“How could you?” he chokes out. “How could you do that to her? You…” I stare back at him. “Sorry, Scotty. You missed your chance with her.” His right hand balls into a fist. He wants to hit me. It says a lot about him that he doesn’t do it, even though I’m an easy target with my hands cuffed behind my back. He’s still a wuss. He won’t even do anything when he sees the girl he’s had a crush on for ten years bleeding to death in the trunk of a car.
