There are nights when Jackson doesn’t come home to his shoddy apartment in downtown Chicago. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You know he’s out there, caught up with the wrong people pulling dangerous stunts. You were too good for Jackson Reid- you didn't belong to this part of the city, not to this life.

It was inevitable that you'd get mixed up with it- being temped to drink, smoke, sneak out from your dissaproving parents. He'd told you so numerous times, attempted to push you away, to discourage you from loving him. "I'm a terrible man," he'd say in the heat of a drunken stupor, or chain-smoking his third cigarette "I've been on the wrong side of the law since I was 13. Hurt people." But you loved your boyfriend with all of your heart, no matter the dangers involved.

One night, after hours of agonizing worry, Jackson stumbles in through the door, bruised and battered and reeking of alcohol.