I remember all the times Adriana agonized over not wanting Harper before she was born. How bad I felt for her. How guilty.

“Mostly, she was scared that Rhett would tell someone. Boast or brag about it. Most people would try to hide it, but Rhett is a fucking tool and not the sharpest in the shed. Not to mention he flirts with sanity sparsely. So Addy and I made up a story to protect both her and Harper, and gave Harper a semi-legitimate background. We told everyone I was the dad because I didn’t have a good reputation to lose—I already came from an impressive lineage of fuckups. I didn’t mind telling people that Addy was my girlfriend. It kept the teenyboppers at arm’s length. Plus, I never really wanted to date anyone.”

Until you.

“That’s how things have gone for the past three years. And for the most part, everything ran smoothly. When I hooked up with girls like Blythe, Adriana turned a blind eye. And I hooked up with girls all the time since I wouldn’t touch Adriana. But the minute you stepped into the picture, things got messy and real.”

“I’m so sorry for Adriana.” Daria squeezes my shoulder.

“She is crazy about Harper now, so don’t worry about it.”

“I saw you at the park. Castle Hill.” Daria drops her hand from my shoulder. My mind pivots back to two days ago. Addy calling me. Urgent meeting. Gus in the background.

Ding, ding, ding.

My jaw locks. Everyone’s a fucking traitor. The only person who hasn’t betrayed me so far is, ironically, Daria herself.

“I…” I start, and she presses her finger on my lips. I kiss her finger.

“Trade secrets?” She grins, but it’s a sad, tired grin.

“Sure.” I press my forehead to her thighs, breathing her in. “Make it count.”

She tells me what happened with Principal Prichard. How they went on like this for four years. Then about her last visit to his office that ended with her being so sore she still can’t sit properly.

“He was the one who brought me to the park to watch you and Adriana. I think he wanted me to give up on you.”

“Did you?”

She stands up, lifts the hem of her dress, and turns around.

Purple, black, and faded yellow welts cover her ass cheeks and the back of her thighs. I clamp my mouth shut so I don’t fucking wince. The rage of an entire army is lodged inside my body, and for the first time in my life, I worry about my lack of control over what I might do to Gabe Prichard. I’ve always been a hothead but never as deranged as I am now. The hatred I have toward Bauer and Prichard is too all-consuming for me to leave this house for the next decade.

“Oh,” she says, wincing. “And I told Dad about the entire thing and so, by default, spilled the secret that we were sort of together for a second.”

Sort of.

Were.

For a second.

“That’s fine,” I murmur, not sure where we go from here. So much has been said, and I’m still on my knees, and she is still not showing any signs of the warm, responsive Daria who I pushed away one time too many, reminding her that she was not enough. That she will never be enough.

I stand. She does the same. Our bodies sway in the same direction, never touching.

“If you care about me at all, win the game.”

“Why?”

Kudos to her for doing the right thing, but fuck, this is extreme, even for Mother Teresa.

She inhales, bracing herself for what she’s about to say next. “Because I’m boarding a plane next Saturday and finishing my senior year somewhere else.”

My mouth goes dry, and I shake my head slowly. She takes a step closer and folds my shirt under her palm so that the hole in my chest looks like it’s closing in when, in reality, it opens up like a shark’s jaw.

“Everything I touch is tainted, Penn. Everything I want turns to ash. I spent the entire semester trying to be yours, but you’ve never once claimed my heart. I’m sending you to Adriana’s arms, not because I don’t care, but because I do. So much. Maybe too much. Because I screwed up so many relationships, the only way for us to heal is if I take myself out of the equation.”

You are the fucking equation, I want to yell in her face. The riddle and the answer and the numbers within it. You’re math. You make sense.

“Don’t go,” I croak. I sound like a wuss. I don’t even recognize this voice. I want a refund on my vocal cords. They suck.

She takes a step back. I try another tactic.

“Where are you going?”

She shrugs, flinging herself onto her bed, disappearing into the soft mattress like it’s a cloud.

“Come the fuck on, Daria. Give me something to work with.”

She smiles at the ceiling, drifting away from reality.

“You don’t know how the weekend is going to pan out,” I make another point.

“But I do,” she says softly. “That’s the thing about sins. They stack up and blow in your face. You can’t be my shield.”

I can be your anything. Fucking try me.

I turn around. Tug at my hair until my scalp burns. Curse under my breath. The thing about nightmares is that you never know which one your worst is until you live through it. Via and I pushed Daria out of this place. Out of her own home.

Maybe it’s because I can’t move toward the door, can’t end this shit, or generally suck at being human, but after a while, Daria stands up again and escorts me out.

So this is what it feels like to die. Cool. Good to know.

She rises on her toes. I don’t bend down to meet her halfway, knowing a kiss could very much end me at this point. She settles for pressing her lips against my throat.

“Me too,” she whispers as she shoves me out the door.

I look back, my face a huge question mark.

“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”

Why didn’t you tell me we were in love?

Why did you wait for me to find out

When you broke my heart?

I show up on Cam’s doorstep the same night looking like death and probably not smelling much better.

Kannon is peeking behind him, as well as Cam’s sister, brother, mother…his entire neighborhood, basically, stares back at me like I’m fucking ET, complete with the bike and white knitted throw. Naturally, I’d have an audience on the worst day of my life. Karma has a sick sense of humor like that.

“I haven’t been living with Rhett for a while now.” I jump straight to the bottom line, pleasantries be damned.

“We know.” Cam opens the door wider, stepping sideways so I can enter. “Everyone knows, Penn. You think no one tried to drop by? Leave a message? Even your hookups were wondering where you were. No one said anything because we figured you had your reasons. Where were you?”

“The Followhills,” I say. “Via’s there now. She’s back.”

“And how do you feel about it?” Kannon asks.

“Shit.” I smile tiredly.

Everyone nods. Cam’s sister jerks me by the hole in my shirt.

“Little punk, you really got in over your head.”

The week is unadulterated torture. I don’t even bother showing up to the Followhills’ for food and sleep. I sleep on Camilo’s couch, ghosting a worried Mel and a furious Jaime. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, probably on my ass, when Jaime finally confronts me about touching his daughter. But so far, he seems more irritated than cross.