Asshole. “Get out,” I said. He nodded, turning around. “Well, I tried.” And then he looked back at me over his shoulder. “Has Will seen the bruises?” I tensed. “Be prepared for what’s going to happen when he does,” he warned. “And what can happen to him if he goes up against a cop.” He walked out, and I stood there, my shoulders slowly slumping with the weight of his words. Will could never see the bruises.
