“Who did this to you?”
She grits her jaw when it trembles again, and I wish I had it in me to lie to her. “Noah’s dad showed up at practice.”
I watch her digest the words. Watch the crinkle of confusion in her forehead smooth out, her mouth open over a syllable, but it takes her a couple of tries to get it out.
“Noah?”
“He’s fine.”
She nods. Over and over again, like she’s letting it all sink in. And then she turns on her heel and charges out of the kitchen.
“Hey—where are you going?” I hurry after her, catching her around the waist.
“I’m going to give Mike Irving what he has coming to him—” I tuck her back into me and she starts to fight it, struggling to wrestle out of my hold. “Let go of me!”
I double my grip. “He’s not in a state to get a piece of your mind—”
“A piece of my mind?” she shouts, thrashing wildly in my arms, her hair flying everywhere. “I’m giving him a piece of my fist—let me go!”
I can’t help it. The whole scene is so debilitatingly sweet that I laugh. And then immediately recognize my mistake when she starts to struggle even harder.
“How are you laughing right now? Get off me—let me do this—”
I pull her back into the kitchen as she drags her feet and then hoist her to sit on the counter. When she tries to duck around me, I plant my hands on her hips, holding her in place.
“Why are you so calm?” she demands, face contorted in fury. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I think you’ve got the anger quota filled.” I cup her cheek, running my thumb over her eyebrow to smooth it.
“People don’t get to go around hurting you with impunity—I swear to God, I willkillhim—tear him apart, limb by limb until there’s nothing left—”
“That’s a lot of rage contained in someone so small.”
She hits me with a withering look. “He’s been terrorizing Noah for God knows how long—heattackedyou—let me go knock some sense into him—”
I lift her arm so that her tiny fist sits between us. “With this thing?”
“What’s wrong with my fist?”
I shake her arm and her fist rattles loosely between us. “Clo, you lost a standoff against a chipmunk. You think I’d let you face off against a drunk, angry bull?”
“We’re not supposed to mention the chipmunk incident!” She scowls, taking back her arm. “At least tell me he got arrested.”
“Noah didn’t want that.”
“And what stops him from crashing another practice?”
“Security’s involved now. They’ll be at all our practices going forward. And we fly out for a game tomorrow, so hopefully he cools off by the time we’re back.”
I smooth her hair where it got tousled in our scuffle, and after a while she starts to thaw. Mel eyes the side of my face, reaching to gently stroke above my eyebrow.
“Does it hurt?”
“The humiliation of going down on a couple of sucker punches hurts more than anything. Other than that, I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
She sighs, settling her hand on the nape of my neck. “You’ve never been a fighter.”
“No, I’m not.”