He’s not an extravagant man compared to his cars and the size of his home. The only jewelry he has is a subtle watch encasing his left wrist. It shines and catches your attention if you’re looking, but it’s not gaudy and I think I see a silver chain under the collar of his sweater.

We remain silent, no one is sure what to say to him. We don’t want to include our parents, but we’re foolish to think that we can handle their world on our own. Jonas is part of the big league.

“I asked a question and you will not ignore me, kids. Who is responsible for the mangled motorcycle that is in my garage?”

Next to me, Riggs remains stiff and if I listen close enough, I’m sure I can hear his teeth grinding. He is not happy about Mr. Tucker’s interference. But really, what can he expect when he brings his bike here? He isn’t used to parental intervention, but that’s what happens in our world. Parents get involved.

Jensen spares a hesitant glance at Riggs and gives an uneasy shrug. Riggs’ fists clench into white knuckled lumps in his lap. I reach over and place my hand on his thigh for support.

“It’s Jonas, Dad.” Mr. Tucker’s head jerks back in surprise but his emotions are clamped down.

“The Myers’ kid?” Jensen nods. “What is he doing?” This time, Jensen seeks my approval.

“Because I broke up with him, he’s become a bit obsessed with me. Sort of stalking me,” I say, so J doesn’t have to. Under Mr. Tucker’s stare, I shrivel. There is no real reason to. I don’t care if he judges, but the man just gets to me.

My statement seems to throw him off, but he masks his reaction before it gets out of hand. Instead of telling me he’s sorry for our breakup, he studies me, his expression hard and guarded.

Queasiness overcomes me. Why do I have a sinking feeling I did something wrong by breaking up with him?

“Has he done anything else?”

I don’t want to tell him now, but I won’t get anything past Mr. Tucker. He will keep asking and if I don’t tell him, then he’ll use some other tactic to get it out of Jensen. “One day, he showed up at my house early in the morning when I was out for a run—”

“The Myers don’t live in the community any longer.”

“Correct.”

“So how did he get in?”

“I have no idea. He was impaired,” I explain, and I’m going to take a guess and say this is what it’s like to be in the principal's office.

“What did he want?” Mr. Tucker places his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he leans his hip against the counter, looking only at me. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“He asked me to fake date him so his parents didn’t find out that we split up.” Mr. Tucker tenses and it sets me on edge. My leg jumps to an invisible beat and my grip on Riggs’ thigh tightens.

Jensen’s dad moves around the kitchen. As he goes, he pulls his phone out and taps out a message. It might be a coincidence, but Jensen’s phone vibrates. He checks it but says nothing.

Okay, what the actual fuck is going on here?I slip off the stool I’ve been occupying, needing movement. Riggs follows, wrapping his arm around me.

“Have you involved the police?”

“We filed a report but didn’t name him. After Sam last year, we wouldn’t be that stupid,” Riggs answers him, shocking all of us. Mr. Jensen’s eyes shoot toward my boyfriend, shock registering before his features soften and then he locks them up. Damn these men and their inability to express basic emotions.

“Good. How are you doing, son?” Riggs looks tentative and I’m expecting him to keep silent.

“I’m alright.” That couldn’t be further from the truth, but at least he answered him. Mr. Tucker relaxes, almost as if Riggs’ curt response provides him with relief.Interesting.

Mr. Tucker doesn’t push it, instead he crosses the kitchen and pulls open a drawer. He searches for a beat and something jingles as he removes it. A key fob. He saunters back toward us and stops in front of Riggs before he takes a deep breath. He holds out his hand, the key fob clutched in his fingers.

“This is the oldest, cheapest car we have. The 2000 Audi A6. I want you to have it, at least until you can get a new bike. It’s safer than the bike, especially now that you have a Miller riding with you.” He winks at me and it calms me, despite this entire situation being sketchy as hell. “Please do not argue with me. I’m well aware you don’t want my help and I’m trying to accept that, but you can’t go without a car. Just take it.” He urges the key toward Riggs, who eyes it warily.

After about thirty awkward seconds, Riggs tilts his chin in acceptance and takes the key. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Tucker’s tension settles and he squeezes Riggs’ shoulder, an amiable smile gracing his lips. “I will look into this more. Have you mentioned it to your parents?”

“I told them we broke up because he cheated on me, and that I want nothing to do with him anymore.” It’s odd to admit this, as if I’m tattling on my parents or making them out to be bad, but Mr. Tucker is the only one who has provided any sense of comfort over everything. He’s offering real help to us. I might be wrong about taking advantage of it, but I need it. Jonas is a force I have no clue how to take on and my parents are failing me. “They won’t listen. Say it’s just a bump in our road.”

Mr. Tucker’s piercing eyes harden and his lips are a thin, harsh line across his face. “Don’t worry, Charley. We will figure this out. If he contacts you again, tell me. While at school, stay close to your boys here.”