Rowan had spent a good chunk of his life standing up for Tommy, more than ready to get into a fight with racists or blood supremacists or people who just could not appreciate his warmhearted nature. If someone so much as looked at him funny, Rowan was ready to throw down. Of course, Tommy was normally ready to hold him back. This was not one of those days, so now Rowan was nursing a black eye and Tommy was fretting him in a way that would rival Mona Rosier and Ivy Parkinson combined. “It’s not like I cursed him. And really, I am not going to go to the hospital wing for a black eye. It will heal on its own. Plus, I’ll probably run into him there.” And the perpetrator sure as hell looked worse than Rowan. “And then I’d have to kill him and dad would have to break into jail to bail me out, so it would be a whole thing.”