Since I don’t have social media, sometimes Aiden indulges me and lets me browse through his to see what’s going on out there. It’s fun, pretending to be normal. Even if his is currently littered with a mix of moral support and death threats. I usually block those people for him before he sees what they’re saying.

“Then you got a deal,” I reply, spying my favorite button on the car’s console.

“Oh look! The butt warmer!” I reach to press the button when Aiden suddenly brakes a bit too hard.

“What is that?” His tone serious, harsh.

“The butt warmer? You know, you press it and it warms up your seat?”

He safely pulls over on the side of the road, grabs my hand, and shoves up my sleeve. The one that’s covering my bruise.

“No. I meant this.”

I automatically yank my hand out of his grasp. “It’s nothing. You’re overreacting.”

Aiden narrows his eyes at me. He’s deathly calm, his gray eyes cutting right through me.

“It’s not nothing. That was the shape of a hand—finger imprints.”

I cradle my arm defensively as my pulse speeds up, wondering if he can hear how loudly my heart is racing. “You didn’t even get a good look at it. You can’t possibly tell what it looks like. And that’s because it looks like nothing. It’s just a bruise, I’m clumsy. You know this.” My words come out shaky. I’m doing a very poor job making this lie believable, and he knows it too.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His jaw clenches. I can tell he’s trying his hardest to stay calm and not erupt in anger.

“When were you alone with Ryan?”

I’m taken aback. I try to read the expression on his face but he’s put his guard back up. My heartbeat is the only noise in the small space. “How did you know it was Ryan?”

He studies me, his hands clench into fists. “You do remember that I’m actually very smart, right? Plus, you just confirmed it.”

Damn it! I can’t believe I just fell for the oldest trick in the book.

This is the last thing we need right now. I can’t have Aiden defending me by picking a fight like when he found the bruise Dave left on my stomach after that time at the Tracks. I need to defuse this situation before he does something stupid. “Aiden really, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s not that bad? Jesus, Thea! There’s a literal handprint on your wrist from where he grabbed you!” He pauses as his eyes widen. “Where else did he hurt you? Let me see. I swear to God if he—”

He moves to, I don’t know, take off my sweater to check for more bruises, but I push him off of me. “I’m fine, Aiden. Really. You’re overreacting.”

He studies me with an expression I don’t like seeing on him. His eyes are alight, and there’s a fire in them that promises pain.