“That’s a good start.” Brougham glanced around us, then leaned in. “Um, also, speaking of immoral mistakes, I want to tell you what the Jack thing was about.”

This pulled me out of my shame spiral more quickly than any lecture. “Don’t tell me he is your half brother?”

Brougham rolled his eyes. “You’re both ridiculous. No. He was one of the people who had a letter leaked.”

My laugh faded, and the hallway went fuzzy. “Oh.”

“We were talking in a group and it came up, and he was drunk, and angry, and it got a bit personal.”

“Personal about me or you?”

“… You. Like I said, he was drunk and angry. And it doesn’t matter what he was saying, but it wasn’t … polite. I told him to shut up, and he kept going, and I saw red.” Brougham stared at the ground. His cheeks were gently coloring. “I’ve never hit anyone before. I didn’t even mean to, it’s like my hand acted without permission from my brain.”

This. Was a lot to take in. So … I’d been the unwitting damsel in distress? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to be the sort of person who goes around punching people. I’ve just never been mad like that before.”

I couldn’t help it. I was flattered, and a little touched, even if I hated the idea of being any sort of distressed damsel with a fiery passion. “You were defending your coach’s honor.” I grinned. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s not.”

“A little. I bet you’d do the same if someone started trashing your swim club coach.”

“I—maybe. I dunno. I hope not.”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it—he looked like a puppy who’d been caught tearing apart a couch cushion. Even though this was serious, and I got how weird he felt about violence, especially with the stuff he saw at home, it was hard not to be charmed by someone who’d stepped in to defend me when I wasn’t there to defend myself, then had the decency to look so goddamn contrite about it. “Well, it’s done. Probably not the best move, but just … try not to do it again.”

He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, pressing his lips together.

“And,” I said, bending down so I could look him in the eye. “Thank you. That was really sweet of you, in a violent, assault-y sort of way.”

He tipped his chin grudgingly. “You’re welcome. And I promise I’ll never give anyone a black eye on your behalf again.”

“Yeah, you probably didn’t need to hit him so hard. Or, you know, at all.”

“I have weight training three afternoons a week. Apparently I’ve got some force behind these things,” he said, swinging his arm back and forth.