"Why'd you run off like that?" Brian asked, his eyes fixed entirely on Scarlett. They had nearly finished the two-liter bottle of wine they'd been drinking, both of them already drunk. The fact that it was late at night and Love was asleep gave Brian a sense of ease. Scarlett took a cigarette out of her bag and handed it to Brian.
"Let's smoke this, then I'll tell you," Scarlett said. Brian eyed the cigarette with concern. It had been a long time since he last smoked weed. He wasn't sure if he should.
"I'm not sure… my daughter's asleep in the next room. I don't think we should."
"It's not like you're gonna lose control. Nothing's gonna happen," Scarlett said and lit the joint. The more they smoked, the more sluggish they became, dark circles forming under their eyes. They leaned back on the couch, sitting side by side. Scarlett had her foot stretched out on the coffee table, just staring around the room. Brian looked like he didn't even know what he was feeling. His head was spinning badly.
"I ran because…" Scarlett began. Brian, with whatever focus he still had left, locked his attention on her.
"You excited me. I haven't felt something stir inside me in a long time," Scarlett said, looking into Brian's eyes with her green ones. Brian, however, found himself lost in her fiery red hair. He reached out and took Scarlett's hand. "I was excited too. I think it was the kind of excitement I'd told myself I wouldn't feel for a long time." Scarlett didn't quite understand what he meant and asked him to clarify.
"I just got divorced two days ago. Been through some heavy shit. At the point where I was thinking about suicide, I told myself: 'Someone will cross my path one day. Maybe in two years, maybe in twenty.' But I never thought I'd meet you just two days later."
"Wait, so when you met me… you were married?" Scarlett asked, pulling her hand out of Brian's. She looked both angry and hurt.
"Yeah, I was married, but my wife was living with her ex. Well… her new boyfriend now. I came here to finalize the divorce, and that's when I met you. Normally I live in Los Angeles," Brian said. Thoughts spun around in his head; he didn't want to say anything wrong to her in his drunken state.
For a while, Scarlett and Brian just stared at each other. They looked deeply into one another's eyes, their heads resting against the couch—one turned to the left, the other to the right—just staring. Brian tried to work up the courage. "Should I kiss her? Should I? Fuck, what am I gonna do now? Fuck it, Brian, just kiss her." He slowly leaned toward Scarlett, keeping eye contact. The closer he got, the more the tension grew. Scarlett didn't pull away; she leaned in too. Their foreheads nearly met, eyes locked, and then they began kissing passionately. Brian's right hand cupped Scarlett's cheek. Scarlett's left hand slid from Brian's chest downward. When her hand slipped inside his pants, she broke the kiss and started giving him head. Brian leaned his head back and just let himself enjoy the moment.
Brian woke up early. When he opened his eyes, Scarlett was lying next to him, completely naked, still sleeping off the exhaustion of their wild night.
Brian quietly got out of bed and went downstairs to have a smoke. He lit his cigarette and began replaying the night in his mind. Even though it had felt amazing in the moment, now he felt a strange knot in his stomach—an involuntary unease. Thinking of Scarlett made him feel good, but he didn't want anything more. It had been exactly what he wanted: a one-night stand. But did Scarlett see it the same way? From what she'd said last night, it seemed like she had feelings for him.
When he went back inside, Scarlett was awake. She was wearing only underwear and white socks, with his t-shirt over them.
"Gooood morning," she said, planting a kiss on Brian. She drank a glass of water, then walked over to Brian, who was washing dishes, and hugged him from behind, whispering in his ear: "Last night was amazing, baby."
Brian turned and smiled, but inside he was thinking, "Baby? Baby? Don't overdo it, for fuck's sake."
"Why don't you go take a shower, I'll make breakfast," he said. Scarlett agreed, and right there next to him, she took off her shirt, winked, and said: "If you feel like joining, the door's open."
Instead of joining her, Brian's eyes were drawn to an old, long, stitched-up scar on her stomach. He put the dishes down, dried his hands with a towel, and walked toward her without breaking eye contact.
Placing his hands on her waist, he let his left thumb trace the scar. "What happened here?" he asked.
"I'm going to shower," Scarlett replied, backing toward the bathroom without breaking eye contact. She turned around, stepped inside, then opened the door again, leaning on the frame: "Damaged ones always find damaged ones." She disappeared into the bathroom again.
"Damaged ones always find damaged ones, huh?" Brian thought to himself. Her words stuck with him. She wasn't wrong—his own romantic history was a mess. And clearly Scarlett's wasn't clean either. "That's why they call her Scar," Brian thought, smoking his cigarette while watching the sun rise.
Tighten those ties! Tighter! Come on, boys, LET'S GO!" the foreman shouted.
It was Brian's first day on the job, and he hadn't exactly made a great impression. He was rusty after not working for a while. Even though he knew the job, his old speed was gone.
"We've got a lot to work on with you, kid. You need to learn the ropes," the foreman said.
Brian shot back, "Man, if you want, check my résumé. I'm already a foreman."
The foreman burst out laughing. "HAHAHAHA! You? A foreman? Don't make me laugh, man. Stop joking around and focus on your work." He turned to walk away, but Brian crouched down where he was, glaring at him with pure rage. He was squeezing the pliers in his hands so hard his knuckles whitened.
"Don't let it get to you, brother. He's always like that," one of the other workers said. His accent sounded Spanish.
Brian turned to him and said, "If he talks to me like that again, I'll shove these pliers up his ass. You can tell him I said that."
He was boiling with anger. He left the work site and, just to be petty, rolled himself a cigarette and sat in the shade under a tree.
The foreman was in the office hut, but when he saw Brian, he came outside. The other workers followed too, expecting a fight and ready to break it up if needed.
"What's your problem!" the foreman barked. "Didn't I just warn you?"
"First, you better learn some respect," Brian snapped. "I'm 22 years old, and I've been doing this job since I was 15. I am a foreman, and you will respect that. Otherwise, I'll break every bone in your body."
With the bruises still covering his face from a recent fight, Brian looked dangerous. The foreman wanted to say something but it was obvious he didn't have the guts. No one else stepped in either. Someone was just about to speak when Brian cut in again.
"My name is Brian Easton. Get it through your head and don't ever talk to me like that again."
He put his cigarette in his mouth and headed back down to the foundation pit to keep working.
By late afternoon, the workday ended and everyone went home.
When Brian got home that evening, the babysitter was still there.
"Hey, Virginia," he greeted her. "Could you stay until I take a shower, please?"
"Of course, honey, go ahead," she replied.
Brian went to shower. Thinking back on today's incident gave him a sense of satisfaction. "Damn, I've gotten better at this," he thought. And he really had—before, if someone said something to him, he would stay quiet. But now, he never kept his mouth shut. He said whatever came to mind, and the way people seemed wary of him… it was satisfying.
When he got out of the shower and was about to send Virginia home, she asked, "Hey, can I ask you something? If you don't mind?"
"Sure," Brian said, Virginia sat down on the couch.
"What happened to your face?" she asked, still holding her bag and sitting on the edge of the couch, not leaning back since she was about to leave.
"Got into a fight recently. They beat me up pretty good," Brian answered, then smiled.
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
"Why would I? What would happen if I did? It was just a bar fight."
"I see… I know my employers' personal lives are none of my business, but I just wanted to be sure Love is in safe hands."
"Trust me—my daughter is safest when she's with me," Brian replied.
After Virginia left, Brian sat watching TV while Love stared at the screen, absentmindedly waving her toys. She was practically hypnotized by the television. Brian's body was facing the TV, but his mind was elsewhere—on Theo.
He kept thinking about how he could get revenge without getting caught. Because if he attacked Theo, he'd lose custody of Love. And he knew Theo and Michelle would deliberately use that against him.
"Wow," he muttered to himself. Hearing her father's voice, Love glanced over at him but quickly turned her attention back to the TV.
"Look at her… the woman I loved. The woman I once called my best friend. The woman I married," Brian said out loud to himself.
He got up, went to the kitchen, and opened the fridge to get some water. He drank it straight from the bottle, then slammed the fridge door so hard it nearly came off its hinges. Suddenly, his anger exploded.
"Bastards! SCUM! MOTHERFUCKERS!" he shouted. Love flinched at his yelling, staring at her father in fear.
"YOU SONS OF BITCHES! I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERYTHING! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" He grabbed a kitchen chair and smashed it against the wall, breaking it apart.
Brian didn't even realize how furious he was until Love started crying—screaming, really. He immediately picked her up, apologizing over and over as he rocked her in his arms. But no matter how long he tried—swaying her left and right—she wouldn't stop crying.
At that moment, Scarlett came in. She dropped her bag the second she saw Brian and Love, and rushed over to take the baby. At first, Brian pulled Love back protectively, but after locking eyes with Scarlett, he handed her over.
Scarlett cradled Love, humming a song as she swayed her gently. Slowly, the crying subsided. Love rested her head on Scarlett's shoulder, listening to her song.
"Thank you," Brian said, slumping down on the couch, completely drained. Scarlett winked at him as if to say "Don't mention it" and kept rocking Love.
That's when she noticed the broken chair. She looked at Brian, then set Love down on the floor with her toys. Brian put on Love's favorite song on the TV, and just like that, it was as if nothing had happened—she was glued to the screen again.
The two of them sat outside on the chairs by the front door, smoking. Every now and then, Brian glanced through the window to check on Love.
"What just happened in there?" Scarlett asked.
"Nothing. The chair broke by accident," Brian tried to brush it off.
"Accident my ass," Scarlett replied.
"What made you so angry?"
"Look, I really appreciate your help, but believe me, I don't want to talk about it right now," Brian snapped, his eyes locking on hers with an edge.
"Alright… forget I asked," Scarlett said. They sat in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I've just been on edge lately. My bad."
"I get that. But do you think shutting me down will make your anger go away?"
"I just didn't want to dwell on it, that's all."
"Brian, you don't have to face everything in your life alone. Sometimes you need help, and that's normal. Asking for help isn't weakness—it's reality."
"Reality?" Brian turned fully toward her.
"Seeing life for what it is. We're all human, not Superman. That's why looking down on people, or letting them look down on you, isn't right either."
"What does that have to do with me?" Brian asked, taking a deep breath and crossing his legs as he looked away.
"What I mean, you idiot, is that avoiding asking for help—thinking you're fine on your own—is in a way looking down on others. I'm not saying you do that, but—"
"Oh, fuck off, what's that got to do with anything?"
"Let me finish. I'm saying don't be afraid to ask for help when it's needed. Knowing yourself means knowing when to reach out," Scarlett said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Don't push people away. I'm not saying this so you'll get closer to me. I used to do the same thing, and it led me to the brink of suicide. Just because one person wronged you doesn't mean everyone will."
She handed him the cigarette she was smoking and lit a new one for herself, turning her whole body toward him. She tucked her right leg under her left and watched him intently.
Brian turned his head toward her and studied her gaze—it was almost like she enjoyed looking at him.
"How do you know someone wronged me?"
"I don't. I'm guessing. You said you divorced two days ago, and you've got custody of your kid. That usually means your wife did something bad, because otherwise they rarely give custody to the father."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she added.
Brian lowered his head, rubbing his face with his right hand. "I don't know if I should."
"It's fine. We just met. You don't have to tell me," Scarlett said, still staring at him. Her gaze was starting to get under his skin; when someone stares too long, it creates an involuntary urge to look good, and after a while, you lose control of your expressions.
Brian looked back at her. "It's not that we just met," he said.
"I trust you," he added.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I just don't want to talk about it."
"Alright, then let's order something to eat," Scarlett said, getting up to head inside.
But Brian grabbed her arms, pulled her toward him, and started kissing her. They were making out on the front step when a car pulled up in front of the house. They stopped and looked over. Scarlett gave Brian a questioning look, silently asking who it was.
Brian's expression darkened immediately. "Good evening," Michelle said.
The visitors were Michelle and Theo.
Brian let go of Scarlett and stormed down the steps toward them. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Relax, man. Her mom came to see her daughter," Theo said.
"If you don't want something bad to happen to either of you, get the hell out of here!" Brian snapped.
Scarlett came down the steps after him. "Calm down, baby. Let them see her," she said, taking Brian's hand.
As much as he didn't want to move, Michelle had the right to see her daughter twice a week.
Inside, Brian leaned against the kitchen counter with Scarlett while Michelle hugged Love. Michelle sat on the couch with Love on her lap, Theo beside her, both of them doting on the child.
"She's grown so much," Michelle said.
Hearing that made Brian want to smash the morning's broken chair over her head, but he kept his cool. "Yeah, she's grown a lot," he replied calmly.
"And you are?" Theo asked, looking at Scarlett.
Scarlett was about to answer, but Brian cut in: "My girlfriend. We met recently." He kissed Scarlett's hand.
Scarlett shot him a surprised look, forcing a fake smile.
"You two look great together," Michelle said, then turned to Scarlett. "Brian's a good man. You're lucky to have him."
Brian lowered his head, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, thinking, "You should be grateful I didn't kill you." Her words made his blood boil; it took everything in him not to explode.
"He's got a bit of a temper, but hey, nobody's perfect, right?" Theo added with a smirk.
Brian shot him a piercing glare. Theo just smiled back.
Seeing that Theo was no longer afraid of him—just days after being too scared to even look him in the eye at court—infuriated Brian even more.
Scarlett gave a fake laugh. "Hahaha." Then she slipped her hand to Brian's crotch, squeezing him and biting her lip while staring at him.
Brian knew exactly what she was doing—she'd noticed his anger and was trying to tease him, maybe even make Michelle jealous.
Michelle's eyes were fixed on Scarlett, her fake smile barely hiding her irritation.
After they played with Love for a while, Brian stepped in. "That's enough. It's her bedtime."
"She doesn't usually go to bed this early," Michelle said.
"What would you know, Michelle? Don't make me open my mouth. Good night—both of you, out."
As they headed for the door, Scarlett went ahead to see them out, chatting with Michelle. Theo lagged behind.
Brian reached out, grabbed Theo's hand, and leaned close to his ear. "I'm going to ruin your life. Don't sleep easy—always think about me. Always think about Brian Easton."
When Theo turned his head, Brian smiled and said, "Good night, buddy," giving him one last cold glare.
Theo got into the driver's seat while Michelle said goodbye to Love, who was in Brian's arms. Scarlett stood beside Brian, waiting for them to leave.
"Scarlett, nice to meet you. But would you mind if I spoke to Brian alone for a second?" Michelle asked.
"Of course," Scarlett said, stepping back up the three porch steps toward the door.
Michelle turned to Brian. "Look, I know things didn't end well between us, but when I come to see my daughter, I don't want to feel afraid. And I don't want to feel ashamed when I look at you. Please… let's break the ice between us."
Brian smiled. "I understand. You can see her twice a week. I won't hurt you, don't worry. BUT… there ain't no such thing as breaking the ice, Michelle. As long as I'm alive, I'll always hate you."
Michelle said nothing, got into the car, and left with Theo.
When Brian went back inside, he grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Scarlett. Love was on the floor again, playing with her toys while the two of them sat on the couch.
"Girlfriend, huh?" Scarlett said.
"Sorry… I just wanted to piss them off. Trust me, the last thing they want is to see me happy," Brian replied.
Scarlett shifted her body fully toward him. "So you only said it to make them jealous?"
Brian took a deep breath. "Look, we just met. Things are going well between us, and I really enjoy talking to you. That's why I think we should just let things flow naturally."
Scarlett's disappointment was obvious, but she stayed quiet and watched TV with him.
The next morning, Brian woke up feeling like crap. He'd stayed up half the night overthinking and barely slept. Now he had to go to work and spend eight hours around that guy without starting a fight.
"Fuck it… no choice," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed and heading for the shower. Even there, his mind was stuck on last night. Scarlett had left not long after watching some TV, but Michelle and Theo's presence still lingered in his head like a splinter.
"Those shameless motherfuckers," he thought, punching the wall. His hand hurt, but nothing was broken.
At work, his mood was visibly bad. People kept their distance—everyone except the Spanish guy, who sometimes bummed smokes from Brian or gave him one in return. While they were tying rebar side by side, Miguel spoke up.
"I think you were right yesterday, man," Miguel said.
Brian looked up from the column and gave him a questioning glance. "I lost my temper. What else was I supposed to do?"
"I get it, man. You used to be a foreman, and now you're just a worker here—it's gotta sting."
"It's not about being a worker, Miguel. It's about respect. He should thank God I didn't rip his teeth out with those pliers."
"So why'd you leave your old job?"
"I took a two-day vacation, and when I came back, they'd replaced me. I'd been a foreman there for two years, man. You do the math."
"How much were you making?" Miguel asked.
"I was getting 6,500. I don't know how much this asshole's making."
"6,500? Damn… that's good money," Miguel said, going back to work.
When the day ended, Brian went home, showered, and sent Virginia home. He spent a little time with Love, then put on the TV. After a while, he wondered why Scarlett hadn't called all day. Maybe she'd show up later. But she didn't.
Brian remembered she'd started working at the bar where they'd met, so he decided to go there. But what about Love?
"I'll just take her with me," he thought, grabbing the baby carrier.
He walked into the bar with Love strapped to his chest, drawing stares from everyone inside. Ignoring them, he scanned the room for Scarlett.
"Hey man, where's Scar?" he asked the bartender.
The bartender gave him a look. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring a baby into places like this?"
Brian felt the anger rising but bit his tongue. "Where is she, man?"
"She's probably at home—she's off tonight," the bartender said, drying a glass.
Brian headed straight to her apartment building, took the elevator to the 12th floor, and knocked on her door.
"Who is it?" came her voice from inside.
"It's me. Brian."
When she opened the door, Brian immediately noticed her wide, glassy eyes. She was clearly on something.
"Come in, what are you waiting for?" she said.
Once inside, Brian saw the table and froze.
"You weren't planning on telling me you use, huh?" he said.
"I don't know what you mean," Scarlett replied.
"You don't think I have the right to know what the woman I've been seeing is doing?"
"Alright, fine. I use on my days off. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal? You're using drugs, for fuck's sake," Brian's voice rose.
"Why are you yelling? You think I'm not aware of it?" Scarlett shot back.
"Forget it. We'll talk later," Brian said, heading for the door.
Before he could leave, Scarlett shouted, "Go on then! Leave! Just like everyone else—FUCKING LEAVE!" She was crying now.
Brian turned back. "I have a daughter, Scarlett. I can't be with someone who uses."
"I… I was gonna have a daughter too. I was," Scarlett sobbed, collapsing onto the couch
"What's that supposed to mean?" Brian asked.
Scarlett took off her shirt, now completely topless—no bra—and pointed to the long, stitched scar across her stomach.
"I… I was pregnant," she said.
Brian froze, his mind going blank except for a single thought: Shit.
Scarlett lit a cigarette before continuing.
"I was nineteen. Living with my boyfriend. We were selling drugs to get by. My family begged me to leave him, but I didn't listen. At eighteen, I moved in with him. Every night, I'd lie awake in fear… but I loved him. I was so fucking in love."
She took another drag, her voice trembling.
"Love's expectations will kill you. I told him we should stop selling, that I was pregnant now, that we should get real jobs and get married. He wouldn't listen. I thought about going back to my family so many times. People were always coming over—some would threaten us with guns, some would beat him up right there in front of me."
She exhaled a stream of smoke and offered Brian a cigarette. He declined, motioning to the sleeping Love in the carrier on his chest.
"One day, we were bagging up product. He was high as hell—shaking, paranoid. I told him, 'Baby, go lie down. I'll finish this.' But he didn't listen. He went into the kitchen. Our place was tiny—just a living room and a kitchen. Then he came out holding a knife, walking straight toward me. His eyes were huge… and he kept licking his lips."
Brian listened in silence, his pulse quickening.
"I thought, 'He'd never hurt me,' but I still flinched and stood up to defend myself. That's when he stabbed me in the stomach. 'This baby is dead weight. I'm saving us both,' he screamed… and I collapsed right there on the floor. He didn't even help—just sat back down like nothing happened. Some guys came over to collect money, saw me lying there in blood, and called the cops and an ambulance."
Brian's blood ran cold. "What happened to him?" he asked.
"He's still in prison. Got life without parole," Scarlett said, tears still streaming.
Brian started to speak—"I'm so sorry for your lo—"—but she cut him off.
"Then you came along. Told me I was the kind of person you'd marry. After ten years, hearing that from someone… it woke something up in me. Then I saw you again, we talked, I met your daughter… and I knew, Brian. I knew."
Brian frowned. "Knew what?"
Scarlett stubbed out her cigarette, her head bowed, her messy, fiery hair falling forward.
"That the part of me I lost ten years ago… was you. It was you."