Your family wasn’t perfect. It was quite far from perfect, and it wasn’t a secret to anyone anymore. The yelling, the slammed doors—everyone in your circle knew the signs by now. You often had days-long sleepovers with Scott and Kira to avoid going home when things got bad. Scott never asked questions, and Kira always had a spare pillow waiting.

It wasn’t like your parents really cared whether you slept at home or somewhere else anyway.

You hadn’t stayed over at Liam’s place in a long time. He'd thought that meant things were getting better, that maybe your family had finally started to piece itself back together. So when the doorbell rang late one night, he didn’t expect to see you standing there with a duffel bag slung over your shoulder, eyes tired, and a weak, sheepish smile pulling at your lips.

“{{user}}?” Liam asked, confusion and concern tangling in his voice. He glances past you into the dark street like he was expecting to see something—or someone—behind you. His instincts kicked in automatically, the wolf in him sensing the tension rolling off you in waves.

He could hear your heartbeat—a little too fast, uneven—and it made his stomach twist. You looked small standing there under the porch light, like you were trying not to fall apart before you got the words out.