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I saw the bruise before he said anything.

It spread along his jaw in a dark, uneven patch, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt when he turned his head.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said.

He stopped.

Sadie stopped too.

Rook and Clayton had the same face, but it had never felt like the same face to me. Clayton gave things away with his. Rook generally looked like he knew something and was deciding whether telling you would be worth the trouble.

Today, whatever he knew had gotten him punched.

I caught his sleeve.

“Turn around.”

“I’m facing you, babygirl.”

“The other way. Toward the light.”

He obeyed, looking resigned.

I touched his unhurt cheek and tipped his face slightly.

He had shaved that morning. I could see where he’d gone carefully around the bruise.

That ordinary detail upset me more than it should have.

He’d stood in front of a mirror, seen what somebody had done to him, and gotten ready for school.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing worth getting upset over.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’ve got.”

His mouth lifted on one side.

I took my hand away before I accidentally pressed somewhere sore.

“Does it hurt when you chew?”

“Only if I’m doing it wrong.”

“Ronan.”

His expression softened at the name.

“Whoa, real name, so serious. Hey, I’m okay. Mom had a good look last night.”

He touched the back of my hand briefly.

That made it worse.

I didn’t want to be reassured. I wanted them to stop showing up with new injuries for me to worry about.