Hard Feelings by K.M. Galvin

Three

The adrenaline from last night’s bravado made it difficult to sleep, so I’m up before the sun to go for a run before our scrimmage this afternoon.

Listen, I know it’s stupid to do workouts outside the ones scheduled with the team or the conditioning assignments our coach gives us, but the only time I ever feel in control is when my feet pound the pavement.

James Purcell is a deep sleeper, so the chances of a lecture this morning are slim, but just in case, I program the coffeemaker to have a fresh pot ready an hour from now. It should give me plenty of time to get back before the dad beast awakens.

Stepping out onto our deck, I sit on the stairs and tie my sneakers, glaring across the lake. I hate that I can see Killian’s house from mine. I hate that it sits up on that hill, looking down at me, sneering probably, if a house had the ability to show expression.

Rolling my eyes at my ridiculous thoughts, I roughly rub my legs, warming them up before getting up and setting off.

It’s a familiar route, one I’ve taken for a decade. It used to be the path I’d take to Killian’s for sleepovers, movie nights, and birthday parties. When my parents fought. When the silence said more than the screaming.

When I just needed to see him.

Now, I take it purposely to remind myself that I don’t care how he treats me, that his loss of friendship doesn’t haunt me, and in the hopes that if he sees me running by, Killian will see how unaffected I am.

My feet barely make any sound as I race over the soft ground. I could run this route with my eyes closed and never hit a tree. I know every inch of this forest, so when a large black blur sprints by in my periphery, I pick up my pace and tear through Killian’s backyard, nearing the road.

My breath escapes me in terrified gasps as thoughts of wild animals chasing me down run through my mind. I should yell for Killian, anyone, but some insane part of me thinks that if I can reach the road, I’ll be fine.

My heart pounds as the dense woods start to thin, and I glance behind me when I slam into something, landing hard and choking as the wind is knocked out of me.

“What the fuck?!” A growl vibrates underneath me, and it’s only then I realize I’m sprawled on top of Killian.

Rolling off him, I cough and blink at the sky, trying to catch my breath.

“Glo—”

“Stop calling me that,” I wheeze, wincing as I sit up and take stock of my body, rolling my ankles and bending my knees. I feel okay—thank God.

Killian hops to his feet with way more agility than a guy his size should have and offers me a hand.

Snorting in disbelief, I push myself to my feet, brushing pine needles and dirt from my bare legs.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he pants, staring down at me.

Tightening my ponytail, I notice he’s also in running gear … if you can count loose black basketball shorts and sneakers running gear.

His wide chest shines with sweat, glinting off tight pecs and abs as he inhales and exhales, slowly getting his breath back.

“What does it look like, genius?” I shoot back.

“It looks like you’re trying to be a wolf’s next meal,” he says with a smile—or I guess it’s more baring his teeth than a smile.

When he looks down at me like this, black hair falling into his eyes, it’s more likely he’ll take a bite out of me than a wolf.

“Speaking of … I think there was some kind of animal following me.” I bite my lip, looking around warily.

Killian considers me with hooded eyes. “Animal, huh? Sure it’s not just your imagination?”

My eyes narrow at the thinly veiled humor in his voice. “You’re right. The only animal out here is you.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “What are you doing, running in my woods, Glory?”

“Your woods? You own the whole forest, Killian?” I lean over to retie my shoes, stretching my knees to my chest as I try to look more casual than I feel. “Listen, just pretend you didn’t see me. Should be easy. I haven’t existed to you in years.”

I mentally slap myself the second the bitterness leaves my lips.

So much for proving I don’t care about him.

Not waiting for a reply, I take off and try to forget his face when I said it, but the look of anger and regret stays in my mind for the rest of my run.

I arrive at our practice field thirty minutes before kickoff. It’s a friendly scrimmage with the neighboring school’s girls’ team, but the rules are tighter during these games. No slide tackling and absolutely zero tolerance for any illegal blocking. The last thing either coach wants is for a player to get injured.

Spotting Cassidy’s Jeep, I walk my bike over and dump it in the back, knowing she’ll give me a ride back to my house. Turning, I face the park containing four fields, and it’s then I notice the football team.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath.

Before our parents decided to implode our lives and leave me to deal with the aftermath, Killian used to be in the stands at every game, cheering me on. He was always the loudest, louder than even my own family.

It was the same for me.

Nothing in the world could separate us, nothing stronger than the support we gave each other.

I try not to notice his absence or my mom’s, but the sound of my father’s voice, now the only one in the stands, is like seeing lightning without the thunder.

Hitching my bag higher onto my shoulder. I cross the field, refusing to acknowledge the football team as I catch up to where Cassidy is already waiting for me.

She meets me halfway and grabs my hand. All bravado from last night is gone. I need my best friend, and she clearly recognizes that. I don’t ever have to say a thing; she always knows.

“Don’t let this get in your head, Glory,” Cassidy says quietly as I set my bag down and drop to the ground to slip off my Nike slides and put on my turf shoes.

“It’s a practice game, Cassidy,” I say quietly, yanking my laces tight.

“Just making sure you remember that,” Cassidy jokes as she yanks me back up beside her once I’m set. “Besides, the twat is in attendance.”

Throwing her arm around my shoulders, Cassidy nods her head to the annoyingly perky blonde ponytail bouncing across the field as she throws herself into Killian’s arms.

Curling my lip, I zip up my bag and stow it under the bleachers. “Like I give a shit.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Glo; it’s the fucking target Killian painted on your back for his fan club.”

Britney Watts goes to a private school about thirty minutes away. Unfortunately, the school, Covington Prep, has a long-standing agreement to scrimmage us on Labor Day weekend every year.

Our teams don’t play each other in the regular season, and our coaches decided more exposure could only improve the teams. While Britney doesn’t go here, money attracts money, so she and Killian run in the same circles.

Unsurprisingly, as a result, she hates my guts by osmosis and makes it a freaking point to come at me every year.

Having Killian here is only going to amp shit up.

“You should ask Coach to switch your position, so you can get practice elsewhere and avoid Backwoods Barbie over there.”

Yanking my socks over my shin pads, I tell Cassidy blandly, “I’m not running away from her.”

Her giggles travel across the field, and I find myself glancing their way against my better judgment.

Killian’s doing that hot football player thing, where he doesn’t wear a shirt so it’s miles of tanned muscles in stark contrast to the white of his pads while his black football pants hang on his hips. He looks indecent, like he should be on the cover of every romance book.

Asshole.

As if he heard me across the field, his eyes flick to mine, and the mothereffer smirks.

Narrowing my eyes, I mouth, Fuck off, which makes him laugh.

Britney’s green eyes track where Killian’s attention went and attempt to eviscerate me from across the field.

“If she pulls one illegal move today, I’m taking her out,” Cassidy mutters as we join the rest of the team for a brief warm-up.

I slap my hand against Cassidy’s in agreement.

“She can pull whatever she wants; I’m not feeding into it. Not with UCLA hanging in the balance.”

Nothing—not some imaginary grudge this girl thinks she has with me, not my father, not Killian, nothing—is going to stop me from getting the hell out of this town.

I want to be somewhere that isn’t a constant reminder of Killian and my mother everywhere I turn. I crave anonymity, a fresh start.

Coach blows her whistle, startling me, and waves us over.

Stretching my arms behind my back, I walk over to huddle up with the rest of the team.

Coach grabs her clipboard and starts calling out positions. I tune her out until I hear, “Purcell, center midfield, but I won’t hesitate to pull you if I see even an ounce of overexertion. Don’t think I don’t know what you do in the mornings and on the weekends. I’m not about to lose my captain to an injury before the season starts.”

Groaning, I keep my eyes on the ground. I would bet my life my dad called Coach. “You don’t need to worry about that anymore,” I promise her.

“Hmm.” She looks at me skeptically, and I can’t really blame her, but I mean it. I can already feel my shins aching; I know it’s time to back off.

“You know the rules; keep it clean, and remember, this is a scrimmage. I’d better not see any slide tackling or roughing anyone up. Any of that, and you will immediately sit out the first two games. The same goes for Covington.”

Coach blows her whistle again, asking us to get into position, and I smack Cassidy’s butt as I run onto the field behind her. Normally, we do a coin toss to determine initial possession of the ball, but Coach always lets Covington go first.

I don’t really care who goes first; it’s not going to make the ball go in our net. Their center forward moves fast, opting to try and go down the side of the field as their midfielders sprint past.

Midfielders are typically the fastest and do the most running. We have possession of the ball the most, so we have to be. Cassidy says I’m so good because I have such a low center of gravity since I’m so short.

She’s hilarious.

I hang back, knowing my defense is about two seconds from stealing that back and booting it far down the field. They’ve got cannons for legs, and they can easily send a ball flying the entire length of the field.

My chest warms as the fun of the game and pride in my teammates fill me. Fine, maybe I’ll miss some things when I leave.

“Glory!” Stacey, our center defender, calls out, grabbing my attention as she rockets a pass my way.

I hold on to it easily, Cassidy keeping pace in front of me, providing cover, but even still, I’m nearly knocked off my feet when a bony-ass elbow digs into my stomach.

Fucking Britney.

Shoving my weight to my left, I knock her back far enough to give the ball some air toward Cassidy, who is in position and does a header right into the net. The satisfying whoosh of the ball meeting net greets my ears and puts a smile on my face as I turn around to get back in position, passing Britney with a wiggling wave of my fingers.

“Watts! Keep your elbows in, or you’re out!” Covington’s coach yells as we pass her, and I keep my smirk to myself.

“Let’s go, Glory!” I hear someone yell out and grin when I see Marcus sitting in the bleachers with some of the boys’ team.

Smiling, I wave and feel eyes drilling a hole into my back. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Killian. The feel of his attention is as familiar to me as a soccer ball against my feet.

“Why the hell is Marcus here, cheering you on?” Cassidy halts next to me, practically hissing as she eyes him.

“We’re going out tonight.” I try not to laugh as she gasps.

“Glory, what?!” she yells, but before I can respond, a chorus of whistles and yells erupts from the field next to us, drawing our attention.

Killian is helmet to helmet with another player, muscles swelling with aggression, and I can practically feel the rage in the air.

The football coaches rush to the players and back them up away from each other. What Killian’s coach says has him looking right over to me, and that hot glare connecting with mine has chills racing down my back.

I know there’s a phrase about someone walking on your grave, and I never understood it until now. Killian looks like he wants to put me six feet under.

“Why can’t you leave him alone, trash?” Britney snarls at me, redirecting my attention.

“I’m not doing anything.” I roll my eyes, genuinely confused about how she thinks any of that has to do with me.

The football team is a bunch of raging testosterone and privilege—that combo makes those idiots do all kinds of stupid shit.

“Back off, Watts.” Cassidy takes her position, blocking Britney from my view, and I glance back over at Killian, who’s now sitting on our bench instead of his team’s, mile-long legs spread out before him, arms crossed over his massive chest, looking not unlike some lazy-ass king.

Ha! King Joffrey Baratheon maybe.

“Head in the game, Purcell!” my coach yells, and no sooner is she done with that sentence than something slams into me, knocking me clear off my feet.

If the blinding pain in my side is any indication, I landed wrong.

I gasp in short spurts, trying not to panic when I find it difficult to draw breath easily. I can hear Cassidy yelling something as I squint up at the sky. It’s too bright. I can’t see anything. I can’t feel anything.

God, please don’t let anything be broken.

My hands grasp at the grass, tugging, pulling it out, anything to try and ground myself so I can take a deep breath.

Killian’s head appears above mine, worry marring his brow as he places his giant hand on my chest. The pressure of his hand and his sudden appearance momentarily shock me out of my panic, and I’m able to breathe deeply, albeit painfully.

Cassidy is there the next instant, shoving him away from me. “Do you see now, you fucking asshole? Get away from her.”

“Cassidy …” I whisper, half admonishing and half in pure terror that I’ve hurt myself.

Coach is there next, ordering everyone to back off as she runs through an injury check. I wince when she gets to my ribs and watch nervously as her brow furrows.

“That hurt?” she asks, and I nod slightly, wincing again as she probes my left side. “Okay, it doesn’t feel broken, but we need to get you to urgent care to make sure. You’ll probably have to get them X-rayed.”

I’m already shaking my head before she finishes. “I have shitty insurance, and there’s no way we can pay for that. If you don’t think they’re broken, I’ll just ice, wrap them up, and be careful.”

“Sorry, kiddo, school policy.”

“I’ll take her.” Killian’s growl cuts through everything, and I look to find him pacing back and forth a few feet away from me.

“No way,” I protest immediately.

“I can take you, Glo,” Marcus says from his place next to Cassidy, earning himself a death glare from the Grim Reaper pacing behind him.

“How about you all get a grip? She’s my best friend, so I’ll be taking her,” Cassidy says pointedly to Killian. “Come on, Glory. Hold your breath and think of UCLA,” she cajoles, and Coach helps me carefully to my feet.

I’m gasping and sweating by the time I’ve got two feet firmly on the ground. “Fine. I’ll go with Cassidy,” I concede, purposefully ignoring Killian.

“I’ll text you later, Glory. Want me to grab your bike out of Cassidy’s car and bring it home?” Marcus offers.

I nod gratefully, trying to suppress a snicker when he presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. He’s laying it on thick, and I love it.

Killian looks like he’s ready to rip Marcus’s head off, and I can’t help but laugh a little, bringing that death glare my way. The whole plan was for Marcus to pretend to be interested in me as more than just friends to piss off Killian. Not that I think Killian would be jealous, but it’s more Marcus and me thumbing our noses at me being labeled persona non grata at this school.

If Cassidy happens to take a second look at Marcus in the process, then all the better, but I told Marcus if she asked me what was up, I’d tell the truth. I don’t lie to my best friend or manipulate her feelings. I also refuse to put her in a position where she’d feel like she was betraying me because I know Cassidy likes Marcus. She just refuses to do anything about it.

Cassidy is so determined not to become her mother—married with kids before twenty—that she’s sworn off any relationships until after college. I get not wanting to follow in your mother’s footsteps, but I also don’t think having a relationship is a one-way street to marriage and children. Not that I’ll say that to her. Cassidy is great at calling me out on my own bullshit, and I’m uninterested in getting my own logic thrown back in my face.

I take a step, but when I start listing to the side, Killian lifts me as if I weighed nothing.

“Lift from your legs, Kills!” I laugh, the pain making me a bit delirious.

“All right, giggles, I texted your dad. He’s going to meet us there.” Cassidy passes us, our bags looped over her shoulders as she heads toward her car.

“I’m gonna catch up with her and grab your bike,” Marcus mutters as he abandons me with the grumpy behemoth.

I close my eyes and do my best to pretend I’m anywhere else right now. Oh, I’ll decorate my dorm room! White bedspread and sheets, easy to bleach in case they get dirty—something my family figured out early on when I would pass out, exhausted after a game or practice, and leave grass stains on my bedding. Thor poster above my desk, for obvious reasons. If I’m going to be distracted while doing schoolwork, it might as well be by those biceps.

“I can feel how hard you’re thinking, Glo,” Killian says quietly.

“Stop calling me that, Killian. Nicknames imply friendship—something you torpedoed with your inability to process trauma.”

“Fucking hell, Glory.” He laughs at my bluntness.

“Ah, yes, your other nemesis. Truth!” I lift my fist to the sky like a dummy, only to cry out in pain immediately. Okay, so no raising fist victoriously.

Killian tightens his hold, bringing me higher up on his chest until my head is level with his. Being this close to him while he is holding me protectively … it’s a lot.

“Don’t pretend like the last few years didn’t happen, Killian,” I whisper brokenly.

“I’m not.” He sighs and rests his head against mine momentarily. “That doesn’t mean I can’t wake the fuck up and realize what a dick I’ve been.”

“I don’t care if you’ve finally realized this. The damage is done, Killian. I don’t want to talk about this, and honestly, it’s really not cool to be pushing this conversation when I’m in pain.”

While I’m weak.

Killian doesn’t say anything else, and I stay silent for the two-minute walk across the parking lot.

Cassidy has her Jeep running and the passenger seat reclined all the way back so I can relax without putting pressure on my ribs.

“Hey, girl, you look a little green.” Cassidy opens the door and watches as Killian sets me down gently, grabbing the seat belt and buckling me in before I get the chance. “Also, don’t worry; Covington’s coach totally saw Britney illegally check you. She’s done. Good-bye to your season, you lunatic.”

“I’m going to handle her,” Killian grunts, running those bright eyes, greener than amber in this light, over my face one last time before closing the passenger door.

“Oh, yeah, protect your little stalker girlfriend,” Cassidy scoffs, shoving Killian away from her car as she moves around to the driver’s side.

Killian glares at Cassidy. “She is not my girlfriend.” He turns back to me. “She’ll pay for this. Every cent. Get me that bill, Glory. I’ll be following up with your dad to make sure.”

“Leave my dad alone, douchebag,” I warn halfheartedly, closing my eyes to fight off nausea.

I feel his hand grip mine tightly for a moment before he tells Cassidy to take care of me.

“Yeah, no shit, twerp. She can always count on me.”

I laugh lightly at her ferocity when it comes to protecting me. “I love you so much, Cassidy Ann Putnam.”

“Right back at ya, cupcake.”