A spoon flew from her hand and I caught it in the air.

“Did you attack me with a spoon?” I waved it in front of her.

She grabbed for it, but I kept it out of reach running my finger through the peanut butter.

“‘Attack’ is a strong word. More like ‘yelped and flailed, letting go of my spoon.’” Her lips fluttered with laughter she tried to hold back.

Her peanut butter and green apple snack was in her arms, along with her notebook.

“You’ve been writing.” I nodded to the worn green cover.

“Some.” She tugged the spoon out of my grip and spun, headed back to the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Of course I do.” I watched her walk away, hating it even when it was only to the other room.

We sat beside each other with our backs against the wall, destroying the bowl of peanut butter and apple slices. It made me feel like I was seven and hanging out in Knox’s basement again.

“You’ve been here all this time and you haven’t told me how the game went.”

Plucking the last apple slice from the bowl, I shrugged. “It went okay.”

“Okay? All you’re giving me is okay?”

“You know. Run of the mill.”

“Tell me.” She dug her fingers into my side, pulling up my t-shirt.

I bolted from the bed, pain radiating through my stomach and chest. The hammering throb sent bile racing for my throat.

Collapsing into the chair by her desk, I shielded my side, biting the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood.

Fuck my old man, and fuck me for not being fast enough. He shouldn’t have been able to get the drop on me like that.

Bay’s gaze was trained on the ground. She swung her legs off the bed and braced her hands on the edge of the bed.

“Did you get that at the game?” She peered up at me in that way only she could, the way that made me feel like I was naked in front of her, all the bruises and scars laid bare.

“I’m going to go. You’ve got stuff to do.” This was where I got up. This was where I got up and left this room, making damn sure she wasn’t within touching distance until things weren’t so raw.

“Don’t do that. Don’t just shut down and shut me out.”

“I’m not even supposed to be here. Your mom will freak if she sees me here.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “He hit you—hits you.” She dropped off the bed to her knees and skimmed her hand over my arm.

I hissed and jerked it away from her. “It doesn’t matter. I’m out of here in a few weeks.”

“It matters. Of course it matters, Dare.” Her hand hovered over my leg before she dropped it back into her lap.

“What would happen? I’d get shipped off to a group home? He’s gone most of the time anyway. Usually, I crash on someone’s couch when he’s back, and now that I’m older…” I clenched my fists against my thighs. “It’s not like it was before.” I looked away, staring at her brightly-painted walls with framed pictures of her and her parents. “It’s not like when I was younger.”