Broken Beautiful Hearts(97)

“They’re coming over here.”

“Well, we’re standing near the exit,” Christian says.

I wait for Owen to look up, but he doesn’t. Cutter sees me and says something to him. She must hate me. I lied to her, too. And I cost Owen the fight.

Lazarus walks by first and squeezes my arm as he passes.

Cutter gives me a sad smile. “You should go in case he comes out this way.”

She means Reed.

“I just wanted to make sure Owen was okay.” My voice sounds strange and far away, like it doesn’t belong to me.

Owen stops next to Christian and finally looks up at me. I shudder when I see his face. He has stitches above his eye, secured with butterfly tape. His whole face is swollen, and the shadows of bruises are forming along his jaw and cheekbones.

“I’m so sorry.”

The look on Owen’s face tears me up inside.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says. “Guess I wasn’t the only one hiding something.”

“Come on, kid.” Cutter puts her hand on Owen’s shoulder and steers him toward the exit. “You need to get home and put some more ice on your face.”

“I’m gonna go with Owen,” Tucker says.

We watch them leave. Christian slings his arm around my neck. “Let’s get outta here. I don’t want to see your ex or his loser friends.”

I nod and follow him to the car. I’m numb inside.

Cameron is in the front seat talking to Grace, and he gets out when he sees me. “You okay?”

The moment he asks, I burst into tears. “No.”

Cam hugs me.

I get in the car and Grace hugs me, too. “We saw Owen across the parking lot. He looked awful—”

“He lost.”

Grace hugs me tighter. “It’s not your fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“It’s Reed’s. That guy is…” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say anything. You were with him for a long time.”

“You can say it,” I tell her.

“He’s a total asshole.”

“I second that,” Cam says, and Christian adds, “Third.”

Grace drives, and it’s quiet until my phone rings. My heart leaps.

Please be Owen.

“Who is it?” Grace sounds hopeful.

I check the display. “Unknown caller. That means it’s probably Reed.”

“Give me the phone.” Christian practically jumps between the seats trying to grab it.

I yank the phone out of his reach. The last thing I need is for this situation to get any worse. I answer the phone and immediately hang up.

Within seconds, it rings again and I do the same thing: answer and hang up.

I turn off the ringer, but I still hear the phone vibrate every time Reed calls. By the fifth time, I’m tired of answering and hanging up, so I just let it go to voice mail.

“That guy has some serious problems,” Christian says. “You think I could take him in a fight?”

I’m not sure if he’s asking Cam or me, but I’m the only one with the answer. “No.”

“Why’d you say it like that? You didn’t even think about it,” Christian complains.

“I don’t have to. He’s a trained MMA fighter. You’re a football player. It’s not the same.”

Christian scowls. “I fight plenty.”

“Not in a cage.”

“It might be a nice change of pace if nobody got into a fight,” Grace tells him. “You could settle your problems without beating anyone to a pulp.”

After Reed keeps calling for twenty minutes, I want to throw my phone out the window. “I have eight voice mails already.”

Christian holds out his hand. “Seriously, give me the phone. I’ll talk to him. He’ll never call you again.”

What could Reed possibly have to say that requires eight messages? He’s probably gloating.

“What the hell does he want?” Cam asks.

“He’s a stalker,” Grace says. “Who knows? The guy isn’t exactly stable.” She glances at me. “No offense.”

“I’m not with him anymore. Feel free to insult him whenever you want. I’m going to see why the hell he keeps calling.”

I listen to the first message.

“Peyton. You obviously know it’s me, because you keep hanging up. I feel bad about beating the shit out of your new boyfriend. Actually, I don’t. But I feel bad about making you feel bad. I mean, I just won the championship, and I can’t enjoy it because you’re not here. If you’d give me a chance to explain, we could work this out. Call me back, or pick up when I call. This whole thing is a big misunderstanding. We can work this out. I love you.”

A misunderstanding?

I hang up and lean back against the seat.

“What did he say?” Grace asks. “Is he threatening you?”

“No. He wants to talk so we can get back together.” I’m tired of Reed and his manipulative crap.

Grace looks over at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I shake my head and shrug. “No. He had a whole pitch.”

“Let me have the phone,” Cam says.