Page 7 of Broken Hearts

“Hey, it’s me,” I say when he answers.

“Kiddo! How are you holding up?” His voice is gruff but warm, like a well-worn leather jacket that’s seen too many storms.

Hesitation grips me, a bite on my lip betraying my uncertainty. “Max, all this time, there was strength inside me, or so I believed. I thought I had moved past everything, that the shadows of the past had faded. Yet, now, facing even a glimpse of my past, I find myself on the verge of crumbling.”

There’s a pause on the line, and I can almost picture Max’s thoughtful frown. “Strength isn’t about never feeling weak. It’s about feeling those moments and pushing through, anyway. Remember that.”

His words are a gentle reminder, a nudge back toward the resilience I know lives within me. “I… I need to know I can handle this.”

“You can and you will. You know Blaze owns the military bar in town. He can swing by, keep an eye on things if you need, and have a word with whoever needs some talking to.”

Blaze, another member of Max’s close-knit circle of ex-military friends, is as intimidating as they come, but underneath his exterior, there’s a protectiveness that could cause mayhem.

“Thanks, Max, but that won’t be necessary,” I admit, a small smile finding its way to my lips.

“Just give the word, kiddo. And remember, it’s okay to feel the weight of the world sometimes. Don’t let it keep you down. You’re stronger than you think, and if you need a pick-me-up, go there.”

“Will do, I promise.”

As I hang up, Max’s words echo in my mind. Strength isn’t the absence of weakness; it’s the will to continue in spite of it. I let out a long breath, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over me. Maybe I don’t have all the answers, but I’m not alone in this journey.

I glance around my room at the walls that have witnessed my tears and laughter. I lift my chin, feeling a newfound resolve steeling my spine, ready to confront whatever challenges lie ahead. With people like Max and Poppy in my corner and the lessons I’ve learned, I’m more than just a survivor. I’m a fighter, ready to face another day.

Chapter 4

Cole

The locker room echoes with the sound of laughter and the clatter of cleats against the tiled floor. Practice had been grueling. But the camaraderie in the air after a tough session always lifts my spirits.

“Seriously, Ethan, I saw you lurking around Curly’s apartment. What are you, her personal stalker now?” I tease, tossing my towel over my shoulder as I lean back against my locker.

Ethan rolls his eyes, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “It’s not stalking, man. It’s… strategic positioning. And it’s funny how you know that, though? Were you there too?”

Grinning, I repeat his words. “I was doing… strategic positioning too.”

Liam shakes his head, wrapping his towel around his neck. “Strategic positioning? Mate, that’s like Stalking 101.” His British accent makes it sound softer than I knew he intended. “If I have to get you out of custody, I’ll be seriously pissed.”

“You’re not; things are starting to move in the right direction,” Ethan replies as he towel-dries his hair, and I throw him a side look, wondering if it is actually the truth or if he is, like me, lying to himself.

Liam sighs, and it’s weary like he’s expecting too much shit coming from us, and once again, I don’t think I can deny that.

He turns his inquisitive eyes toward me. “How’s Operation Eva going?”

I shoot him a glare. “It’s a work in progress,” I reply, keeping it vague. My obsession with her is my business, and the less they know, the better.

“Work in progress, huh? I see.” He purses his lips, and I shrug.

It’s probably true that Poppy wouldn’t call the cops on Ethan; she’s a stern girl, yes, but there isn’t as much animosity when she looks at Ethan. Thinking of Eva… yeah, I can’t suppress a wince. My girl would; she’d definitely put the cops on me, and, oddly enough, that thought brings a smile. Her fierceness, those claws of hers, I love them. Even if it means they’re sometimes out for me too.

“Why are you smiling?” Liam’s question catches me off guard. He lets out a sigh, full of frustration and humor. “I’m only twenty-one. I’m too young to parent your grown arse! I—” He runs his hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not going to be here forever. I’m leaving at year’s end, and I need a new captain. Just… do better.”

Ethan and I look at each other, and for once, we really understand each other. We don’t think we have a choice.

The good mood has faded, and silence accompanies my getting dressed, the aches from the start of season training hard to ignore. Coach is pushing us to our limits, weeding out the weaker links. An ice bath would be ideal today, but there are things to organize for Operation Eva. Glances at my phone become frequent, debating whether to accidentally bump into Eva on campus. Since that incident in the library, I’ve taken a step back from our forced encounters. Playing this dangerous game could easily backfire, yet the thrill of the chase, the challenge she presents—it’s intoxicating. At the library, I had only planned to toy with her, but I almost slipped. If not for Poppy’s intervention, I know I’d have kissed her, consequences be damned. There’s a need to rein in my impulsivity. To work smarter.

I’m grabbing my bag, ready to leave the locker room’s charged atmosphere, when Peter’s voice cuts through. “Hey, Westbrook, hitting up the Delta Sigma bash tonight? It’s shaping up to be epic.”

His words halt me midstep. Parties aren’t usually my scene anymore, but this one… it’s an opportunity, a hunting ground for information on her roommates.

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