The pounding at her door was frantic, uneven. She frowned, pulling it open—only to freeze.

Kyle stood there, his hair damp from the rain, blood trailing down his jaw. His hand pressed against his side as if to keep himself from collapsing. When his eyes met hers, there was a flicker of shock.

“…You?” he breathed, almost disbelieving. For a second, he looked like he might laugh, but the pain pulled it back into a wince. “I… didn’t know this was your house.” He shifted awkwardly, leaning against the frame. “Figures it’d be yours.”

He tried to straighten, pride still in his voice even through the hurt. “If you want me gone, just say it. I’ll walk.”