“Hey…,” Bryce greeted, hoarse and exhausted.

“You watched…” I gestured towards the monitors.

“Yeah. I erased it all until the last second where he lunged. It’s self-defense.

They’ll take that and leave it,” he said grimly.

I moved to his side and sat down, wearily.

Bryce grinned, sadly, and brushed a thumb across my cheek to tuck back a loose tendril. I felt the trace of blood that was left instead of his loving touch, but I didn’t care.

I turned and gazed at Corrigan.

“He’s so pale,” I murmured.

“He’ll pull through. He woke up a little while ago.”

“He did?”

“He’s fighting.” Bryce bent and kissed my forehead. “That’s what we do.”

EPILOGUE

Miss Connors exclaimed brightly, “So!”

I cringed against the harsh sound and sunlight that filtered through her office windows. I curled into a ball on her chair and rolled my eyes in annoyed resignation.

“Sheldon!”

“What?” I cried out, annoyed. “I graduated yesterday. I’m hung over. Sue me.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“You’re supposed to be my counselor. What happened to all the sympathy and condolences?”

“The ‘sympathy and condolences’ went out the window when you used a certain expletive with me that pertains to intercourse.” Miss Connors smiled tightly. She twirled her finger in the air and exclaimed, “So you can ‘screw off’ when you ask for that.”

I grinned, “That wasn’t what I said.”

Miss Connors sighed, folded her arms, and asked, “So how’s it going with your parents?”

“What parents?”

“You know—the dad that’s still out of the country? The mom that’s suddenly trying to be a mother with all this media attention? Those parents.”

Oh. I shrugged. “They’re fine.”

“They’re a disappointment,” Stephanie said for me because I couldn’t. Two months of therapy and my counselor finally realized that I couldn’t ever say those words, but I liked hearing them. Hell, I needed to hear them.

I shrugged again.

And she sighed. She shifted and sat on her hands, prim and proper, and fast studiously, “You know, Sheldon, you have a right to feel anger at your parents.”

“What for?” I asked.

She nodded, solemn, and encouraged with a nod, “What do you mean?”

“Mom’s a fraud. My dad’s gone. What am I supposed to feel angry about? I can’t do anything about it and I’m just wasting energy.”

“You still call them Mom and Dad and, yet, you talk about them like they’re not your parents.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Being your counselor?”

“You’re annoying.” I glanced out the window.

“I care,” Miss Connors said softly and watched me intently. “And that’s why you put up with me—because I care and I’m here and I’m listening. And I want to listen to more.”

“Gag me.”

“Maybe later.”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it and Miss Connors didn’t hold it against me.

“So!” Miss Connors said abruptly with a bright smile as she slapped her hands on her lap. “Are you going to ask me the question why you came in for a session that wasn’t mandatory today? We’ve been seeing each other for six months, ever since it all went down, and there’s one question that I know you haven’t asked and I know you want to ask…so just ask it, Sheldon.”

I took a breath and asked the million-dollar question, “Why the handcuffs?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes and chuckled lightly. She leaned back, crossed a leg over her other and sighed, “Because I wanted to annoy you as much as you annoy everyone else.”

“Seriously?”

I muttered.

“Seriously.” She laughed. “No, there’s a real reason for them, but you guys cheated when you got them off so I’m not telling.”

I remarked, “You should get laid.”

“I did. Last night. Twice,” she clipped out and leaned forward. “It’s scary isn’t it?

Letting people in, not controlling everything. It’s downright terrifying and you don’t want me to press the point, but I can’t resist.”

“God! You piss me off!” I snapped out.

And Miss Connors smiled, triumphantly.

What counselor would enjoy making their client squirm in fury?

Mine.

“I know,” Stephanie proclaimed. “And that’s how I have to communicate with you.”

I glared, but she was right.

“Okay, I know the hour’s up. Give my best to Bryce and Corrigan. And…send a postcard from Europe, Sheldon. I never would’ve thought that I’d actually miss all of you guys, but Europe won’t know what’s hit them. Tell Bryce good luck with Barcelona.”

I nodded, jerkily, and clamped a hand to hers. I squeezed it abruptly and then left quickly. I didn’t want to look back. As I walked down the hallway, Corrigan was teasing Logan with whispered promises of—I’m sure—sexual positions. Logan blushed like she always did. I was slightly nice to her because she had held Corrigan’s hand in the hospital when Bryce and I weren’t there.

That earned some spine of steel points in my book.

And Grace—that was the shocker heard throughout the school’s social hierarchy.

Grace Barton, former loser and social defect, was now friends with me. Bryce and Corrigan didn’t understand it, but I saw it with my own eyes. She was sickeningly sweet at times, but she had strength that amazed me. I didn’t understand her and somehow—we came to be best friends.

And Bryce and Corrigan—they hadn’t changed. They were just wanted more by every female in the school. Bryce was officially and publicly hailed as an up-and-coming star in the professional leagues. Girls were starting to arrive in our town, but I had more than enough venom to send them packing.

Corrigan lifted his head as I approached.

Bryce grinned and raked a hand through his Mohawk as he leaned beside my locker.

“How’s Miss Connors?” Bryce asked.