A smile slipped, and she swished a piece of rogue hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her head. “Okay, well, he’s on the honor roll. He carries her books for her in the hallway at school,” she told me. “Oh, and yesterday he shoved some jock up against the lockers, after the guy made a suggestive comment about her.” My eyes thinned to slits. “So, he’s violent.” “Protective.” “I hate him.”
