It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since Cody scurried out that window only to get caught on the way down. He hadn't been hanging around the neighborhood with his friends. He didn't show up at the diner while I was having breakfast. He certainly hadn't come here.

I expected to see nothing, but my eyes caught a sliver of green in the moonlight. He was there, crouched on the fire escape, peering in the window at me. His face was cast in shadows from the darkness, but I could make out bruising on his face, the marks moving down his jawline, toward a freshly busted lip that lined up almost perfectly with the scar that runs down his chin.

A scar his father caused the first time he hurt him, back when we were just little kids. 'He's going to be a man someday,' Cormac used to say. 'Might as well start treating him like one.' By treating, he'd meant beating. And by a man, he meant one of his guys that run the streets. Cody was never a son to him. Cody was just flesh and blood . . . the pieces that make up a person. Cormac never cared what else existed inside of the boy.

He never cared Cody wanted more than his neighborhood.

But looking at Cody at that moment, I knew the neighborhood had finally gotten its claws into him. There wouldn't be any secret smiles from him this time. No more whispered promises of 'soon'.

Standing up, I gave a look around the quiet apartment out of pure instinct before walking over to the window and shoving it open, not caring about the noise it made. There was nobody there with me. I pushed it open as far as it would go, a blast of cold air hitting me right away. Two weeks were all it took for the warmth to move out and the cold to seep in, like his absence made more than just me mourn. The temperature finally dipped below freezing, the air damp and sky covered in clouds. I can tell the metal railing is slick, the steps icy.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself right away. I was wearing his hoodie. He never came back for it. I started to climb out to join him but his hands grasped my arms, stopping me before I could come through the window.

"It's too cold," he said. "Don't come out here. You'll freeze."

"Do you . . . ?" I paused. "Do you want to come in?"

He didn't answer that question.

He didn't have to.

His ten second hesitation returned, turning to twenty . . . thirty . . . forty . . .

A minute later, after nothing from him, I knelt down on the floor, knowing he wasn't going to move. He stared at me like he was looking through me, studying me, looking for answers to an equation he was desperate to solve.

"I'm glad you're here," I told him.

"I shouldn't be," he said. "I was told to stay away from you."

"My father-"

"Not yours," he cut in before I could even get it out. "Your father didn't do it. He has no say over me."

"Yours," I whispered, reaching through the window for him. He didn't stop me as my hand covered the massive bruise on his face. "He did this to you."

Cody pulled his eyes away from me then, like I was just too painful to face. "Cormac figured since I wasn't listening, pounding it into me was the only way to get his point across."

"I just . . . I don't understand it," I said, fingertips trailing his jawline before tracing his lips, reaching the scar. "You're his family."

"Family doesn't mean shit to him," Cody said. "Family is just the people they go after when they want to send you a message. That's it. They're either a liability or an advantage, depending on which side of the game you're playing. And Cormac? He doesn't believe in hauling around dead weight. You know that."

There was no bitterness to his voice. He spoke matter-of-factly, like this was normal for families, like fathers were supposed to treat their children this way. But I didn't accept it and I never would. It wasn't our fault they did the things they did. We shouldn't have been the ones who faced punishment. "It's not right."

"But it's life," he said. "It's my life."

"You don't want it to be."

"But it is," he said quietly. "It is."

I wasn't sure what to say.

I knew there was no room for argument, knew that any pleading or pestering from my lips would fall on deaf ears. We had been around in circles, back and forth, flipped upside down, and we ultimately ended up here after everything.

"It is what it is," he continued, realizing I was conceding, that I wasn't going to try to argue with him. I could almost see the relief on his face, but in his eyes there was something else . . . something I had never seen from him before: surrender. His eyes had always been full of spark, but there was nothing there now. There was no more fight left for his own life. "And like I said, I shouldn't be here, but I really needed to give you your present."

I frowned. "My birthday isn't until tomorrow."

Seventeen.

No longer sixteen, but it still wasn't eighteen.

Not yet.

"Close enough," he said, reaching into his pants pocket and grabbing something, pulling it out and concealing it in his fist. "I didn't have a chance to wrap it, and well . . . fuck it. I've never been good at that shit."

He held his hand out toward me as he opened it. There, in his palm, lay a silver necklace. A smile crept up on my lips when I reached for it, taking it from him. A locket. Perfectly round, a tad bigger than a quarter. On the front was a snowflake, the edges of it framed in diamonds. I would've asked if they were real, but I knew Cody. He'd never buy me something fake. Flipping it over, I ran my thumb over the back, feeling the grooves from the words engraved in it.

Gracie- Soon.

-C "It's beautiful," I whispered.

He nudged my hand. "Open it."

I flicked the locket open, my eyes meeting an old picture. It was Cody and I, back when we were just little kids, before we ever fell in love and realized what a harsh world we lived in. I was grinning at the camera, happy as could be, while Cody just stared at me.

"Couldn't keep my eyes off you back then," he said. "Guess I loved you even when I was ten."

I traced the outline of our young faces before closing the locket again, clutching it tightly in my palm. Emotions swirled through me, heavy and tumultuous, like a brewing storm. I felt the tears building in my eyes, felt the lump in my throat. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given me before.

I met his eyes, smiling. "Thank you."

He nodded as if to say 'you're welcome', but he didn't say the words. Instead, he looked away from me, tilting his head up toward the sky. It was drizzling a bit, had been all day, the light rain hitting his long lashes. He blinked it away as he lowered his head again, once more meeting my gaze.

His expression of relief faded away. Reaching through the window, he cupped my chin with his cold hand, tilting my face toward him. Carefully, he leaned forward, kissing my mouth. It was barely a peck, but I was shaking, shivering, breathing in his warmth when he whispered against my lips, "I won't see you for a while after this, Gracie."

The coldness from his hand, the chilling tone of is voice, seeped through my skin, freezing my insides when I absorbed those words. I opened my eyes. "What?"

"It's for the best," he said, "that we don't see each other for a while."

He pulled back, dropping his hand. I gaped at him, my mind trying to process those words, but my heart beat too loudly for it to understand.

"For the best?" I asked. "I don't understand. How can it be for the best that we don't see each other?"

"Because it is," he said, as if those words made any sense, as if they offered anything in the way of an explanation of how he could actually think him being absent from my world made anything better. He was my pulse. He was the air I breathed. He was the sun that shined on this shit show of a life I'd been given.

"That's stupid. That's just . . . that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Because it is? Because it is? There's nothing for the best about this, Cody. I don't want to be without you. I love you."

"I know."

"You know? So why? Why would you say it's for the best?"

"Because it is," he said again, running his hands through his damp hair, making the locks stick straight up. He eyed me, his expression earnest, as if he was trying to get me to understand something with just a look.

But I couldn't.

I didn't understand.

He let out a deep sigh of exasperation that broke something inside of me, thawing the ice that gripped me so I could no longer stop the flood. Tears broke free from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks, as my breath caught in my throat.

This couldn't be happening.

"You're leaving me," I gasped, trying to make my voice sound calm like his is, but my panic was too much. "On my birthday?"

"Tomorrow's your birthday," he whispered.

His response hit me like a ton of bricks, snapping something. I didn't think. I reacted. My chest was heavy and my heart hurt, the pain seizing my muscles and controlling them. My hands thrust out, and I shoved him, hard, knocking him backward on the fire escape. He slips on the slick metal, dropping right on his ass, the fire escape rattling loudly.

He got traction again and climbed to his feet. Part of me wished this were just some sick, sick prank, the worst joke ever told. I wanted him to climb through the window and pull me into his arms and tell me he wouldn't dream of ever leaving me alone. But ten seconds passed . . . I counted them in my head . . . and he didn't make a move.

He didn't say anything.

My shoulders slumped. My heart was broken and he just stood there, so whole, his hands slipping into his pocket like he was waiting for something.

If he were waiting for me to tell him this was okay, it wasn't going to happen.

Because it wasn't okay.

It wasn't.

"I love you, Gracie," he said quietly. "I love you with everything in me. I always will, you know."

I closed my eyes. "Yet you're walking away. You're leaving me. You're just going to go down that fire escape and what . . . disappear from my life?"

"Impossible," he said. "Just because you won't see me doesn't mean I'm gone."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Yeah, it is. It's easy to say, because it's true. You can break people apart, but you can't rob them of what's them. You'll never be without me, because I'll always be part of you, just like you're in me, Gracie. You're my soul, love."

My tears started falling harder.

He gave it ten seconds then.

Ten seconds before he turned around and walked away.

I collapsed as it all purged from me, my body viciously shaking as every part of me hurt. The cold filtered into the apartment from the open window, the heater no match for the icy air. It infused into everything around me, freezing my world as I fell to pieces on the floor.

"Gracie!"

Cody's voice held a hint of emotion as he shouted my name from the street somewhere. I forced myself to my feet, my vision blurred from my tears, and climbed out onto the icy fire escape. The moment I stepped out, I felt the coldness hit my face, wetness that had nothing to do with crying.

My first thought was maybe he changed his mind, maybe he saw how wrong this was, but no . . . I knew that couldn't be so. He wouldn't have done this, wouldn't have said those words, if he weren't sure. I blinked away more tears as I glanced down, seeing Cody standing along the curb staring up at me. White specks fell down around him from the sky, sporadic snowflakes, just enough to make out in the darkness.

"Look, Gracie," he called out. "Your wish came true."

No, I thought, as he walked away.

It hadn't come true at all.

Hours pass after Holden leaves.

Hours that mean nothing.

Hours that don't matter to me.

Because eighteen looks exactly like seventeen, and it certainly doesn't feel any different. I don't feel older or wiser or any more mature. It's not magic, like Cinderella's carriage transforming at midnight because of some spell.

The only difference is I'm not a minor anymore.

My decisions are my own now. Nobody can stop me from making my own choices. They don't have to like them, but I'm the one who had to live with whatever happens.

Me, not them.

So I give myself those hours.

Before I find myself walking out the front door.

I'm not sure what possesses me to do it, what lights the fire under my ass that makes me put on real clothes and actually fix my hair. I don't know what possesses me to leave the house, to get in that piece of shit car and start to drive. I don't know what possesses me to speed right by that Snowflake city limit sign again.

I don't know, but I do it.

And this time, I keep going.

I packed one bag before I left the house.

Just one.

That's it.

It's easy to condense this life into one bag, because there hasn't really been much to it.

I drive to Phoenix.

It's a three-hour trip. It's dark, and the Chevy is spewing smoke again by the time I get there, the repairs just a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. It barely holds on until I reach my destination.