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“Don’t be sorry.” Clenching his eyes shut, he bowed his head, still clutching my hand to his cheek. “I’m the sorry one.” He released a pained groan and pushed into my touch, rubbing his cheek against my palm. “I just need you to be okay,” he croaked out. His lashes were so thick and hooded that I could hardly see the blue hidden beneath them. “I know I was a complete spanner when I came around after the surgery and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for pushing you away. I was just embarrassed and ashamed…and I was petrified of scaring you off, but I should have stopped you from leaving. I should havehandledmyself better. I should have asked you to stay with me.” Twisting his face, he pressed a kiss to my palm and whispered, “I wanted you to stay with me.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You did?”

“I always want you to stay with me, Shannon,” he replied, clearly agitated. “And if I’d just manned the fuck up about my feelings and asked you to stay, I could have stopped this from happening—”

“No, you couldn’t,” I interrupted him, trembling. “I would have had to go home at some stage. Staying an extra day or two would have only made things a million times worse.”

“Worse?” He clenched his jaw and balked. “Shannon, look where you are. How can it get anyworse?”

“Things can always get worse, Johnny,” I whispered.

“So, he didthisto you?” he came straight out and asked me. “Your da?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Johnny got there first.

“Before you say anything, I want you to know that Joey called me and told me everything I needed to know,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Not that I needed him to. I figured it out on my own.” His hand tightened around mine. “All those times you came to school black and blue and all fucked up—” His voice broke off and I watched as a vein in his neck bulged and pulsed. “All those times you lied to me? It was to protecthim?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered, falling into my lifelong learned pattern of avoidance.

“No, no, we’re not doing that.” Johnny stared hard at me, calling me right out on it. “You don’t get to shut me out, Shannon. You don’t get to do that to me again, because I won’t go this time. Do you hear me? I’m here, I’m in, I care, and I’m not going the fuck away.”

My mind was reeling, struggling to make sense of what he was saying. Did he mean…? Was he…? Did he want…? “You care?”

A pained groan tore from his throat. “Yeah, I care.” He leaned closer. “I care so fucking much I can hardly breathe.”

My breath hitched. “What do you want to know?”

“How about you start with telling me what’s wrong with you,” he suggested, blue eyes glued to mine. “What’s the damage?”

“A few cuts and bruises,” I admitted. “And a collapsed lung.”

“Jesus Christ.” I watched with my heart in my mouth as Johnny’s face drained of color before returning with bloodred vengeance. “Fuck.”

Releasing my hand, Johnny leaned back in his chair and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, putting space between our bodies and his temper. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there for several moments, breathing deep and hard, obviously wrestling with his emotions.

His dark hair was cocking up in forty different directions and he was sporting several days’ worth of stubble on his jaw. Unsurprisingly, the disheveled look worked for him. He had on a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a navy hoodie. The hospital admission band he’d been wearing the last time I saw him was still strapped to his left wrist, and a set of metal crutches lay at his feet.

“You should’ve told me the truth,” he finally said. “What was happening to you.” Dropping his hands from his face, he leaned forward and snatched my hand back up. “I could have helped you.”

“You couldn’t,” I breathed. “And I couldn’t.”

“No?” His voice was sad, matching his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because…” My heart was hammering violently against my rib cage. “Because…”

“Because?” Johnny offered, voice gentle and coaxing as he shifted closer to rest his elbows on the edge of the mattress. “Did you think that I wouldn’t believe you?” He leaned closer, settling his chin on top of our joined hands. “Because I would. Every single time.”

“Because he’s an alcoholic,” I squeezed out, feeling suddenly starved of oxygen. “And I was trying to keep my family safe.”

“Safe?” he continued to probe, luring me into security with his irresistible coaxing, with the promise ofsafety. “From him?”

I shook my head, eyes wide and full of unspoken fear. “The foster system.” My heart felt like it had climbed into my throat, making it hard to get the next part out. “Been there before.” Releasing a pained exhale, I held on to his hand, taking comfort in the way he made me feel grounded. “Don’t want to go back.”

“When?”

“When I was little.” I swallowed deeply, feeling the burn. “It wasn’t…good.”

Johnny nodded, and the heated interest in his eyes told me that he was committing my words to memory. Everything about this boy was intense and larger than life. He was far too intelligent to insult him with any more lies or watered-down truths, so I didn’t.

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