Page 48 of Fragile

Fifteen minutes later, we’re throwing the ball across the field. Coach wanted this practice to be about cardio and endurance and not plays so here we are.

In the time I’ve been passing the ball, I’ve fumbled as much as I’ve caught, because I have to actively stop myself from glancing across the field. Which is nearly impossible because they’re loud, and with the reminder that Quinn is over there, it’s much harder to concentrate. Her bright smile can be seen even from yards away. I can feel her infectious energy like a magnet, pulling my gaze her way.

“Cooper, head in the game!” Devin, my teammate, smacks my shoulder, jolting me back to reality. “You’re gonna get a ball to the face, dude.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I mutter, forcing myself to look away. I need to focus. But my mind keeps drifting back to Quinn, her laughter ringing in my ears.

A sudden scream pierces the air, slicing through the sounds of whistles and shouts. My heart lurches, because I know that sound. I heard it enough growing up. Spinning around, I see a figure crumpled on the ground. Quinn. Without a secondthought, I sprint across the field, my cleats pounding against the turf along with my heartbeat.

Quinn’s face is contorted in pain, her hands clutching her ankle. Her teammates crowd around her, but they make little effort to help.

“What happened?” I demand, kneeling beside her.

“I—I fell wrong,” Quinn stammers, wincing as she tries to move her foot. “I think I rolled my ankle.”

“Alright, let me help you,” I say, my voice calm but firm.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Quinn protests, trying to stand. She stumbles, and I catch her before she can fall again. “Ahh, ouch ouch ouch!”

I scoop her up effortlessly, ignoring the murmur of voices and the crowd gathering around us. Quinn's protest is also lost when I look down at her with a look that tells her I’m not putting her down.

Seb pushes through the small crowd and appears at my side. I tense, wondering what he might think of me holding his sister, but as I look over, his face is tight with worry, focused on her. “You okay, Quinn?” he asks, and she gives him a small nod. He deflates and slaps my shoulder. “Get her to the physio, Miles,” he orders, his voice low but firm.

I nod, already moving in that direction, my grip on her secure. “I'm on it.” I should be more worried about repercussions, of just running over here, acting on instinct, but I’m hoping he won’t read into it and plays it off as a friend’s duty to help.

“Hey! She’s our responsibility,” the squad captain clips, her hands on her hips, snapping my attention her way.

“She’s hurt,” I shoot back, and my tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m taking her inside.”

Glancing once more to Seb, he nods and says, “I’ll be there in a sec, just gotta talk to coach.”

Quinn’s arms instinctively wrap around my neck. She’s light in my arms, her warmth against my chest a stark contrast to the cold sweat on my skin. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I don’t care. My only concern is the girl in my arms.

The hallway to the locker rooms is fortunately empty. Quinn trembles slightly, whether from pain or something else, I’m not sure. I glance down at her, to see her chewing her bottom lip. “Hey, you doing okay?” I ask softly.

Quinn nods, her face pale. “Yeah, just hurts. Thanks, Miles.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I can see the pain she’s hiding. Without thinking, I shift her slightly in my arms and lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead. Surprise flickers in her eyes before they soften. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and I catch a hint of color returning to her cheeks.

I nudge the locker room door open with my shoulder and carry her inside, gently setting her down on a bench. Kneeling in front of her, I gently pull off her sneaker and rest her foot in my lap. The skin around her ankle is already starting to swell and looks a little angrier than the other foot.

“We need to get some ice on this.” Grabbing a nearby towel, I wrap it around her ankle for support before slowly lowering it to the floor.

“I’m such an idiot,” Quinn mutters.

“Hey, don’t say that.” My voice is gentle as I look up to her. “I already know this isn’t the first time you’ve sprained your ankle. Remember when we were kids?”

“And I tried to outrun you and Seb to the park?” She huffs an empty laugh. “Yeah, that was really dumb too.”

I chuckle because I remember that day. She insisted on racing us, because she had these new sneakers from her dad. They were some fancy running ones, and he’d convinced her she would run faster than Seb in them. We let her take the lead initially, but then halfway there, she stacked it, and I ended up giving her apiggyback the whole half-a-mile back to her house as her tears soaked the back of my t-shirt. “I mean, youwerepretty fast, until you ate mud.”

She groans, her eyes closed as her head falls back between her shoulders, and the sound and image in front of me awakens something inside that I immediately have to tamper down. “I ate so much mud, it wasn’t even funny.”

“It was a little bit funny.” I gesture with my thumb and forefinger. “You all good to wait here a sec?”

She gives me a weak smile, and I leave, walking over to the cabinet in the room and rummaging through the first aid kit, pulling out an ice pack and snapping it to activate, before returning to her to press it against her ankle. Quinn winces as soon as it touches her swollen skin.

“There we go,” I soothe, pulling her foot back into my lap as I sit. “Just need to keep this on for a while.”

Quinn leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. “You’re really good at this.”

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