Page 87 of Breakaway Hearts

“Great. Now go on. Go home.”

I leave him standing behind his desk, and the locker room is empty when I get back. I don’t linger. I don’t want to. Not when the weight of what I just did and the consequences of it are hanging over me. I just want to get home and lie down. I want to talk to Callie.

But on my way out, I pass through the family and friends lounge and realize that she hasn’t left the arena yet. She’s pacing the room, biting her fingernails as she scuffs her sneakers against the floor. Her face is puffy, her eyes red.

I sigh.Shit.

Her head snaps up at the quiet sound, and a choked noise falls from her mouth. She rushes up to me, nearly tackling me with a hug around the waist.

“Are you alright?” she murmurs into my chest.

“Peachy,” I say, but I can’t muster a laugh. I brush a hand over the back of her head.

She pulls back, gasps again, and rises up onto her tiptoes. For a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me, but she isn’t looking at my lips. She grazes a finger over my left eyebrow, and I wince.

“You’re hurt.” Her voice trembles, and I pull her back into my arms.

“You should see the other guy,” I tell her. She lets out a watery laugh against my shirt, and I hold her a little tighter. “Don’t cry, Firefly. Everything’s alright. Let’s just go home, yeah?”

“Okay.”

We walk to the parking lot, not saying much on the way. I hold her hand, and she squeezes mine back.

The drive back to my house is equally quiet. I don’t know what to say to her, and I can tell she’s still holding back tears. I didn’t realize this would upset her so much. Obviously, I should have, but I couldn’t think in that moment. When I saw that sleazebag’s hand on her…

I clench the steering wheel and hold my breath until it feels like a blood vessel might pop.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. We sit until the lights go off, and then Callie unbuckles and gets out of the car. I follow on her heels, and once we’re both in the house, she grabs me by the shoulders, steers me into the kitchen, and sits me down on a chair.

“At least take me out for dinner first,” I joke, but neither of us laugh.

She disappears upstairs for a moment, then comes back down with a first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding a little bit.” She puts some disinfectant on a cotton ball and dabs it against the cut on my eyebrow. I flinch from the sting, and she chuckles. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I took the punch, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did.” Her expression is pensive as she uses a clean cotton ball to wipe away some of the blood. “Did you get into trouble for the fight?”

“Suspended for three games. And I’ll have to pay a fine too.”

Hearing the punishment come out of my mouth makes it sound suddenly far more real than when Dunaway said it. My stomach plummets.

“Reese,” Callie says with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” I push some of her hair aside, and she moves her gaze away from the cut on my eyebrow. Her pupils are dilated, her eyes glistening. Shit, did I really worry her that much? “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m still sorry.”

I wince again when she dabs the cut one last time. It stings like hell.

“I guess that’s what I get for getting punched,” I mutter as she rummages around in the first aid kit again.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, I definitely didn’t mean to let him punch me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She grabs a Band-Aid and applies it with such gentle fingers that it makes my chest ache. “You shouldn’t have started that fight in the first place.”

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