A sea of mortarboards flew up around me, but I didn’t—I couldn’t celebrate this day. There was no happy ending here, only two broken people who’d managed to break one another even further.

His gaze was on me. Even through a sea of celebrating classmates, I could feel it searing my skin.

In the past week, my window and doors had remained locked. I’d gone to Piper’s way more than I should’ve, and kept to long looping paths to class.

Today, there was nowhere for me to run.

“Bay…” His voice cracked, pain radiating from it.

It hit me in the chest like a blow. I braced my hands on the back of the plastic chair beside me, so I didn’t sway on my feet.

My name was on his lips like it had been so many times, but now I’d seen the real Dare—the one people talked about on the field, the one who put another player in the hospital. The one who had murder in his eyes and didn’t care who got in the way. The one who smashed up people’s cars. The one who broke things people loved. I’d thought it had been lies, or people not understanding who he really was. I’d been wrong.

I turned and ducked through the high-fiving and hugging crowd to get to my mom. His presence only steps behind me, I darted down one of the now-empty rows.

People filled the other end, trying to make room in the aisles for photos.

My escape was blocked in every direction, and he stood at the end of the row. I was trapped, unless I hiked up my graduation gown and leapt over the folding chairs, probably breaking both my ankles in the process.

“Bay.” He approached me with his hands out like I was a rabbit with my foot caught in a trap.

I held out my hand to ward him off, still not able to look him directly in the eye. “Don’t, Dare. Leave it alone.”

“I can’t.” The begging tone in his voice was the same one I’d heard on the voicemails and from the other side of my door and window.

“You can. I’m not giving you a choice.”

“Let me explain.” His eyes were red-ringed, wild, and miserable.

“There’s nothing to explain. You picked up my dad’s guitar” —my voice cracked—“After saying all those horrible things, and you shattered it.” My hands flew to my ears like I could block out the words echoing in my brain. “You don’t get to do what you did and pretend you’re the hurt one.” I bit back the fiery words. My palm itched to lash out and free myself from the open-air pen I was stuck in, facing off against the boy I thought I’d loved. The one I had to pretend I didn’t still love.

The look on his face made it seem like I had, like I’d grabbed one of these chairs and cracked it over his head. “Your dad’s.” It came out like a pained whisper.