He sighs deeply, and there’s a long pause before he says, “Will you come or not?”

I already have my phone out to look up whatever park he’s talking about on the map. “Liam, of course I’m coming.”

My heart races as I step through the doors as if I’m the one who did something wrong. But once I say why I’m here, it turns rather uneventful—mostly sitting in one of their impossibly uncomfortable chairs and waiting, leaving my mindwith nothing to do but spiral and try to figure out what could have landed Liam in here. I just saw him a few hours ago.

The place is dingy, to put it nicely. The yellow-and-blue-tiled floor and buzzing florescent lights overhead look to be a few decades old, at least.

I rise to my feet as Liam steps around the corner but freeze as I take in his face. He’s coveredin dried blood. His face, his hair, his shirt, and as he lifts a hand toward me in a half wave, I realize, his hands. His knuckles aremangled.

Wind rushes into the room as the door opens behind me. A man in a suit shoves through the waiting area, and a storm brews in Liam’s eyes at the sight of him. Liam crosses the room toward me, but then Suit Guy steps in his path, forcing him to a stop.

A muscle in Liam’s jaw ticks as he slowly peels his gaze up to meet the man’s in a way that could only be described as menacing.

“I hope you know you just threw your entire future away,” snaps the man as he thrusts his meaty finger into Liam’s face.

Liam stares at him, unblinking, that same dark, deathly rage brimming in his eyes, but he doesn’t respond. The man keeps his finger up, but he takes a step back.

“Come on,” Liam says lowly to me as he steps around the man, something urgent about his movements now, like he can’t get me out of here fast enough.

We’re nearly to the door when someone else steps around the corner.

I freeze with one foot out the door.

Miles is barely recognizable. He looks like he should be in a hospital. One eye is completely swollen shut, his lip is more busted than mine is, and half of his hair is matted with dried blood.

My gaze slowly swings to Liam as the pieces click into place. He’s already looking at me, his mouth set in a grim line.

He presses a hand to the small of my back, and I can feel the heat of Miles’s attention on me now, but I don’t turn. I just follow Liam out the door.

Neither of us says anything in the car. One look at his hands tells me the shop is closed today, and maybe many days after that. The skin is broken and bloody, and his joints are already starting to swell. He holds the steering wheel loosely like he can’t quite close his fists.

He parks outside Leo’s house, but still, we say nothing. I don’t get out of the car. I haven’t begun to process the situation. I’m still in the police station, frozen the moment I saw Miles walk around the corner.

Miles, who Liam apparently beat the shit out of. Because Liam looks bad, but Miles looks a million times worse.

I wet my lips and glance at his hands resting on the steering wheel, then turn and open the door.

“You might as well come inside to clean up,” I say without looking at him. “Those look terrible.”

It’s not until I’m already in the entryway of the house that I hear his car door open. I head for the kitchen and search through the cabinets for whatever first aid stuff Leo has. I’d laugh at the way the roles have reversed in less than twenty-four hours if any of this was at all funny.

“I can do it,” Liam says from the hall.

“Sit.”

He takes a bar stool in silence as I join him with my makeshift first aid kit and plastic bag full of ice. I grab one of his hands and start dabbing at his knuckles with a cotton ballsoaked in peroxide. He lets out a low hiss through his teeth but doesn’t pull away.

When I’ve finished and moved onto his other hand, he says quietly, “I didn’t plan this.”

His brow is furrowed, and he’s staring intently at the counter.

“So your errand for todaywasn’tto track down Miles and beat him to a pulp?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “Casey—my little brother—he asked for me to present with him for Career Day. I was on my way back and stopped at the skate park to clear my head before work. And I saw Miles there. And he just…I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin like that. I snapped.”

I’ve never witnessed it for myself, but I’m not oblivious. I’ve heard the stories. The other fights, the detentions at his old school, the expulsion that landed him in public school with the rest of us. But hearing about it and seeing the bloody aftermath are two very different things.

He’s never seemed violent, at least not around me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him truly angry. I don’t understand how the calm version in front of me could turn into the person who didthat.