Poppy, Violet, Sunny, and Lily all converge on Charlene as she stumbles back. She trips on an uneven stone and lands on her butt. The ping of something hitting the interlocking stone and rolling across the driveway barely registers.

“Poppy! Get away from that guy!” Lance yells.

It’s followed by shouts from Randy, Alex, and Miller, but the only thing that resonates is Charlene’s desperate shriek.

I stop thinking. Instead I react, launching myself at him. I take him to the ground before he can put his hands on anyone else. He’s soft and doughy, and clearly not built for a fight. He lands on the ground with a loud oomph.

“Run, beige ladies! You’re free! Run while you can!” Miller yells.

The first punch hits Khaki Man’s soft middle, and he groans and tries to curl into a ball.

“She’s not yours to touch—not fucking ever. Do you understand me?” I yell in his pale, now somewhat greenish face.

“She belongs with me! She belongs with the co-op!” He tries to shove me off. “We need you back to make us whole again, Char-char!”

“She’s mine, motherfucker. You can’t have her.” This time I punch him in the mouth to shut him the hell up.

Before I can give him a black eye, several sets of hands latch onto me, pulling me up. I fight against the restraints, because all I want to do is destroy this fucking lunatic who’s a threat to my girlfriend.

Alex’s voice is in my ear. “You gotta calm down, Darren. You’re scaring the shit out of Charlene, and everyone.”

I glance at the terrified faces of the beige-clad women and then at the cluster of women huddled protectively around Charlene. Behind them is a semi-circle comprised of Alex and Violet’s parents, while my teammates act as a barrier between me and them. I note the nervous, unsettled expressions that color every single one of their faces.

I look back at Frank the fucker whose nose is bleeding. He struggles to sit up while holding his hand to his mouth. Blood streams down his chin and drips onto his pristine white shirt.

A few of the beige women gather around him and help him to his feet. They throw dirty looks over their shoulders at me as they usher him back in the RV. He starts it up and rolls down the window as he throws it into gear. “I’ll be back for you, Char-char! I’ll save you yet!”

“Come back and I’ll run you over with your own goddamn RV!” I yell and try to rush the vehicle, but Lance and Randy grab me.

“I don’t think you’re helping the situation.” Randy inclines his head to where Charlene sits on the driveway, trembling violently. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, clenched fists pressed to her lips. Violet wraps a towel around her, and Lily brushes her hair away from her face while Sunny tries to pry her hands from her mouth. Poppy picks something up off the ground. Multiple somethings.

I turn to Charlene’s mom. “Can you tell me what just happened? Was that Charlene’s father?”

“I suppose he functioned as one during her childhood, but no. That’s my . . . ex for lack of better terminology, but it’s a long story.” She glances around and wrings her hands nervously. “One I’m assuming Charlene hasn’t shared with any of you.”

I shake my head, and there’s a murmur of agreement from everyone else. I look to Violet, almost relieved that she seems to be similarly shocked, and swallow down the huge lump in my throat as I try to process what happened. I need to understand a lot of things right now, starting with what Charlene’s childhood actually looked like, because the picture she painted for me wasn’t this.

I make a move toward her, wanting to . . . I don’t know, understand? Comfort her? I need something, anything to replace the strange state of disbelief I’m currently suspended in.

Alex puts a palm on my chest. “Look at your hands.”

I cringe at the blood coating my knuckles. “Fuck.”

“We’ll get her inside and keep her safe until you’ve cleaned up and calmed down,” Alex says.

Charlene’s mom helps her up and wraps a protective arm around her, and all I can do is watch as the woman I’m in love with, but don’t even know, walks away without looking back.DARREN

Lance looks at me, lips pressed into a thin line. He puts a hand on my shoulder, his expression almost piteous. “This makes our parents look like they should be up for family of the year award, aye?”

I don’t know much about Lance’s family situation, other than the fact that he doesn’t have a relationship with his mother and he only sees his father once a year at most. But based on his history with women, I can certainly make an experienced guess. Porn star parents and being raised by grandparents who were determined to eradicate the inherited perversion out of me seems pretty decent in comparison to what I now suspect Charlene went through.