Broken Beautiful Hearts(3)

“That’s what you say every day.” I follow her inside, dodging the binders and textbooks spilling out of her backpack onto the floor.

“I dropped it.” She kicks the bag and another book slides out. Tess huffs and finishes braiding her pale blond hair. It reaches past her shoulder blades, but she never wears it down. Right now she’s in a braiding phase. She secures the braids behind her head and rolls the rest of her hair around them to form what looks like a crown. I have no idea how she does it. I can barely make a neat ponytail.

I gesture at her hair. “This is new.”

“What do you think?” She tucks a few uncooperative strands behind her ears. “It’s kind of warrior-princess. Right?”

“I have no idea what that means, but it looks cool.” I glance down the hallway behind her. “Is Reed sleeping?”

“Yep.”

Reed knows how much I wanted to get into UNC. Maybe I should wake him up and tell him? Then he could go right back to sleep.

Or he could end up in an awful mood for the rest of the day.

I’ll let him sleep.

A few months ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about waking him, and I probably would’ve jumped on his bed to do it.

“Did he get home late last night?” I ask.

“Super late. And he looked like crap.” Tess looks away with a hint of guilt in her eyes. She bends down and collects the mountain of crumpled paper, pens, and textbooks. She tries to shove it all back into her bag, but it won’t fit the way she’s jamming it in there.

“Was he at an underground fight?” I ask.

“He didn’t say. But his hands were banged up when he came home, and he was walking around holding a bag of frozen peas against his jaw.”

Reed got involved in the underground fight scene two months ago. He figured out that he could make more money in one night’s worth of street fights than he could earn in two weeks training other fighters at the gym.

He dragged me along one night to watch him battle it out in a parking structure while people placed bets. Bloody and brutal, with no rules or referees, the fights barely resembled MMA—or any sport. And Reed loved every minute of it.

“I’m worried about him, Tess. He could get hurt.” She’s never seen an underground fight firsthand. “Whenever I try to talk to him about it, we end up arguing.”

She tugs on the zipper of her backpack, but it still won’t close. “Please don’t be mad at him. I don’t want him in those fights any more than you do. But my mom can’t cover the bills on her own.”

I take the bag from her and reorganize it so everything fits. “I’m not mad. Just worried. If he gets caught, he’ll get kicked out of the league.” And that will be the end of his dream of competing in the UFC.

When we first started dating, Reed and I used to talk on the phone at night, dreaming out loud. He would climb the MMA ranks until a sponsor, or a high profile trainer, recognized his potential. I’d play soccer for a Division I college and get recruited to play professionally after I graduated.

“He’s doing it for me,” Tess says softly.

“You can’t blame yourself.” I work the zipper of her backpack until it closes. “Reed makes his own choices. No one tells him what to do.”

She smiles a little. “Like someone else I know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tess laughs and her blue eyes light up. She and Reed look nothing alike, but they have the same amazing blue eyes. Ocean blue—like the water in the photos of my grandparents on the beach in Cuba, before they immigrated to the US. I’ve never seen water that blue in real life.

On our way out, I notice a hole in the drywall behind the front door. “What happened? It looks like someone punched a hole in it.”

Her eyes dart to the damage. “Close. Reed and TJ were messing around in the hallway when Reed was opening the door. TJ slammed into him, and they hit the door so hard that it swung around and the knob went through the wall. My mom wasn’t happy. She’s making Reed fix it.”

There’s something weird about the hole, but I can’t figure it out.

Tess opens the door, and her mom is standing in the hallway, fumbling with her house keys.

Mrs. Michaels gasps. “I didn’t hear you coming out.”

The shadows around her eyes are darker than usual. She’s probably coming off a double shift at the café. Tess holds the door open for her mother.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Her mom wanders inside like she’s sleepwalking. She tries to hang her keys on the wall hook, but she misses and they drop on the floor.

I rush to pick them up.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Mrs. Michaels yawns.

“You worked eighteen hours straight and you’re exhausted,” Tess says, rushing to the kitchen.

Her mom smiles at me. “How’s everything going with you, Peyton?”

“Good.” Better than good. And suddenly, I feel guilty about it.

Tess returns with a coffee mug and hands it her mom.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Michaels eases herself onto the sofa, takes a few sips of her coffee, and sets the mug on the end table.

“Do you need anything before I leave?” Tess asks.

“No, I’m fine.” Tess’ mom unties her apron and tosses it on the chair. “Go ahead to school.” She rests her head on the arm of the sofa and closes her eyes.