Questions

Kian

I didn't even remember walking to school. One minute, I was slipping out the front door before Mam could see me, and the next, I was pushing my way through the gates of BCS, my hood pulled up to hide my face. My whole body ached with every step, but I kept my head down, ignoring the curious stares from the few students lingering outside before first bell.

I could still hear Dad's voice in my head from the night before—slurred, angry, filled with that familiar venom he always spat when he was too far gone. His hands had done most of the talking, though. My ribs throbbed, my jaw was tight, and I was pretty sure there was dried blood in my hair.

It wasn't the worst beating I'd ever had. But it was bad enough.

I pulled open the doors and stepped inside, blinking at the brightness of the hallway lights. My legs felt heavy as I made my way toward my locker. I wasn't even sure why I bothered showing up. Maybe because I knew if I stayed home, Dad would have found another excuse to get at me. At least here, he couldn't touch me.

I kept my back to the hallway as I spun the lock, twisting in my combination with fingers that still shook slightly. I could feel eyes on me, whispers creeping down the hall like static, but I didn't turn around.

Then, I heard the one voice I really didn't want to deal with.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Mallory.

Of course, it had to be her.

I clenched my jaw, forcing a smirk as I turned to face her. Her usual sharp expression faltered the second she got a good look at me. I must have looked worse than I thought.

"Nothing," I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets.

She frowned, stepping closer. "Bullshit."

I tilted my head, giving her my best cocky grin, even though my split lip protested the movement. "What, worried about me now, princess?"

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the flicker of concern behind them. "Seriously, Kian, what happened?"

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head. "Just a misunderstanding. You should see the other guy."

She didn't look convinced. In fact, she looked pissed. "Who?"

I laughed, but it came out more like a wince. "Let it go, Lynch."

Her jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought she was going to push it. But then the warning bell rang, breaking whatever moment we were having.

She sighed, backing up. "Fine. Be a stubborn prick."

"Always am."

She turned on her heel and stalked off toward her class, but I knew this wasn't the end of it. She'd seen too much.

And something told me Mallory Lynch wasn't the type to just let things go.

I barely made it through my morning classes. Every time I shifted in my seat, a fresh wave of pain rolled through my ribs. My knuckles were still raw, stinging every time I moved my fingers, and the dull throbbing behind my eye told me the bruise was already darkening.

I wasn't an idiot—I knew people were staring. The whispers followed me through the halls, but I ignored them, keeping my head down and my hood up. The only person who actually said anything was Mallory, and even though I'd brushed her off, I knew she wasn't done with me.

And I was right.

By lunch, she was waiting for me outside the cafeteria, arms crossed, her usual unimpressed expression locked in place.

I sighed. "Stalking me now, princess?"

She didn't take the bait. "You didn't answer my question earlier."

"And I'm not going to." I moved past her, but she stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

"Who did this to you?"

I smirked, but it felt hollow. "You volunteering to kiss it better?"

Her expression didn't change. "Kian."

I felt my patience slipping. "Drop it, Lynch. It's none of your business."

Her eyes searched mine, and I hated how much I wanted to look away. She was too sharp, too perceptive. She had no business giving a shit about me, but for some reason, she did.

And that? That was dangerous.

She let out a frustrated sigh, stepping aside. "Fine. Be an idiot. But don't expect me to pretend I don't notice when you show up looking like that."

I rolled my eyes, walking past her toward the cafeteria. I could still feel her watching me, though, like she was trying to figure me out.

Good luck with that, princess.

Even I didn't have myself figured out.

I knew she'd bring it up again.

The second Mallory walked into the garage after school, I could feel it coming. She was determined, stubborn, and probably had too much time on her hands if she was this invested in my business.

I ignored her at first, focusing on the car in front of me, but she didn't make it easy. She leaned against the tool chest, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in that way that told me she wasn't letting this go.

"So," she started, her tone casual, but I wasn't stupid. "Are you going to tell me who did that to you, or do I have to guess?"

I sighed, tightening the bolt I was working on. "You ever consider a career in law enforcement?"

"Not really. I prefer getting answers the fun way."

I glanced up at her. "And what way is that?"

"Annoying the hell out of you until you talk."

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. "Sounds about right."

She watched me work for a minute, then spoke again. "Is it your dad?"

I froze for half a second before forcing myself to keep moving. "I don't know where you're getting that from."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, tapping a finger against her chin. "Maybe the fact that Joey looked two seconds away from locking you in the office and demanding answers earlier?"

I gritted my teeth. "Lynch needs to mind his own business."

She scoffed. "Good luck with that. My dad's got a bleeding heart for lost causes."

I shot her a look. "Are you calling me a lost cause?"

She smirked. "Didn't say that."

"Implying it, though."

She shrugged, then nudged my foot lightly with hers. "Seriously, Kian. You don't have to act like this is normal."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It is normal. For me, at least. And before you start, no—I don't need saving, and no, I don't need you worrying about me."

She was quiet for a beat. Then, softer than before, she said, "Maybe I want to."

That threw me off more than anything. I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was messing with me, but there was no teasing in her expression.

I swallowed hard, looking away. "You really shouldn't."

She didn't reply, just watched me for a moment longer before finally—finally—pushing off the tool chest.

"Fine," she said, like she was letting it go. But I knew better.

This wasn't over.