It took every ounce of self-control I had inside of me not to snap and lay his ass out. My hunger for success was the motivation for not reacting. If I retaliated or hit him back, Wren would call his cop buddies, and I would be the one left with a record. Cops took up for cops in this town, and with a criminal record, I could kiss a scholarship goodbye. I didn’t have a rich daddy like Rourke had to bail me out of trouble. I was on my own in this, and fully responsible for every move I made.

Fighting back against the beloved town sheriff wasn’t worth throwing my future away – no matter how badly I yearned to pummel his ass.

When he didn’t get the response he had hoped for, Wren shoved me hard, forcing me to stagger forward. "Get the fuck out of my sight."

Jaw clenched, I did just that, not stopping until I was inside my bedroom with the door locked behind me.

Blowing out a ragged breath, I rested my forehead against the door and clenched my eyes shut.

Nine more months.

13 Molly

All weekend, I had worried about school on Monday. I wasn't sure how Daryl would behave now that we were so-called friends again. Would he be different? Would he be the same as he had been at my house this past weekend or would he play the role I'd watched him play for the past two years?

The Daryl I had watched from the sidelines.

The Daryl who looked through me like I was a pane of glass.

Binging on a marathon of Teen Wolf wasn’t the most productive way to spend a Friday night, but sadly it was one I had become accustomed to. Lacking in the popularity stakes, and with the only friend I had managed to acquire too busy fending off the advances of her stepbrother to hang out, I resigned myself to spending another weekend alone.

But to his absolute credit, and my immense surprise, Daryl approached me first thing on Monday morning. In fact, he did more than approach me; he was at my locker when I arrived, and had even walked me to my first class.

Being around him at school was weird and awkward and I felt on full display, but it was also kind of exciting.

At lunch, he and Rourke sat with us, with Mercy and Rourke treating us to a prequel of world war three, should they ever find themselves at the helm of power. Seriously, I had spent an hour listening to them arguing and I was more confused now than I had been when it started.

"He's a bastard," Mercy continued to rant as we walked to our lockers after our last class of the day. "I hate him, Molls. I mean it this time. I seriously freaking hate that –"

"Keep talking shit about me, Six," I heard Rourke call out from behind us. "You can make it up to me later."