thankful for Rowlett's oversight. But I was even more thankful for Ash. If it weren't for him, I would probably still be strapped to a metal chair, praying that Josh would not return.

Speaking of Josh, he was standing next to Ash, his hands cuffed behind his back and his face an ugly mess. But that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the fact that he was standing right beside Ash. Why were they together? Through the fog in my thoughts, I tried to wrap my head around what was going on.

Officer Kennings was asking me something, but I ignored him and lurched forward a few steps, drawing closer to the two boys. I needed to know what was going on. Why did this look so wrong? Why couldn't my eyes focus? A wave of nausea swept over me, but I somehow stayed on my feet. Perhaps the only thing that held me up was the desire to know—to understand.

As I took another step forward, Ashton turned slightly, his back facing Josh. What I saw brought me to a complete stop. I prayed that my eyes were deceiving me, but even in my dizziness, I knew they told no lies. And I knew without a doubt that Ashton's hands were bound together by a pair of cuffs.

My breath caught in the back of my throat. Turning to Officer Kennings, I stuttered, "Why is he—?" Suddenly the ground smiled up at me and I felt myself falling toward it, but the officer caught me before I could face plant.

"Have a seat, miss," he told me, motioning toward a crumbling bench to my right.

I obeyed, if only for the sake of my nausea. Sitting down felt good, but my head did not stop spinning. I brought a trembling hand to my skull and considered asking what was going on with me, but then my thoughts returned to what was really troubling me.

"What areyyyou doing to Assshhhh?" I slurred, running my hand up and down on my head.

Officer Kennings did not respond. My half-open eyes watched as he turned and yelled something at another policeman. I looked past them both at Ash. My blurred vision told me he was looking at me too, but a second later he was stepping into the backseat of a squad car.

"Ash," I whispered, just as a searing pain shot through my skull. Then my eyes closed, and I gave myself up to gravity.

Waves. White rolling waves. That was the first thing I saw when my eyes next opened. Above my head, in a room lit by golden sunlight, white waves rolled across the ceiling. I stared for a second, before my brain caught up. Where am I?

Blinking, I lifted myself up on my elbows to observe my new surroundings. To my surprise and befuddlement, I found myself in what appeared to be a hospital room. It was perhaps the nicest hospital room I'd ever been in, but I'd never actually been to the hospital as a patient. Which begged the question...

What happened to me?

I looked down at myself, but I looked fine. My hands were pale but healthy. My arms had a few scrapes but were otherwise fine. The rest of my body was under a white sheet, so I could not examine it, but the only pain I could sense was a slight soreness in my limbs. So why was I here, in a hospital room, surrounded by white walls and the faint smell of sanitizer?

In my confusion, I'd hardly had the sense to look at the chair to my right, and when I did, a flood of relief filled me. In the chair slouched my very own mother, her eyes closed, mouth open, and chest rising and falling slowly in time with her breathing. Her makeup was still on, and the streaks down her face told me that she had been crying. In her hands was my blood-stained flannel; and, though she was sleeping, I could tell that she was clutching it tightly.

I wanted to reach out and wake her, to let her know that I was all right, but I held back, not wanting to disturb what little sleep she was getting. Instead, my gaze shifted to the chair next to hers. It was empty, but a sound to my left pulled my attention to the door that my father had just opened.

"Dad," I whispered, my heart swelling.

His eyes widened when he saw that I was awake, and I had to force myself to not leap out of bed and run to him. My parents were here. Everything was going to be all right. "Dad!" I said again, louder this time.

The second my father reached my bed, I threw my arms around him and clung on tightly. Water brimmed in my eyes as I whispered, "I missed you, Dad." I meant it too. While I'd been thinking about my mother, I had missed my father just as much.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he whispered back to me, patting my hair comfortingly. I let out a quiet sob in response, and he pulled back to look me in the eyes. "You're safe, Maine. You're okay. You're safe."

I nodded my head, but the tears continued to stream from my eyes. "I love you, Daddy," I said, bringing a hand up to wipe away the moisture on my face.

My mom stirred at the sound of our voices, and my head snapped in her direction. "Mom!" I cried, hardly able to contain myself.

Her eyes found me, and she pulled herself from her seat almost instantly. "My baby!" she exclaimed, drawing me into her arms without hesitation. Her hand ran up and down my back soothingly as she planted kisses on my hair. Then she pulled back suddenly, concern in her eyes. "Are you feeling okay, sweetie? Does your head hurt?"

I just stared at her, my eyes sad. I didn't want to cry anymore, but I could hardly stop my lips from quivering. "I'm so sorry, Mom," I told her, unable to meet her gaze. "I should have been more careful."

My mother sighed before pulling me back to her chest. "It's okay, sweetie," she reassured me in a calming voice. "I'm just glad you're safe. Do you know how worried we were?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

She leaned back, smoothing my hair. "I'm sorry too, honey."

"No, don't—"

She cut me off, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm sorry—I'm sorry for not trusting you."

"Mom, it's my fault," I countered. "I was the one who betrayed your trust, and for that I am so sorry."

She smiled sadly at me before squeezing me one last time. "I forgive you, sweetheart."

"I forgive you too," I told her, squeezing her back.

My father spoke up then. "Your friends are in the waiting room. If you're feeling well enough, you can see them."

I turned to him gratefully, before remembering something. "Wait—do you know what was wrong with me? Why I'm in the hospital?"

"You suffered a concussion and the doctors said you were extremely fatigued from lack of fluids." My father's brow furrowed, as if it troubled him to say it.

I nodded my head slowly, beginning to understand why I had felt so dizzy at Rowlett's complex. It was no wonder I had gotten a concussion after all those blows to my head. That made me wonder how Ashton was faring. I looked suddenly at my parents to ask them, but thought better of it. "I feel better now," I told them, smiling softly. "Can I see my friends now?"

My parents shared a glance before my mother said, "Sure. You can see them."

"I'll go get them," my father said and headed out the door.

When we were alone, my mother reached out to touch the top of my head. "Are you sure your head feels okay?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "It doesn't really hurt anymore."

"Good," she said, relief flooding her eyes. "We were so worried. We came back home as soon as we heard the news, and then we had to wait two days before they even found you. Were you scared?"

Now was not the time to laugh, but I couldn't help myself. A chuckle on my lips, I wondered aloud, "What do you think, Mom? They were only gangsters."

She smiled in turn, before saying seriously, "I thought we'd lost you."

"Well, I'm right here," I told her, taking hold of her hand. I almost blurted that Ashton would not let them lose me, but I refrained for the sake of maintaining peace.

It was probably a good thing I kept quiet, for Britt burst into the room a second later. "Maine!" she practically screamed from the door.

A wide grin broke out on my face as I watched her run across the room. "Britt," I breathed, just as she reached me.

"Maine," she said again, pulling me into a hug. "I can't believe this happened."

When she drew back, I shrugged my shoulders and glanced at my mother. She smiled at me before standing back and saying, "We'll leave you two alone—or you three alone."

I followed her gaze to the door where David was just entering. He lifted a hand in greeting, to which I responded with a smile. "Hey, Dave," I said as soon as he had stepped past my parents.

"Hey," he said, stopping next to Britt. I glanced back and forth between them both before becoming distracted by my parents who were waving at us.

I waved back, smiling until they had closed the door and left. Then I turned my focus to Dave and Britt. "Nothing happened to you guys, right?"

"No," Britt said, heaving a sigh. "The bullies left us alone." I was about to ask her why she sounded almost disappointed, but then she went on to say, "I still can't believe I picked such a fail of a guy to be my first boyfriend."

"Me neither," I heard Dave mutter under his breath, but Britt ignored him.

"He's not just a jerk. He's a psycho," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

I looked down at my hands as the memory returned to me. His tongue. His tongue all over me. I could barely swallow as my gaze shifted back to my friends. I didn't want to say it, but I found myself blurting it anyway. "He licked me."

Dave and Britt stared at me, their faces frozen. I could hardly blame them, and I cringed at my own words. Their silence almost felt worse than what I'd said, so I tried to laugh it off. "Creepy, right?" I said, smiling in a somewhat crazy way.

Britt just coughed. Dave looked down before saying darkly, "I'm going to kill that punk."

I looked at him in alarm, but Britt shook her head at me. I took that as my opportunity to ask the question I really wanted answered. "Where is Ashton?" I questioned, hoping they wouldn't hear the panic in my voice. It wasn't that I was panicked. I was just, well—panicked.

The look Britt and Dave exchanged didn't help my mental state at all. For a second, it seemed that they would not respond at all, but then Britt was turning to me and saying hesitantly, "He's still at the police station."

"What?" the word spilled out of my mouth faster than my mind could even process what Britt had just said. Police station? Still? So they did have him handcuffed yesterday. "But—but why is he—"

"He turned himself in," Dave told me, appearing as if he wanted to be saying anything but this.

My eyes narrowed in confusion. I was sure I did not understand, but just as I opened my mouth to speak, the reality of the situation came crashing down on me. "You mean—drugs?"

Dave stared at me for all of five seconds, his expression cryptic. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "You knew about that?"

I glanced toward the door to make sure we had no visitors before saying, "He told me about it once. He said he had dealt with drugs before."

Britt's eyes widened. "And you didn't blow his head off?"

I laughed, although there was nothing humorous about this at all. "I wanted to," I admitted. "But that was before I realized that he had already had his head blown off—in a sense." I shifted my gaze to Dave. "Last year was his worst, wasn't it?"

Dave raised his eyebrows, again surprised. Then he answered me. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, every year has been rough since—but he earned his title last year."

I nodded my head slowly, just as Britt cut in. "I really hate being the one to tell you this, but your parents know about him now."

"Know about him?" I repeated, not quite understanding. "What about him?"

"Exactly what we just said," answered Dave. "The drugs. His reputation. Everything."

I felt as if my world had just ended, but at the same time, a small thread of hope wove its way into the situation. "And do they know that he turned himself in?"

Britt glanced at Dave before saying, "I—I guess they must. The police told them most of it, and the Savvonskis undoubtedly covered the rest."

I breathed a sigh of relief, to which my friends responded by giving me weird looks. Chuckling slightly, I tried to explain myself. "I know, I know, I shouldn't be relieved. I guess I'm just happy that everything is finally out in the open. Now maybe my parents can make a decision not based merely on rumors."

"You mean you're only doing what your parents tell you to do?" Britt asked, quirking an eyebrow.

I smiled somewhat at that. "I know I sound like a goody two shoes, but I guess that's what I am. It's not that I necessarily want to do what they say. It's just that I don't think they'll ever let me see Ash if I don't follow their advice. They're just trying to protect me—although I'll admit I wanted to wring my mom's neck a few days ago."

Britt grinned. "That's the Maine I know. Good, but fake."

My jaw dropped. "Excuse you?"

"I'm just saying," she replied, that goofy grin still plastered across her face. Then her expression changed, just in time for another question. "Wait, so you admit that you like him?"

I rolled my eyes in response. "I thought we already covered this."

"Dave wasn't here then," was her excuse.

Dave laughed, somewhat unsure about being suddenly pulled into our girl talk. He spoke nonetheless. "It's not like I didn't already know."

I threw my head back in exasperation, but Britt just looped her hand through Dave's arm and grinned up at him. "That's more like it!"

I noticed the redness in his face just in time to turn the conversation around, "What about you two then?"

Britt stared at me blankly, but Dave coughed, knowing exactly what I was talking about. Then he was doing everything he could to stop the direction this was going. In haste, he removed his arm from Britt's grasp and cleared his throat. "That's not a thing," he said with his best straight face, to which I responded with a snicker.

Britt was beyond confused, looking back and forth between us. I didn't even consider telling her what was going on. She was going to have to wait for Dave to come around before she found out.

I changed the subject for both of their sakes. "Do you know if they caught Rowlett?"

Dave shot me a grateful expression, but I just laughed at him with my eyes. Meanwhile, Britt actually went about answering my question. "Yes," she said, happy to tell me the news. "They caught pretty much the whole gang—including Josh."

"Thank God," I breathed, probably feeling more relieved than anyone else. It was about time those boys—and girls—ended up behind bars. The thought of bars sent my brain spinning in an entirely different direction. "What about Ash?" I asked them, suddenly worried. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He's having a court hearing this afternoon," Dave said soberly. My stomach clenched at the thought, but a voice at the door eased my internal qualms.

"He'll probably get sentenced to several hours of community service," the voice announced. My head whipped in the direction of the door, and I could hardly stop my mouth from opening. It was my mom. My mom was saying this. With eyes full of regret, she approached the bed and told me, "He turned himself in, showed repentance, and helped the cops catch the real criminals—the ones who coerced him into doing all those things as a minor. According to the police chief, his crime was not that bad. As far as I can tell, the odds are all in his favor."

I still couldn't respond. Was my mom really seeing Ashton in a favorable light? "Mom," I finally stuttered, hardly believing my ears.

She still refused to smile, but what she said next made up for everything. "I'm sorry, Maine. I'm afraid I was mistaken when it came to this Savvonski kid. He was the one who went in to save you, and he took it like a man when I screamed at him."

I tilted my head. "Mom, you—what?"

She looked down at her hands, appearing embarrassed. "I guess you could say I flew off the handle a bit when I found out what happened to you. And I—I blamed that kid because he was the one who knew the thugs who kidnapped you. But without him, I don't know if we ever would have found you. So I'm sorry, Maine. I guess the kid isn't that bad."

I couldn't help but grin. "The kid?"

My mother laughed too, embarrassed to be saying this in front of both my friends and me. "Not—not 'the kid.' Ashton." She had trouble saying his name, but she forced it out anyway. "Ashton."

I laughed, feeling as if a weight had been removed from my shoulders. I realized that my mother still had a long way to go before she fully accepted Ash, but this was a huge step in the right direction, and for that, I was incredibly thankful.

As I was smiling at my mother, I noticed the door open behind her, revealing three familiar faces. My father led the way, but it was the couple behind him that surprised me.

"Pam! Jacob!" I exclaimed, nearly forgetting about my utter humiliation during our last meeting.

Pam offered me her award-winning smile, and Jacob gave me one of his curt nods. Both had me beaming from ear to ear. But the cherry on top really was when my mom turned around and didn't yell at them. "Is the hearing already over? How did it go?" she asked instead, and I sensed real concern in her tone.

When Pam replied, I was relieved to find that there was no animosity at all in her voice. All I could hear was relief as she said, "It went really well! The judge was very understanding, and he only sentenced Ash to community service."

"Good, good," my mother replied, and I thought I could see traces of a smile on her lips. Then she was stepping aside so that Pam could approach my bed.

"How are you feeling, Maine?" Pam said as soon as her eyes shifted to me.

I smiled, saying, "I feel great." I really did, too. My family was here. My friends were here. I was safe. Rowlett had been caught. Ash hadn't been punished too severely. What more could one ask for?

Pam laughed. "You sound pretty chirpy for someone recovering from a concussion."

I smiled up at her, unable to think of a response. Dropping her hand, she took a breath before saying, "I hope you don't think my husband and I are mad at you."

My smile faltered as her meaning hit me. "Uh..."

"We all love you," Pam said suddenly, surprising me. My eyes widened, but that didn't stop her from going on. "We just didn't want you and Ash to get into any more trouble, so we thought it was best to let you go."

I could feel a blush coming on, and it didn't help that I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Avoiding their gazes, I muttered, "I know. And I think you did the right thing. I was just—really embarrassed." I let out a weak laugh before tentatively peeking up at Pam and my mother.

Pam was smiling at me, and my mother was neither smiling nor frowning. I took that as a good sign, considering how she used to feel about Ashton. I wanted to explain the kiss to her, but with such an audience, I decided it was best to leave for later.

Instead, I took a deep breath and addressed them both. "I'm sorry for messing up."

My mother smiled at me graciously. "It's okay," she said, before adding on a less serious note, "Just keep your lips to yourself."

I nearly choked on my own spit. Britt let out a snort, somewhat ironically. I was just about to die of embarrassment, when my father spoke up from the other end of the room. "I second that!"

I couldn't help but laugh then. My face was already the color of my pink hospital robe, so I didn't even bother to stop it anymore. And through my chuckles, I got the word out, "Deal."

Too mortified to meet anyone's gaze, I was surprised when Pam spoke up again. "You know, Maine, you might not be able to work at our place anymore—but I won't mind if you visit Ash every now and then."

I nodded, noting with relief that my parents didn't look too upset about the idea. "Of course. Thank you."

Just as I said the words, another figure appeared in the doorway. As soon as my eyes landed on him, the distractions around me began to fade. All I could focus on was Ashton Savvonski leaning against the door frame, a smile on his lips.

He was looking at me like he knew something the rest of the room didn't. Like he knew my very thoughts. Like we had just shared a secret. Probably because we had.

I could hardly help but smile back. Seven weeks ago, he'd been glaring at me from a detention seat—now I was smiling at him from a hospital bed. There was no telling where we'd be in the next seven weeks.

Needless to say, I was looking forward to it this time. 

fin