11 francesca
“Well, if it isn’t a room full of grown men with my underage daughter,” Gary sneers from the doorway. “What is this- some kind of rotation? You all fucking her now? Do I need to report you perverts? Call that cops on you?”
My stomach drops.
Ryan and Jamie are nineteen. Christian’s twenty-two. Nothing has happened- nothing has ever happened. But I’m seventeen.
If Gary made up lies… would they get in trouble?
I’ve never even thought about it before, because the idea of any of them feeling that way about me feels impossible. But I wouldn’t put it past Gary to say something anyway. To twist it. To make it sound real and dirty and wrong.
Jamie’s chair scrapes back so hard it tips, and he’s on his feet in a second, fury radiating off him like heat.
“Watch your fucking mouth, you piece of shit,” he snarls, already moving.
Christian steps in front of him immediately, one arm shoving Jamie back. Ryan’s hand finds mine and squeezes hard- grounding and steady enough to keep me from losing it completely.
Gary just laughs, holding his hands up. “Hey, man. I’m just calling it like I see it.”
Christian’s voice is calm, but I can hear the steel underneath it.
“What do you want, Gary? There’s no money. Checks haven’t come yet.”
Gary scoffs, taking a step farther into the room, his boots tracking dirt across the rug. I don’t know why I even notice that- why my brain notes it, tracks it, but it does. Just another mess Gary makes of my life, I guess.
“Last I checked, this was still my fucking house.”
Christian doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t flinch. “Actually,” he says slowly, deliberately, “it’s mine.”
That gets Gary’s attention. His nostrils flare, his eyes flick around the room- pupils blown wide, dark and glassy.
“Gary- what are you doing here?” Gram asks, her voice thin but steady, pulling his focus.
“I need money,” he spits. “She didn’t give me any the other day,” he adds, jerking his chin toward me.
“I didn’t have any- I had to get medicine- I swear- ” I start, but he’s already walking into the kitchen, opening the pantry, then the fridge.
“Seems like you have money for groceries,” he says, coming back out and gesturing at the pizza. “You’ve got money to eat out.”
“I bought it all,” Christian says.
Gary sneers. “Of course you did.”
His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he stomps toward the couch where I’m sitting. He looks at me.
“What a whore.”
Ryan is on his feet instantly.
He’s the strongest of the three of them. Christian is bigger, sure, but Ryan is solid muscle and one hard shove to Gary’s chest sends him across the room and onto his ass.
“You little shit!” Gary snarls as he scrambles up. “Fuck you. This is my place. My name’s on the lease-get the fuck out.”
Christian’s voice stays level. Cold.
“We aren’t leaving either of them alone with you. You’re out of your fucking mind- ”
Gary laughs, almost hysterically, as he lifts his shirt.
The knife flashes as he pulls it out.
I gasp, scrambling backward on the couch as Ryan steps in front of me without hesitation.
There’s one frozen second- then Jamie launches forward, grabbing Gary’s wrist and twisting hard. He cries out as the knife clatters to the floor. Jamie snatches it up, leveling it at Gary’s chest with terrifying precision.
“Leave,” Jamie growls. “And don’t come back. We’re watching her. Watching this place. You won’t get to them, you won’t get any more money, so just fucking go before I kill you, you son of a bitch.”
Gary doesn’t even blink, just cradles his wrist to his chest.
“You won’t kill me,” he says calmly. “I die, she goes into the system.”
“No she won’t- ” Gram says weakly, but we all know the truth. No one would give her custody. She’s too sick. Too frail.
Gary smiles. Because he knows it. “Hey, I’m reasonable,” he says, grinning.
My stomach twists.
“What do you say?” Gary continues, looking at Christian now. “A hundred a week to stay away?”
“What?” I whisper.
“Or maybe five,” he adds lightly. “You can afford it, right, rich boy? Five hundred a week and I stay gone. Let you all keep playing house. I disappear.”
“Done.”
My head snaps toward Christian.
“No- Christian, you can’t- ”
“Done,” he says again, not breaking eye contact. “You stay away from her. From Gram. From this house. The minute we see or hear about you, the money stops.”
Gary’s grin is sickening. “Cash,” he says. “I’ll need it in cash.”
“Stop- this is ridiculous,” I say, but no one is listening to me.
“Give me a minute,” Jamie says, handing the knife to Ryan before heading out without hesitation.
It’s… strange, seeing Ryan holding it. In Jamie’s hand it looked almost natural. In Ryan’s, it looks wrong.
I cross the room to Christian. He doesn’t look at me, just holds his arm out, and I step into him automatically, pressing my face to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic clawing its way up my throat.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg. “He’s not worth it. He’ll just keep asking for more.”
Christian just rubs my back slowly, steady and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Gary, who’s still standing there like he’s already won.
Jamie comes back a minute later and hands Gary something.
“I don’t want to see your face. The money will be in box 280 at the post office. That’s the key.”
“Every Friday by noon,” Gary says. “First payment’s this week.”
“Listen to me,” Ryan says, still holding the knife, “you break this deal- ”
“You pay, I stay gone,” Gary says with a gross smile. Then he looks straight at me. “Bye, whore.”
He turns and walks out the front door, not even bothering to shut it behind him. Jamie does, and I collapse further into Christian’s arms.
Through the corner of my eye, I see Jamie step up and take the knife from Ryan.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “Please don’t pay him- he’ll never stop- ”
“It’s okay,” Christian murmurs.
“No- it’s too much, it’s not worth it- he’ll just keep asking for more- ”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “It’s alright, Francesca.”
His hand moves in slow, steady circles against my back while the conversation shifts around me. They all start talking plans, numbers, logistics.
I barely track any of it until I hear Gram’s voice.
“I could switch medications,” she says gently. “They’re not quite as effective, but they’re cheaper.”
Something inside me snaps tight.
I pull back. “No. We aren’t doing that.”
“There’s no need for that, Gram,” Christian says.
“I can work more,” Jamie offers. “Pops has some… shipping opportunities that pay well.”
My stomach drops. “No,” I say again, louder this time, stepping out of Christian’s arms. “I don’t want you doing anything illegal.”
Jamie tilts his head, softening his voice like I’m a child. “Babe- ”
“I mean anything more illegal,” I cut in. “Not for me. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”
“Yes you are,” Ryan says immediately.
He steps in front of me, wipes my tears with his thumbs, cups my face, and smiles like the world isn’t collapsing around us.
“It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll get a job. I can handle school and baseball and work. We’ll make it work.”
“No need to go there. Not right now,” Christian says from behind me, his hands settling firmly on my shoulders. Steady. Unmovable. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be good, actually. We pay him and he’s gone.”
My chest tightens. “No- you can’t-”
“Honey,” Gram adds softly, her eyes shining. “It’s okay to accept help. We need their help.”
“I’ll get a job,” I say quickly. “I can work, I can help. Just please, I don’t want you all to-”
“Fucking stop.”
Jamie’s voice cracks like a whip, and I flinch. He’s breathing hard, eyes wild with something fierce and desperate and terrifying.
“Don’t you get it?” he snaps. “We are doing this. We are taking care of you. The money doesn’t matter- five hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, whatever it fucking takes. We will do anything to keep you safe.”
His voice breaks, raw and unguarded.
“We’ve just sat here,” he says, voice cracking again, “watching him hurt you. Over and over.”
He starts pacing.
“We just wait for the moments you come to us shaking or bleeding or trying to pretend you’re fine. We pick up the pieces. Clean you up. Hold you while you cry, but we can’t stop it.”
Tears well in my eyes, hating that this is how they see me. Something fragile. Something broken. The girl they have to protect.
“He’s right,” Ryan said. “If paying him means we don’t live waiting for the next ‘after,’ then it’s worth it.”
“It’s not,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Then Jamie roars. “It is! Don’t you get that?” He’s practically panting.
“You are worth it,” he says, voice rough. “You’re the only thing that matters- to any of us. So stop asking us not to take care of you. That’s like asking us not to love you. Which is like asking us not to breathe.”
Silence slams down over the room and something inside my chest starts to hurt. My heart- it’s my heart breaking.
It’s too much.
“I- ” My voice shakes. “I think I need to lie down. I just… I need to lay down.”
“Okay,” Ryan says immediately, reaching for my hand. “I’ll tuck you in.”
I pull away. My ears ring. My breaths come thin and sharp, like I’m trying to breathe through a straw.
“No,” I whisper. “Please. I just need a minute. I need-”
The words won’t come.
I look at Gram. At Christian. At Ryan. At Jamie.
At four people who love me so fiercely it feels unbearable.
Four people who would burn their lives to the ground if it meant keeping me safe.
My chest tightens, panic clawing its way up my throat.
Having me in their lives is ruining them.
I can already see it- Christian paying, Gram getting worse, Jamie getting pulled deeper into something dangerous, Ryan giving up pieces of his future…
All for me. All because of me.
My hands start to shake.
I can’t do this to them.
I can’t.
“I just need a minute,” I say again, my voice breaking.
It’s just so clear to me now. I know, even if they don’t, even if they won’t say it out loud…
I’m destroying them.