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“Yes.”

“I don’t want everyone looking at me.”

“They won’t. It’s private.”

“They will.”

“I won’t let them.”

He glared in my direction. Like he wanted to believe me, but he’d learned not to.

I helped him stand. His shorts were torn at the waistband. He tried pulling them up with one hand and sucked in a breath when his injured wrist moved.

“Here… Let me help you⁠—”

He twisted away immediately. “I can do it.”

I stepped back.

Trevor fixed them himself. Slowly and quietly. I looked away the entire time. When he was ready, he said, “Okay.”

I turned around. His face was still dirty. I wanted to wipe it clean, but I didn’t dare try. It was his choice what happened to his body now. It was all I could give him.

We made it halfway back before I heard someone laughing behind us. Trevor stiffened. I pivoted on a sneaker. Two older boys stood near the dock. Watching. One leaned close to the other and whispered something. They both snickered. My vision narrowed.

Trevor caught my sleeve. I glanced down at him. “Were they there?”

He shook his head a little too convincingly, and I looked back over at the fuckers by the dock. They smiled and blew kisses at us. Which was enough for me to recognize the little fucking shit stains from Dee’s group.

“Stay here,” I told Trevor before I took off. The boys bolted.

“RUN!” They disappeared into the trees, and I followed. Branches ripped across my arms but I didn’t feel them.

“You were brave five minutes ago!” I jumped over a fallen log. “WHERE ARE YOU NOW?”

I stopped in the middle of the trail and peered around. The little fuckers were gone, though.

“FUCK!” I punched a tree and the pain shot through my hand and radiated up my arm.

Good. I wanted pain. I wanted something I could hit and break in place of a bunch of sadistic teenagers.

Fuck! Trevor. I’d left him alone again.

I ran back. And thankfully, the poor kid was exactly where he was supposed to be, but he wasn’t alone. Mason was beside him now, looking just as horrified as I felt.

“What happened?” he asked.

Trevor stared at the ground, and I bit my tongue so hard I bled.

“Trevor has to tell you.”

Mason’s eyes dropped to Trevor’s wrist. Then the torn collar. The dirt. The blood. And finally the pants that were barely staying up. Before the tears started pouring down his cheeks. “Tre.”

“I’m okay, Masey.”

Mason stepped closer, and Trevor flinched. So Mason held out a hand instead. Nothing else, and after a moment, Trevor took it.

Then Mason helped me guide Trevor towards the infirmary. It was so slow. Their shoulders nearly touching. Mason always adjusting so Trevor felt comfortable. The kid was step for step. His determination to get to that door with the red sigil was as beautiful as it was devastating.