She picked up the homework he’d tossed into the basket and glanced at it, then back at his face. “I understand you had a challenging weekend.”

Challenging. Hilarious. He met her eyes, knowing his own were full of don’t-fuck-with-me. “I’ve had better.”

“Are you okay?”

The question caught him off guard, especially since her expression seemed genuinely concerned. She was the first person to ask how he was doing since the instant he’d been arrested.

His familiar defenses were clicking into place, ready to snap, to flip her off, to blame her for everything, because if she hadn’t caught him cheating, he’d be on the basketball team. He never would have needed Layne’s help, and he never would have gotten into that argument with her father. He never would have gone to that first fire.

And that little girl would be dead. Along with everyone else he’d pulled from a burning building.

He took a breath, feeling his shoulders drop. “Yeah.”

Then, before she could say anything else, he pushed past her desk to drop into his seat.

Taylor Morrissey wasn’t in front of him today, flashing her boobs and flipping her hair. Gabriel looked around—she was across the room, sitting at one of the spare desks, glaring at him like he was a serial killer.

He wanted to mock her, but he just didn’t have the energy.

And then Layne walked into the classroom.

She was wearing jeans and those fuzzy boots girls seemed to like, along with a rich purple turtleneck. No makeup, same glasses.

Her hair was down, loose and straight and shining.

Perfectly average, probably, but Gabriel couldn’t look away from her.

Especially when her eyes met his across the classroom and something inside him uncoiled.

He could read the relief in her expression, the longing and sadness and desperation he knew were mirrored in his own. He wished he could hold her, could press his lips against her skin and whisper promises that he’d never hurt her, that he’d always protect her, that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, that he’d do anything for her, always.

“Hey,” called out Taylor. “Look who decided not to look like a total loser.”

The girls around her snickered.

“That’s enough,” said Ms. Anderson.

Layne was blushing, pushing past the teacher’s desk, her eyes down now. She dropped in the chair beside Gabriel.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Her frenetic movement stilled. She peeked at him through the curtain of her hair. “Hey.”

“Check it out,” said Taylor, her voice loud again. “The burn victim and the pyro. Almost like Romeo and Juliet, right?”

Gabriel whipped his head around, but before he could get a word out, Layne’s hand latched on to his wrist.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Anything you say, they’ll use it against you.”

He bit back the words and faced forward.