Hard Feelings by K.M. Galvin

One

Isigh as the last bell of the day rings; the weight around my shoulders lessens as the tension I typically carry around all day disappears. I made it through the first month of senior year without any major incidents.

It’s Labor Day weekend, and the town will be buzzing with vacationers from the city, looking to relax at our lake.

And more importantly, I, Glory Purcell, will get three whole days away from this place.

You know that scene from Heathers where Veronica is walking down the hallway and runs into Heather Duke, covered in soot, looking like shit, talking about how she just got back from hell?

That’s how I feel every time I leave this place, like I’ve been through hell.

I can feel in my bones that this year will be different. Thanks to my soccer career here, I already have early acceptance to the University of California in Los Angeles. All I have to do is maintain my GPA, and I’ll be far away from this shit town.

Galway, Georgia, seemed like a small slice of heaven when my family moved here from Atlanta when I was five. Even then, I recognized how special and beautiful this place was.

The green forests, glassy lake, and winding roads at the bottom of the Blue Ridge Mountains conjured all kinds of daydreams.

But the best thing—and the worst—was meeting the King family. Sebastian, Elizabeth, and their son, Killian, became the beginning and end of my family here in Galway.

As for Killian and me, it was like discovering a piece of myself I had been missing my whole life. Soul mates didn’t have to be romantic, which certainly wasn’t the case when my gray eyes locked on his bright hazel eyes.

“Fire and ice,” our mothers used to joke.

Killian was all passionate emotion, whereas I was cold calculation. I took my time on things, weighing all options. Killian used to call me Glory the Sloth while he ran full tilt into everything.

Of course, all this changed. I soon became an open wound that this town poured salt in over and over. I wore anger as embittered armor, lashing out at everyone. Especially those who loved me and always, always at Killian.

Killian, who became everything to me—my brother, my best friend, my champion, and my protector. No one believed in me more, and no one loved me better.

He was the best thing to ever happen to me—until he became the worst.

My mother and his father’s affair shook the foundation of Galway. In a town this small, something like that is about as destructive as a bomb going off. People choose sides, and no one chose the Purcell’s, not when the King family essentially employed over half the town.

That, and women always bear the consequences of men’s choices.

Everything changed when they both left, leaving two families destroyed in their wake and a sleepy town drunk with scandal. At thirteen, it seemed like my world was ending.

My father lost his job at the King Family Farms; apparently, he now had a conflict of interest and couldn’t be trusted to do their books. He had to turn to freelance as a CPA, essentially only getting hired during tax season. It always baffled me that people would spit in front of us on the streets but come knocking on our doors when they needed something.

Hatred is a fickle thing.

It meant, as soon as I could, I would have to get a job to help make ends meet. Babysitting was out of the option, as mothers would look down their noses at the thought of leaving their kids around a home-wrecker’s daughter.

Or more likely, their husbands, as if the problem were the teenage girl, not the idea that your grown husband would try something with a minor.

My mother had done more than destroy our family. She’d tacked a scarlet letter onto the daughter she left behind.

Elizabeth King, the one person in the world who should have hated the sight of me, was the only one who gave me a job. I helped her out at home with the cleaning, cooking, and other errands while she took on the entire operation of the farm herself.

She refused to let it go under even if that meant accepting help from the daughter of the woman who had stolen her husband.

Elizabeth is a complicated woman, but she’s a fair one in the end.

King Family Farms actually comes from Elizabeth’s side of the family. As in Sebastian took her name when they married. That was the OG scandal in Galway before Sebastian and my mom decided to unleash their selfishness on the entire town.

Her parents were old money, as in old, old.

Growing up here, you can’t escape the King family history. Their influence is stamped on the names of shops, streets, and even the elementary school. Luckily, they’ve used their influence for good, which is why it was so newsworthy for this esteemed family to get taken down a peg.

There is little the public loves more than cracks in the foundation of an esteemed house.

Killian used to complain about the pressure he felt, having to live up to his family name. He would buck up against his family’s reputation, causing trouble but still toeing the line.

As much as he hates having the road mapped for him, however many detours he might try to make, Killian will always end up with his family.

On the other hand, I have no idea what I want to do besides play soccer, but for the next eight months, I just have to focus on graduating and socking away any extra money I have. I’ll always be thankful to Elizabeth for not holding a grudge against me because my dad and I truly need the money.

Housecleaning for Elizabeth has put food in our fridge and a burden on my shoulders. Between being the varsity girls’ soccer team captain and the emotional float my father uses to stay above drowning, I am beyond ready to run. Run so far away that this place will be a distant nightmare.

California seems far enough.

Out of reach.

Beyond his grasp.

Because the day his father left became the day Killian King’s love turned to hate. I look exactly like my mother. I have the same fine-boned features with gray eyes, a small nose, and a soft, wide mouth belying a sharp tongue. I’m a mini Caroline Purcell.

Around the same time my mother left, I went through puberty, which in itself was traumatic. I had to ask my father for pads and tampons, crying as I hugged a hot water bottle to me from the pain of my cramps and, Lord … the migraines.

I get vestibular migraines, meaning I get intense vertigo and dizziness along with the debilitating pain. It’s part of the reason I rarely drive. Our health insurance barely covers the shots I take when I’m having an episode, but I do a good job of avoiding my triggers.

Which, unfortunately, are wide and varied. Menstruation, dehydration, stress, dairy, alcohol, and even the freaking weather can set me off. Luckily, they don’t come often enough to qualify me for a disability, but when they do come, I’m completely debilitated.

It’s one of the first major things in my life that Killian doesn’t know about. I don’t know why I get so hung up on that, but I do. Sometimes, when I’m trying hard not to cry from the pain because that will only make it worse, my will crumbles, and I end up wanting to call him and tell him to come over. I hate feeling so vulnerable without my best friend to protect me. In the end, I suffer alone, and when the pain passes, bitterness comes. A bitterness because I’m unable to make that call and have Killian comfort me.

My dad does what he can, essentially changing how we eat and helping to create a whole routine for me when I’m having an episode. Cassidy, my other best friend, supports me the best way she can in those moments by just being there and ensuring I’ve always got water or a sports drink handy if I start to feel something coming on.

She even carries an extra shot for me when we go to away games or tournaments, just in case I go down fast. Even still, in those moments, surrounded by people who love me, I want Killian.

But losing your best friend is a special kind of agony that we’re seemingly always unprepared for.

I think, growing up, we know romantic partners come and go. There are movies, books, and songs dedicated to describing that feeling and showing the ways we can process that loss, but for some reason, there’s very little discussed about the loss of friendship. It’s always worse to lose someone you chose as family, who loves you without obligation but simply because you are yourself.

And it decimated me.

I’m forever changed by his and my mother’s abandonment, and as much as I wish I didn’t still care, I do. Love is not a faucet you just turn off, no matter how much I wish I could.

“What’s up, Glory Hole?” Sean Courtland sneers as he bumps me from behind, nearly knocking me to the ground.

“Back the hell off, knuckle dragger,” Cassidy snarls as she comes up beside me, shoving Sean in the process.

Cassidy is the only reason I haven’t run away already. She’s my confidant, and the best striker this school has ever seen. Cassidy is infamous at this school and nearly untouchable, thanks to her twin brother, Tanner who was beyond overprotective.

Both have riotous red hair. Cassidy’s falls nearly to her hips, making her look like an exotic mermaid with bright green eyes, a curvy body, and a sultry face. Anyone would easily drown for her and do it happily.

If only she didn’t hate every single person at this school.

Her brother, Tanner, is her masculine counterpart, his hair several shades deeper than her copper. They are both tall for their age—Cassidy topping five-ten, Tanner taller at six-one and still growing. They are like two pillars of flames and the only people who care about me at this school.

It is a major point of contention between Killian and the twins, considering Tanner is his best friend.

Unlike Killian and the rest of this fucked up town, they didn’t blame me for having the misfortune of being my mother’s daughter.

“I hate that they call you that,” Cassidy growls under her breath, looping her arm through mine, and begins walking toward our lockers.

“You can blame Killian for that one,” I mutter, all earlier optimism dashed completely.

I have the unfortunate luck of being named Glory, which, of course, reminds teenage boys far and wide of the term glory hole. Something thirteen-year-old Killian thought would be hilarious to call out at the homecoming game while I carried drinks for Cassidy and me up to our spot in the bleachers.

We were freshmen, so while boys were disgusting and obsessed with sex, everything about it grossed me out, and I loathed anything remotely referring to sex and me because of what had happened with my mother.

The immediate laughter from the entire football team made me rush up the stairs to get away, miss a step, and trip, spilling both drinks on Mr. Cadle, the principal.

Just thinking about it gives me secondhand embarrassment for my younger self.

My mother said she named me Glory because I was her crowning glory when I was born. Naturally, it spawned all kinds of hellish nicknames. My first acne breakout? Gore-y. The one and only time I went on a date? Whore-y. And there was Glory Hole—we can’t forget that one.

At least they were original.

After everything went down, the worst thing I could imagine was being the center of attention, and in the years that followed, Killian, intentionally or not, went out of his way to make sure I was the very center of his in the worst way.

Glory Hole. It doesn’t even faze me anymore.

I open my locker and throw my bag inside before slamming the door shut, the sound echoing off the nearly empty halls.

“Jeez, Glo, who pissed you off this fine day?” Tanner chuckles as he comes up behind me.

Cassidy and Tanner have lockers next to me, thanks to their last name being Putnam.

“Tanner, can you speak to your troll of a best friend and tell him to lay off? It’s senior year. He’ll never have to see me again soon enough.” I bat my eyelashes at him playfully.

Tanner groans. “Please, I do not want to get in the middle of your war, Glory. Besides, you are a topic completely off the table for him.”

“Weird since he can’t seem to keep my name out of his mouth,” I grumble, giving his side a squeeze in understanding.

“And what a mouth it is,” Cassidy sighs.

I grumble loudly because, despite all the boiling rage lingering under my skin at the mere mention of Killian, I have to agree that he’s … incredible to look at.

Dammit.

It seems fate wants to punish me—sins of the mother and all that since Purcell women can’t seem to help being attracted to King men.

Killian looks like no seventeen-year-old I’ve ever seen unless they’re popping steroids like Tic Tacs. He’s topping six foot five and likely still growing—his incredible height a gift from his father.

I remember Elizabeth massaging his legs to help with the pain because of how fast he grew. When we were eight, there was a brief moment when I was taller than him.

That lasted all of a minute.

I’m still bitter about my average height when all my friends—and enemy—are giants. The last thing I want is for him to look down on me, literally and figuratively.

His wavy, thick black hair is styled in an undercut that makes girls go nuts, especially when some of it falls into his eyes.

Not me, mind you. I would jump at the chance to shave him bald.

Add that to a body that spends most of its time in the gym and bright hazel eyes that burn through you, and Killian King is almost otherworldly.

I fucking hate it.

Give him a humpback or a giant wart, something!

Cassidy and I wave her brother off as we head into the girls’ locker room. Shoving my backpack into my gym locker, I grab my practice uniform and get dressed quickly. Standing in front of a mirror, I wrap my long hair into a tight ponytail and give it a good glare.

There have been so many times I’ve been tempted to cut it all off or dye it. Anything to ruin what Killian used to love, but I just can’t.

Maybe, one day, he’ll do something so terrible that he kills off everything I have left for him, but until then, I hold on to the memory of me whispering my dreams while he played with my hair.

I’m a masochistic idiot.

“Come on, Glo. We know you’re hot. Let’s get a move on.” Cassidy slaps my ass as she heads out with the rest of our team. “And don’t forget your sunscreen!”

Rolling my eyes, I spray myself down with SPF 30. She’s such a mom. With Killian and my mom gone, Cassidy has appointed herself my keeper, becoming hypervigilant about my health.

I love her to death, but I wish she’d chill.

Running out onto the field, I breathe in the cool air. Summer is just beginning to end, but already, it feels cooler. Fall arrives earlier in the mountains.

It’s my favorite time to play.

The air chills my skin, so every hit from the ball stings. It’s weird to love the burn, but it makes me feel alive.

It also means football is in full swing, so Killian is kept busy. Idle hands are the devil’s tools, and a bored Killian makes for a creative tormentor.

“Girls, four laps around the field and maintain an easy pace because you’re going straight into wind sprints.” Coach Yi blows her whistle, and we all start our lope around the field.

I watch the sun start to dip behind the mountains as we run. It’s beautiful here, especially in this season. It’s probably the only reason I’m going to miss this place. Well, besides my dad.

But I’m out of here right after graduation, and Killian knows it. UCLA’s soccer camp starts in the beginning of June, so it will be a fuck you later to everyone, but my dad, Cassidy, and Tanner.

The next half hour goes quickly as we run through drills and warm our muscles. Then, Coach blows her whistle and points to the weight room.

Groaning, I grab my water and catch up with Cassidy.

“I don’t know how she expects us to do weights after that freaking run she had us do over the weekend. My quads are shredded,” I murmur, hiking my knees up high to stretch them a little.

“You’d better be careful before you tear something. You’re already doing two-a-days like some female Terminator.” Cassidy glances at me, concerned.

“Spot me?” I ask as we enter the huge weight room, ignoring her completely.

“Glory, I’m serious. You do not want an injury with your scholarship hanging in the balance.” Cassidy grips my arm, but I shake her off.

“I’m fine. Trust me, I will not screw up the opportunity to put an entire country between Killian and me.”

“An entire country, Glo? Seems excessive,” a low voice murmurs from behind me.

I don’t need to turn to see who it is; his voice is as familiar to me as my own.

“Killian, death wouldn’t be far enough away from you,” I growl before staring pointedly at my best friend while making my way over to the bench press.

He chuckles as he walks away, and I refocus as I lie down on the bench.

Ignoring all the hard bodies around me, I count my reps out loud while Cassidy stands above me, hands at the ready should my muscles quit.

This is the only part of my practice that I can’t stand. The ten-minute overlap where the girls’ soccer team and the football team share the weight room before they head out for the rest of their practice.

During our seasons, it’s really the only time I see Killian, and he’s usually too focused on his workout to pull any of his shit.

I get off the bench, using the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face, and switch places with Cassidy.

The sounds of weights clanging, laughter from the guys as they finish up, and the pumping of the radio fade as I get lost in the repetitive motion of Cassidy lifting and lowering the weight bar.

It’s why, when I hear cursing, followed by the loud sound of glass breaking, I jolt so hard that I nearly cause Cassidy to drop the bar on herself.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, Cassidy.” I wince, but she waves me off, eyes on the commotion.

Killian has Morris Felts by the throat, slammed against the wall, and the look on Killian’s face as he leans close, whispering something in Morris’s ear, has my heart pounding.

“Glory—” Cassidy whispers from behind me, and I shake my head, grabbing her arm to keep her quiet.

Tanner jumps over a weight bench and latches on to Killian’s arm. “Let him go, bro. You want to fuck up your last season because some mouthy sophomore pissed you off?”

Killian’s response is to only squeeze tighter. Morris lets out a choked gasp, and when his face turns an alarming shade of red, I step forward.

The second I move, Killian’s eyes flick to me, and I see that his pupils are completely blown. He looks scary and psychotic, and what the fuck am I doing?

“Kills,” I call softly, purposely using my childhood nickname for him, “let him go.”

He doesn’t move, so I eye Tanner, nodding slightly to the door, and Tanner jumps into action, getting everyone out of the room with a sharp warning that he’ll get anyone who talks kicked off the team.

“Cassidy, leave,” I tell her firmly as I move closer to the bomb that’s seconds from going off.

“Absolutely not. Do you expect me to leave you with Hulk Smash over there? Hell to the no,” Cassidy scoffs.

“Cassidy!” Tanner barks from the door and stares his twin down until she sighs loudly and moves toward her brother, stopping briefly next to Killian. “You harm a hair on her head, and I’ll cut your dick off.”

My lips twitch with barely contained laughter, and Killian’s gaze tracks the movement, his eyes finally showing a little life behind them.

“Is this who you are now? Violent? Scary?”

I move closer to him, noticing his grip loosen enough for Morris to slip away. And he does instantly, leaving me with the loose cannon.

“You don’t know what he said,” Killian says quietly, rage coloring his words.

I laugh, crossing my arms. “And what could he have said that would warrant your reaction?”

Killian’s brow lowers as his lips curl in disgust. “He said, despite you being a diseased slut, like your mother, at least he could go raw in your ass without fear of his dick falling off.”

If this were a few years ago—hell, if this were a couple months ago—I’d have gotten upset, but the comment rolls right off me. “Well, it seems someone missed Health class because you can still get STIs from anal sex.”

Killian crosses his arms over his massive chest, causing his biceps to bulge. “That’s all you have to say?”

I roll my eyes and grab my water bottle. “I don’t understand, Killian. Isn’t that what you want? I mean, if we’re comparing the things that have been said to me or about me, my father, or my mother, today has been a walk in the park.”

“What?” he barks, body going rigid.

I laugh coldly, eyeing him skeptically. “You can’t treat me like the town pariah, practically labeling me trash, and not expect everyone else to fall in line. You’re Killian King, prince of Galway, and I’m just the daughter of the home-wrecker who broke up your family.”

I ram my shoulder into him as I pass on my way out. “Don’t be so shocked, Kills,” I say mockingly. “I’m paying every fucking day for our parents’ mistake while you ruin my entire high school experience, but don’t worry; you won’t have to deal with my filth for much longer. Graduation will be the best day of my life because I’ll never have to see you or this backwoods town again.”

I slam the door closed behind me and find Cassidy and Tanner standing there, waiting.

“Go get your boy,” I sigh.

Tanner shoves the door open and disappears inside.

“You okay?” Cassidy asks, chewing her lip as she studies me worriedly.

“Fine.” I roll my shoulders and step beside her as we head back to the locker room. “He’s just mad that other people are playing with his food.”

“And you’re the food?”

I shrug. “Morris is new and doesn’t know how this place works.”

“It’s really fucking weird that Killian thinks he’s the only one who can treat you like shit.”

“People are afraid of him”—I point behind me toward the weight room—“with apparent good reason, but just because they don’t say shit in front of him doesn’t mean they don’t run their mouths behind his back.”

“Well, he knows now.” Cassidy grimaces.

“I don’t see why he would care. He literally created this entire environment.”

Cassidy loops her arm through mine. “Girl, he lives in another dimension, where he is the only injured party, and with his dad not here and his mom an emotional wreck, he has no one else to take his pain out on.”

“He’s a bully—simple. I’m done taking his shit. Go to fucking therapy or talk to Tanner. Stop being a selfish asshole. My life changed that day too.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hugs me to her side, and I suck in a hard breath, annoyed at the burn behind my eyes.

I haven’t cried over Killian King in years, and I won’t now.

“It is what it is—at least for now. In a couple of months, I’ll never have to see him again.”

I don’t know if I will ever stop being angry with him and my mother. The thought that I’ll have to live with this pain and anger frustrates me more than anything they’ve ever done to me. At least with my mother, we knew why she was leaving. But Killian …

Cutting me off without a word, refusing to talk to me, even look at me unless it was to spew vitriol my way … it hurt more than I can put into words.

I had gone almost my entire life telling him everything, sharing all of me with him, to nothing overnight. Killian was such an intrinsic part of me that, even to this day, if something happens, I’m reaching for my phone to tell him before I know what I’m doing.

There are days I’ve found myself running up his drive without even thinking. Cooking larger dinners to account for how much his bottomless stomach could consume. Setting the DVR to record his shows. So many things I did instinctually that I have to rewire now.

And the fucking shame. Not only for being related to someone who helped blow up our families—his father is just as much to blame—but the shame I feel every time I allow myself to miss him when he’s terrible to me.

It’s wedged so deep in me that I don’t know if I’ll ever share that much of myself with another person. Even Cassidy. I’m constantly muting myself or avoiding arguments, afraid that if I say or do the wrong thing, Cassidy will leave too.

I walk around on eggshells constantly.

I know it’s not going to happen. I argue with myself about it all the time. Cassidy sees it, and she gives me a lot of grace, but I know it can get annoying to reassure me we’re okay.

The fear of abandonment is so much more paralyzing because you find you’re a puppet to the fear. Doing anything to appease it or just giving in and pushing people away before they get the chance to leave.

Cassidy tugs on my hair to get my attention.

Shaking it off, I turn to her and give her what I hope is a convincing smile. Judging by the concern in her eyes, I’ve failed.

“I’m okay, Cassidy,” I say softly, turning away so she doesn’t know it’s a lie.

“Eight more months, Glo. You got this.” Giving my hair one last tug, she swings her arm around my shoulders, and we head back to the locker room.