Elliot’s [POV]

“You’re going to give the damn thing a concussion,” Dax remarked, leaning up against the wall in his garage. He parked in the driveway, so we could use his garage as a miniature boxing gym. We never really used it for boxing; just punched the bag a bit when things got shitty. We’d had big plans for it, but then everyone started meeting their mates and whatnot.

“It’s a punching bag,” I growled back at him, slamming my fist into the thing.

“Should I ...