Broken Beautiful Hearts(25)

Based on the conversation, I was expecting Grace to be awkward or mousy-looking, but she’s pretty—thick glossy hair, brown eyes, and rosy cheeks.

April glares at me from beneath her expertly coated lashes. “You’re in the wrong bathroom. Visitors use the one on their side of the stadium.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot, as if she expects me to scurry out.

I’m not a fan of power trips, and April is on a serious one. “Am I supposed to be intimidated? Because I’m just not feeling it. What else have you got?”

Madison puts her hand on her hip and stares. The whole scene is déjà vu from middle school.

April snorts. “You’re obviously not from around here, so I’ll let that go.”

“Are you always this perceptive? What gave me away? My accent or the fact that you’ve never seen me before?” I ask. “I’m actually from a faraway place called Washington, DC. The president lives there, in a big white house called … the White House. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Madison and Grace stare at me wide-eyed, as if I’m the only person who has ever stood up to April.

April narrows her eyes. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Or what? You’ll throw lip gloss at me?” I almost laugh.

I’m done here.

Grace stifles a smile as I pass her on my way out, and I stop. This girl deserves a break. “By the way, your friend, and I use that term loosely”—I gesture at April—“didn’t dump Christian. He dumped her. She was whining about it before you walked in.”

“You bi—” April shouts at me as the door closes.

That was fun.

Sticking up for Grace cheered me up a little.

The stadium has emptied out for the most part, and the sight of the green field makes me feel like running. As a striker, it was my job to move the ball down the soccer field and score goals. The team relied on my speed.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t play soccer. Dad spent hours dribbling alongside me—him with a standard soccer ball and me with a toddler-sized version. He stood in front of a flimsy net we’d made out of PVC pipes, and played goalkeeper for hours so I could practice my corner shots. I lose myself in the memories.

“Hey! Watch—”

I look up in time to see a guy’s broad chest before I walk right into him. My knee gives out, but he catches my arm.

“Nice save,” he says, as if I’m the one who kept him from falling instead of the other way around.

I jerk away from him. The combination of hearing Reed’s voice a few minutes ago and feeling a guy grab me from out of nowhere … it’s too much.

“You okay?” Brown eyes that look even darker against his pale skin.

It’s Owen, the mystery guy from the parking lot.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Why won’t my pulse slow down?

“Yeah. I have to go.” I take off in the opposite direction, embarrassed.

I bumped into a guy and almost jumped out of my skin? This isn’t me. I’m the person who never flinches during horror movies.

The leg brace makes me feel helpless. What if a stranger had grabbed me instead of Owen? Knowing I couldn’t run or fight someone off terrifies me.

Or if someone tries to hurt me again.

Mom and Hawk are exactly where I left them. The Twins have returned from the locker room, freshly showered, and they swapped their football uniforms for jeans and T-shirts. The four of them are huddled together talking. They’re probably discussing my fragile state. They think I’m too traumatized to hang out at a stupid party. But I’m not the damaged person everyone thinks.

I refuse to be that girl.

I walk up behind the Twins and squeeze between them. “So when are we going to that party you were telling me about?”





CHAPTER 11

Bitches and Barn Parties

“I THOUGHT YOU said you weren’t coming,” one of my cousins says. Now that Christian and Cameron have changed out of their numbered football jerseys, I’m back to guessing which one of them is talking to me.

“I changed my mind.”

The Twins each swing an arm over my shoulders and sandwich me in a bear hug.

“Just wait,” one of them says.

“You’ll love it,” the other finishes.

Doubtful.

Mom’s eyes well. “You’re not leaving without giving me a hug, too. I’ll probably be on the road by the time you get back to Hawk’s.”

“You aren’t staying the night?” my uncle asks her.

“I already took today off, and I have an important meeting tomorrow.”

“So where’s my hug?” Mom opens her arms wide and I let her squeeze me as hard as she wants. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Don’t worry.”

“It’s part of the job description.” She releases me.

The Twins trade uncomfortable looks. I want to get out of here as much as they do. The lump in my throat gets bigger every time Mom sniffles.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I give her another quick hug and walk toward the Twins, who perk up the minute they realize we’re leaving.

She waves. “I love you, sweetheart.”