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not fine. Logan, you found your mother murdered yesterday. Why are you even here today?”
    “My dad insisted on normalcy. You know the Colonel. Why deal with anything as paltry as emotion?” And Logan knew that he shouldn’t be seen talking to her now. Anyone—a killer—could be watching them. “I’ve gotta go.”
    “Logan, you look . . . devastated. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me.” Her eyes filled with tears. For him. “I’m here now. I know how the death of a mom feels. I’ll help you through it. We’ll talk, or whatever you need.”
    He swallowed. That was his Cherry—giving, willing to do anything to soothe and please him. But he wanted her to live more.
    “I don’t need anything from you.” He turned away.
    “Wait!” She grabbed his shoulder, pulled him back. “Let me explain last night. I snuck out and got on my bike to come to the park and see you. I didn’t get two blocks before a car nearly ran me over.”
    Logan’s heart seized up. “Oh my—Are you hurt?”
    She angled her arm around from under her sweater. It was covered in a big white cast. The entire arm was in a sling. “The car came out of an alley. I guess whoever was driving didn’t see my reflectors. I jerked away so they didn’t mow me down, and they drove off. I hit the fence and fell. Dropped my phone. The jerk drove off. My shoulder was dislocated and my arm broken. My stepdad and I were in the ER until after midnight.”
    You didn’t listen. Tara paid. The warning burned through Logan’s head.
    He swallowed down fear. “The driver didn’t stop to help you?”
    “No.” She looked down and shook her head. “He screeched off, like he was in a hurry.”
    Or like he didn’t want any witnesses. Tara’s “accident” had been Logan’s last warning; he felt it all the way to his bones. Even now, standing in the hall with her, he could be signing her death warrant. Whoever had written this note had also killed his mother—brutally. Bled her out and enjoyed her slow, torturous death. Logan knew that if he stayed near Tara . . .
    Fuck, he couldn’t even finish the sentence. The images pummeling his brain filled him with fresh panic. He forced himself to shake off her touch and back away.
    “It doesn’t matter,” Logan choked out and turned away to shut his locker.
    For a moment, he squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to do this. Being without Cherry was going to hurt so fucking bad. He needed her, loved her. But this wasn’t about him.
    He drew in a deep breath. Once he turned and spoke to her, she’d never look at him the same way again. In fact, she was so caring and certain to be worried about his grief that he’d have to make sure she never wanted to speak to him again.
    God, she was going to hate him for this. Hurting her was going to kill him.
    Logan hesitated, pressed his lips together. No matter how excruciating, he needed to grow a set—now. Better his heartache than her death.
    Shoving down the anguish ripping him to pieces, Logan turned. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but you not showing doesn’t matter. Tara, we can’t be together anymore.”
    Her expression became guarded. “Did you finally decide that jocks like you can’t be with brains like me?”
    Tara looked ready to tear into him for that, filling him with a bittersweet pride. He’d love to take her to the prom, shock all his friends. Yeah, he was dating a smart girl. And he loved her. If they didn’t like it, they could kiss his ass.
    But the opportunity to show her off as his would never come now.
    She shook her finger at him. “I won’t believe it. You’ve spent three months convincing me that was my hang up, not yours. You haven’t suddenly had a change of heart.”
    “It’s just not working for me. I’m used to dating a certain kind of girl.” Vapid, sleazy, and utterly dull. God, he’d miss Cherry.
    Tears filled her big brown eyes. “You’re going to fail the Romeo and Juliet test without