Having spent a day at home being fussed over by my mother, I jumped at the chance to go back to school. The doctor said I’d be fine. I may have a mild concussion but I have no adverse symptoms, and all that’s left to heal is the bruising on my leg, face, shoulder and forehead. Thankfully my hand didn’t need stitches, but I do have to wear a bandage for a couple more days.

I look like Frankenstein, but I refused to cover it up with makeup. I have nothing to hide, and the thought of smearing foundation on my tender skin was enough to put me off.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Max asks as we get out of the car.

She pockets the keys and walks around to my side.

“I’m fine, sis. Seriously. If my head starts to hurt, I’ll go home.”

“It’s not your head I’m worried about.” Max gives me a dubious frown. “It’s the gossip drone that’s going to hover above you all day.”

“I can deal with that,” I reassure her. I’m lying out my butt, of course, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Pasting on a brave smile, I hitch my bag onto my shoulder and walk into school, flanked by my sisters.

Their silent protectiveness gives me the strength to walk up those front steps and into a sea of wide-eyed stares. I meet a few gazes, giving everyone a shaky smile before untucking my hair and attempting to cover the worst of my bruising.

“Unless you’re planning on combing your hair over your entire face, that’s not going to work.” Max nudges me with a little smile and propels me down the hallway.

I let out a soft groan, wondering if this is seriously the worst idea ever.

Rounding the corner, we bump into a group of Pitbulls. The second they see me, they gather around to see how I’m doing. Zane pats my shoulder with a sympathetic smile while Kingston and his girlfriend wince at my face and then start telling me I’m so brave and they hope the guy who hurt me gets caught. I do my best to answer them, but it’s really hard to focus when all I can see is Holden standing on the edge of the crowd. His blue eyes study me, telling me he wants to muscle through everyone, pick me up and carry me away.

I wish he could.

Glancing to my left, I find Chloe and remind myself why Holden can never be more than a teammate. She gives me a sweet smile and rubs my back.

“Be nice to yourself today,” she whispers before kissing my cheek and heading off to her locker. As she glides past Holden, she checks him out, then pulls her sleeves down over her hands and keeps walking. Her long hair slides over her shoulder when she dips her head.

The fleeting thought that maybe I should tell Holden to get over me and please start falling for my sister rushes through the back of my brain. But my heart won’t let it stick.

I can’t. I just can’t do it.

“Only four months to go.” Max reads my mind and gives my arm a little squeeze before pulling away from me. “Catch you at lunchtime.”

I nod and watch her walk away just as the bell rings.

The students disperse in different directions…except for Holden and Luke.

As soon as the hall is clear, they step towards me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod at Holden’s question. “Feeling like a bit of a freak, but…” I shrug.

“Nah.” Luke grins. “You’re cool.” He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a little squeeze.

I flinch as his fingers dig into my bruise.

“Oh, sorry.” He quickly lets me go, raising his hands. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s okay.” I clear my throat. “I’ve got bruises all over the place that I keep forgetting about.”

He winces and rubs his forehead likes he’s hurting for me.

And that’s when I notice it.

It’s probably nothing, but something in my gut hitches.

There’s a buckle missing on Luke’s jacket sleeve.

It’s nothing.

No big deal.

But my eyes skim down his jacket anyway.

It’s black.

A memory flashes through my brain—grabbing my attacker’s wrist to stay standing. Our little tussle as he tried to wrench free of my grasp.

Without thinking, I rub my thumb across the cut beneath my bandaged hand. Luke’s gaze flickers to it, but then he looks up with a kind smile, making me think that I’ve got it all wrong.

So he’s got a black jacket. That’s not proof.

It can’t be Luke.

“We’ve got your back today, okay?” He grins and I look him right in the eye.

He’s smiling at me, his expression nothing more than friendly concern.

“Hey.” Holden catches my attention. “Are you sure you’re up for this today? You’re looking kind of pale.”

“I’m all right.” I force my head to bob up and down, then go a step further and smile, even though it hurts my face. “I better get to class.”

“Do you want us to walk you?” Holden steps up beside me.

His strong hand on my back guides me forward and for a second I have to wonder if he’s covering for his best friend. Are they in on this together?

I glance up at the guy I thought I knew.

He gazes down at me, his eyes glimmering with tenderness.

I just can’t make myself believe it.

My chest feels like it’s being squeezed by a corset, the strings getting tighter as I glance at Luke’s jacket again.

I’m struggling to picture what my attacker was wearing. All I got was black.

Surely it’s not Luke. I mean, the guy would have to be ballsy as hell or just plain stupid to wear the same clothes to school that he attacked me in.

Unless he doesn’t know that the buckle is missing.

Am I going out of my mind?

Maybe I was concussed more severely than I realized.

Luke and Holden talk over me as they guide me to homeroom, but I barely hear a word. All I can think about is heading to the workout room to look for a buckle with my blood on it.

* * *

I skip second period, feigning a headache, and sneak down to the workout room. Unfortunately Coach Keenan is in his office. I mutter a curse and press my back against the wall, wondering when the hell I’m going to find a private moment to reenact the attack.

I’m not overly keen on sharing my absurd theory until I have some proof.

Not that a broken buckle is going to be damning evidence, but why can’t I shake this sick stirring in my gut?

A creak catches my attention and I stiffen, shuffling down the corridor and hiding in the entrance to the girls’ locker room.

Classes have already started so I’m safely alone.

And better still, Coach Keenan is hustling down the hallway to the PE class he’s running late for.

Nerves skitter through me as I watch him leave, then carefully sneak back to the workout room.

The lights are on as I weave my way through the gear and stop outside his office.

I freeze for a second, fear gripping me as I relive the first moment of pain. My eyes snap shut and I fight off the shakes with a slow breath.

I’m safe now.

Balling my uninjured hand into a fist, I slowly open my eyes and scan the area. Dad’s already inspected it thoroughly and he never mentioned finding a buckle. I’m probably just making this whole thing up, my brain desperate for some kind of closure.

Knowing my attacker is still out there is unnerving, and I’m not ready to just let this go.

Letting out a shaky breath, I force myself to relive that horrible fight.

Working in slow motion, I reenact what I can, paying extra attention when I get to the hand-cutting part. I imagine a buckle slicing through my skin before flinging off to the side. I keep my eyes wide open and follow an assumed trajectory, running my hand down the office wall and ending up on my knees. Crawling around with my palm flat on the floor, I study the whole area, even sliding my fingers beneath the shelving.

That’s when I feel it. I brush something hard and flinch still.

My breath is on hold while my heart starts racing. Sliding my hands a little further into the narrow space, I carefully work the object towards me. It takes a while and I’m biting my tongue between my teeth by the time the corner appears.

Finally releasing my breath, I snatch the metal and wiggle it free, holding the buckle up to the light.

“Shit,” I whisper, slumping onto my butt and studying it.

There’s a very faint smear of blood on the top right corner.

That’s mine.

I slide my thumb into the palm of my hand, pressing down on my wound.

My eyes start to sting with tears.

Am I right about Luke?

I can’t be one hundred percent sure. I mean, there are a lot of black jackets in this world, and more than one is bound to be missing a buckle.

My stomach pinches the same way it did when I was talking to Luke this morning.

I need to give this evidence to Dad and have him deal with it.

But…

What if I am right?

Biting my lips together, I stand on shaky legs and hunt around for something to keep the evidence safe. In the end I settle for a paper towel from the girls’ locker room. Carefully wrapping the evidence, I slide it into my pocket and wonder what I’m supposed to do.

Luke is Holden’s best friend.

If he is guilty, Holden’s going to take it really hard.

I can’t just take this theory to my dad without at least telling Holden first.

I know that’s not good police work, but I’m not a police officer. I’m a girl who cares a lot about someone who’s going to be really hurt by this information.

The idea of Dad dealing with it in his gruff way just doesn’t sit right.

I have to give Holden a heads-up.

Dread pools in my stomach, slowly rising up my body until I feel like I’m choking.

Nothing good is going to come out of this.