“Sabrina. Honestly. This is all a huge misunderstanding. Please let me explain. You see, that morning at Caleb’s, I wasn’t myself. I was drunk, or got some bad weed, or was sleepwalking, or something.”

“Really? And my telling you to get off me didn’t wake you up?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me to get off. You told me that you wanted me to take you to dinner—”

“How interesting,” I said, “that you were so drunk, and yet you remember that.”

He looked confused. “So you never wanted me to take you to dinner? Because I actually sort of thought that you and I always had a thing—”

“No, Kyle, we did not, and we do not. I only said that to get you away from me. Women will say a lot of things they don’t mean, it turns out, to get a huge slime bag like you off them. But here’s something I do mean: if I ever, ever hear about you touching any girl—or any person, of any sex—against their will, I will find you, wherever you are, and I will kill you. And I won’t get caught, because I happen to know how to dispose of bodies in places where no one will find them. And even if they did, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a jury in this country that would convict me, because you’re such a jerk, everyone would be glad that you’re dead anyway. Do you understand me, Kyle?”

He was nodding his head vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I do. But can I still just say that I’m really, really sorry? That morning, that wasn’t me . . . it was the drugs talking. And the booze. I really, really think you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Nothing actually happened—”

“Nothing?” I nearly shot him then and there. “Nothing? I think you mean to you. Nothing happened to you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of what happened that morning. I dropped out of law school because of it.” I stepped closer and closer to him, each time bringing the mouth of the pistol nearer his head. “I moved to an entirely different state because of it. I’ve fought with my mother for months because of it. You may not have hurt me physically, Kyle, but you and Cal and everybody else who kept saying nothing happened completely twisted me up inside, making me think I was the one who was wrong to be so upset over what you kept calling nothing. But you know what? I wasn’t wrong. Because it wasn’t nothing. And you know what the worst part of it all was? To get away from that nothing, I had to agree to go out with you, just so you would get your stupid, stinking, disgusting body off of me, when the truth is, you’re the last person in the world I would ever go anywhere with. And all this time, in your stupid pea brain, you actually thought I liked you? Are you insane?”

The mouth of the gun was directly parallel to his temple. Kyle knelt, frozen, too frightened to move a muscle.

“No,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I know now that you don’t like me, and that you and I are never going out. I’m sorry, Sabrina. I really am sorry.”

Because he finally sounded sincere, I turned the safety on the gun back on, then dropped it back into my bag.

“Good,” I said. “Never come near me again. Understood?”

He swallowed. It appeared that I had really gotten through to him. “Y-yes.”

“Great. Good-bye forever.”

I turned and left the house. Outside, Drew was leaning against one of the porch rails examining his cuticles while Caleb was sitting back in the porch chair, uneasily eyeing the pitties, who were panting heavily while sitting and staring at him.

Drew looked up as I came out. “Everything go okay?” he asked brightly.

I smiled at him. “I think we came to a pretty good understanding. Thanks for asking.”

Caleb nearly exploded from his seat—but kept a safe distance away from us, due to the pit bulls.

“What was that sound?” His eyes were nearly bulging from his head, and his face was shining with nervous sweat. “Was that a gunshot? Did you shoot him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scooped some of my hair from the back of my neck. It was terribly hot outside. “He’s fine. But I did explain to him that I don’t accept his apology, and that I don’t want to be friends with him anymore, or you, either, Caleb. I don’t like either of you, and I especially don’t like this sneaking around, lying thing the two of you did to get in touch with me. It was really dishonest, and it wasted our time”—I pointed at Drew and then at myself—“while we’re trying to get some really important rescue work done. So please don’t ever contact me again.” I looked at Drew. “Are you ready to go?”

He lifted his lanky frame from the porch railing with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Fine,” I said, and began untying the dogs. “Good-bye, Cal.”

“Wait.” Cal looked confused. “That’s it? You’re just . . . going?”

“Yes, we’re just going.” I had to hand the leashes over to Drew, because the dogs were too strong for me. Apparently, they were familiar with the word go, and upon hearing it, were ready to take off. They’d practically yanked my arm out of its socket rocketing down the porch steps. “I’ve moved on, Cal. I suggest you do the same.”

“But—”

I’d turned my back on him and started down the path through the home’s front yard toward the sidewalk. Along the way, Drew reached out and took my hand. I didn’t look back, even though Caleb kept calling, “Sabrina! Sabrina, I need to— Sabrina!”

“Keep walking,” Drew said, under his breath.

“I know,” I whispered back. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“There’s something wrong with that guy.”

“Duh.”

“Why did you ever go out with him?”

“Um, I could ask you the same thing about Ms. Pink Salt.”

“At least she didn’t wear Lacoste.”

“Shut up. That’s still a thing in some places.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sabrina!”

We made it to the corner where we’d parked the scooter without either Caleb or Kyle chasing after us. I was riding the scooter—slowly—while Drew walked the dogs so as not to traumatize them by making them run alongside the motorbike.

“So what happened in there?” Drew asked. “Did you shoot that guy, I hope?”

“No. I shot a bottle of tequila.”

He winced. “No! Good stuff?”

“Cuervo.”

He shook his head. “They’re probably going to tell the cops. Your ex seems like the type.”

“I don’t think so. And even if they do, don’t you think the sheriff has a little more to do right now than worry about a pink-haired waitress who shot a bottle of tequila in some snowbird’s house?”

He considered this. “You’re right. In about six months, he might get around to looking into it. But even then, what’s he going to do? Charge you for illegal discharge of a weapon? Hell, half the town shoots off their guns into the sky every New Year’s Eve.”

I thought about the bullet I’d lodged in the back of the waterfall, then decided that Caleb could pay for its removal, if his second cousin ever noticed it was there.