"Real important, huh?" He sniffed the air like it had suddenly turned foul. "Well, I doubt his mama's gonna be happy about you sniffing 'round her boy again."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I've got it, Wren," Daryl bit out, appearing in the doorway. "She's here about our group project," he added, shoving past his stepfather.

"Group project?" Wretched narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "How is it that this is the first I'm hearing about any group project?"

"It's recently assigned," I lied, once again falling into an age-old pattern of covering for his stepson. His gaze flicked to me and I smiled brightly. "It's for extra credit."

"Yeah? Well make it quick," Wretched finally relented with a huff. "We have unfinished business to attend to, son. Don’t want your mama finding out about this, huh?"

Wretched slapped Daryl's shoulder and I watched as every muscle in his body locked tight with tension. When his stepfather disappeared back inside the house, Daryl stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

Shirtless and clad in a pair of grey sweats, he pressed his back to the door, clearly still on edge. "Sorry about him."

"No, it's totally fine," I replied, drinking in the sight of him.

"So, what's up?" he asked, folding his arms across his bare chest.

His bare and bruised chest.

"Hey – are you okay?" Moving closer, I reached a hand up, but froze when he casually slipped out of my reach. My gaze flicked to his face, honing in on the purple swelling on his left cheekbone. "What happened to your face?"

"Nothing," he replied, sounding distant.

"Nothing?" I asked incredulously.

"I fell."

"Yeah," I shot back, eyes narrowed. "Into Wretched's fist."

He blew out a harsh breath. "It's all good."

Like hell it was.

"Why are you lying to me, Daryl?"

"Why are you pushing this, Molly?"

"Because I care," I snapped.

"Then stop," he snapped right back before blowing out a heavy sigh. "I'm okay. I am."

Feeling at a loss, I clutched the straps of my backpack and stared up at him. "I've been worried about you."

Daryl didn’t look me in the eye. Instead, he looked everywhere but my face. "I just told you it's all good."

"You haven't been to school all week."

"Yeah." He rolled his thick shoulders. "I know."

"Are you…sick?"

"No."

"You've got a game tonight." I watched him carefully, praying to see a semblance of the boy I'd spent last weekend with. Right now, I was coming up empty. "Are you still planning to play?"

"Yeah. I sort of have to."

"Oh. Okay."

"Was that it?" he asked flatly. "Because I should get back inside."

Hurt filled my eyes. "Are you…mad at me or something?"

His nostrils flared and he shook his head. "No, Molly, I'm not mad."

"Really?"

"It's all good."

His clipped responses spoke volumes in this moment.

Pity fuck, remember?

He regrets you.

"So that's how it is, huh?" I tightened my grip on my shoulder straps.