We crushed each other’s bones, and the beef between us.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you,” I choked back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I wasn’t supposed to show up at school this week, for obvious goddamn reasons. I still did. Not to study, God forbid, but to catch Poppy alone, after her accordion class. Yes, she took an accordion class. Who was I to judge? I was a recovering alcoholic before it was even legal for me to drink.

I waited outside her class, loitering about, kicking invisible air to pass the time.

Apologizing to her was a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else, though I could see it was needed after taking a step back from the alcohol and pills and assessing the clusterfuck that was our brief time together. Specifically, the high note with which it had ended, when I was halfway through putting my junk in her trunk, before confessing that I just couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t do it with someone who wasn’t Luna.

Not then. Maybe not ever.

That was the straw that broke Poppy’s back. I’d watched her descend the tree trunk from our treehouse, fall on her ass, and run in the opposite direction of my neighborhood, where she’d parked her car. Then, I’d had to go down and direct her to the right way, which, of course, was more awkward than bumping into your one-night stand in an STD clinic.

Vaughn and Hunter had tried to tell me I shouldn’t feel so bad, that Poppy had pretty much single-handedly managed our relationship for us, even when I’d tried to break up with her several times. But that was a copout, and I was having none of that bullshit.

I’d hurt her.

I’d wronged her.

I needed to apologize.

End of.

I caught Poppy timidly making her way out of class, staring down at the floor, wearing a huge-ass jacket and one of those big hats you only see in catalogs or on beaches.

“Are you a spy now?” I pushed off the doorframe and fell into step with her, shoving my hands into my front pockets. She was practically making a run toward the exit. Toward her car.

“Worse. I’m a hermit.”

“How so?”

“Everyone’s laughing at me. I’m a bloody joke, Knight. Because of you,” she whispered hotly under her breath, tilting her hat down.

“I’m here to make amends.”

“Pretty sure you’re here to make my life a living hell.”

“I deserve that.” I sighed, still following her as we burst through the double doors and descended the stairs toward the parking lot.

Poppy stopped on the last step, turning toward me sharply. “Look. This is my first day here in a while. Please don’t ruin it for me.”

“It’s mine, too,” I confessed.

“You’ve been sick?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to say it out loud. First, because I didn’t think I could. And besides, I didn’t want her to think it was some kind of bullshit way to milk forgiveness out of her.

By the way Poppy’s face contorted and her lips clamped, trying to bite down the tears and emotions, I gathered I didn’t need to spell it out for her. I was just relieved to know people weren’t talking about what had happened in my family too much. Then again, people had to be a special brand of stupid to say anything about me—positive, negative, or otherwise—with Vaughn and Hunter around.

“Oh, Knight.” She tore the hat from her head, dumping it on the ground. “I’m so, so sorry. That is horrible. How are you holding up? Are you okay?”

Was I okay?

No, I wasn’t.

Not even close.

And in this moment, it felt like I might never be again.

I shook my head, swallowing down all the anger and sadness and bullshit.

“I will be,” I lied. “Seeing how you grew up to be wonderful and kind and understanding without a mom, I know I have a chance of being semi-tolerable as a person. Maybe. But that’s not why I’m here. It’s not, Poppy. I’m here because I screwed up, and I want to apologize. I understand how shitty it must be to walk these hallways and have people talk behind your back. I’m sorry I was the cause of that.”

More people began to pour out of different afterschool classes. A stupidly genius idea formed in my mind.

Full disclosure: It was mostly stupid, but I knew Poppy cared about saving face, and I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me. I knew Luna didn’t give a damn, either.

“It’s quite all right,” I heard Poppy say as I noticed more and more people looking at us curiously as they went down the stairs to their cars. “I knew you were the king of All Saints High. I still chose to pursue you. It is my fault as well as yours.” She sniffed.

“Please.” I shook her shoulders, crying out all of a sudden. Her eyes bulged in surprise. They asked, what the fuck?

Mine answered, just go with it.

“Poppy, I know you dumped me, but I need a redo. I will do anything for a redo, babe.”

So many emotions passed over her face, I thought she was going to faint.

She probably wondered why I was doing this. I wondered the same thing. Maybe I’d realized during Mom’s funeral how loved she was, and I didn’t want to leave this world unexpectedly one day, knowing so many people thought I was a world-class cunt. And to some, maybe I had been—certainly not on purpose, but it wasn’t like that mattered to them.