Broken Beautiful Hearts

by Kami Garcia

  Owen moves closer to me. “What’s going on? Peyton, look at me.”

  I shake my head.

  “She’s fine,” Grace says, trying to cover for me.

  “She’s not fine.” Owen reaches for me as if he’s going to pull me into the safety of his arms.

  I want to say I’m fine, even though I’m not. But I can’t speak. If I start talking, I’ll have to interact with Reed, and this nightmare will be real.

  Cam touches my arm. “Let’s go. You don’t need to talk to him.”

  “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Owen asks.

  Reed ignores Owen and looks at me. “It’s not too late to come back.”

  TJ eyes Grace from where he’s standing beside Reed. “And you can bring your friend with you. She’s just my speed.”

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Cam’s voice comes out as a growl, and before TJ has time to make a smart-ass comeback, Cameron tackles him, fists flying.

  Reed smirks and steps out of the way.

  “Cameron!” Grace shouts. “Stop!”

  The ref sees TJ and Cam grappling on the floor and signals a huge man wearing a yellow EVENT SECURITY T-shirt.

  Grace looks at Christian. “Do something!”

  “I wouldn’t,” Billy warns.

  Christian’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “Or what?”

  One fight is bad enough. If Christian and Billy get into it, someone is definitely going to get hurt. But the man working event security shows up before one of them takes a swing.

  TJ and Cam are jockeying for the upper hand, but on the ground TJ has the advantage.

  The security guard grabs TJ by the shoulder and jerks him back as if he weighs nothing. Cam gets back on his feet and goes after TJ again. But the huge guy catches Cameron in a headlock. “You need to cut that shit out unless you wanna get hurt.”

  “Let him go,” Christian says.

  The giant of a man gives Christian a dismissive look. “I’ll let his ass go outside, ’cause they’re both out of here.” He keeps Cam in a headlock as he walks up the aisle, and he shoves TJ forward with his other hand.

  “I’m going to make sure Cam is okay,” Grace says. She rushes up the aisle, and I’m left with Reed and Owen, who look like they want to tear each other apart; Christian and Billy, who are squaring off; and Tucker, who looks like he’s just trying to stay out of their way.

  The ref walks over to the edge of the cage and calls out to Owen and Reed. “You two aren’t supposed to be out here. Get in your corners, unless you both want to be disqualified.”

  I spot Reed’s trainer in the corner opposite Cutter, and he signals Reed.

  “It was fun catching up,” Reed says, looking right at me. “We should do this again after the fight. We can celebrate my championship win.”

  Billy laughs.

  Owen’s posture has turned to stone. He might not know exactly what’s going on, but he knows something is wrong.

  Reed notices Owen staring him down. “Why is he looking at me like I’m the bad guy, Peyton? Let me guess. You told them your little fairy tale about me pushing you down the stairs? Did someone actually believe you?”

  CHAPTER 38

  The Machine

  OWEN DOESN’T MOVE. His gaze darts between Reed and me.

  He’s putting the pieces together.

  Without warning, he lunges at Reed. “Did you hurt her?”

  Christian grabs Owen and drags him away from Reed.

  Owen reaches over Christian’s shoulder and points at Reed. “If you touched her I’ll tear you apart!”

  My whole body is shaking, and I try not to cry. I don’t want to do anything to fuel Owen’s rage. Anger blinds a fighter. It has them fighting their demons instead of their opponent.

  “Get your fighters in their corners!” the ref yells at Cutter and Reed’s trainer.

  Cutter exits the cage, and she’s on the arena floor before Reed’s trainer. She pushes past Reed, bumping his shoulder so hard that he actually moves. He looks impressed.

  She marches up to Owen. “I don’t know what’s going on over here, but you’d better get your ass in that cage right now, or I’ll forfeit.”

  “You can’t do that.” Owen watches Reed over her shoulder.

  “Watch me.”

  Lazarus surveys the scene from behind the rubber-coated chain-link.

  Owen’s eyes flicker to me and Cutter turns in my direction. “Peyton? Are you all right?”

  Tucker slings his arm around my shoulders, like we’re at an eighth grade mixer. He gives Cutter the thumbs up. “She’s good.”

  Reed’s trainer finally makes an appearance. “Michaels! Inside!”

  Reed smiles at me. “We can talk later. This won’t take long.”

  “I’m gonna take you apart in there,” Owen shouts at him.

  Reed starts to walk away, then stops and points at Owen. “Second round. That’s when I’ll knock you out.”

  “Hey.” Cutter snaps her fingers in front of Owen’s face to get his attention. “You better get your head straight before this fight starts.”

  Owen clenches his jaw and watches Reed walk away.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Cutter barks. “You need to focus on the fight in that cage, not the one out here. Do we understand each other? We’ll figure out the rest after you kick his ass.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Owen nods, but he’s still tracking Reed and his body language hasn’t changed. He doesn’t seem focused.

  “Get moving.” Cutter waits until Owen starts walking and she follows him.

  Owen enters the cage and walks to his corner, where Lazarus is waiting. Cutter and Lazarus are both talking to him, but Owen keeps looking over at Reed’s corner, where my ex appears uncharacteristically calm.

  “This isn’t good,” I tell Tucker and Christian.

  “What do you mean?” Christian asks.

  “Reed is acting weird. He’s too calm. Usually, he’s on the offensive from the second he enters the cage. This is the regional championship, and Reed is hanging out in his corner like he’s bored.”

  “Owen will kick his ass,” Tucker says. “Right?”

  After watching Owen in the ring, I wouldn’t have doubted him for a second. But the guy in the cage tonight isn’t the same Owen I’ve watched so many times in the gym. There’s nothing calm and calculated about his expression or his posture. Tonight Owen looks like he’s running on a dangerous mix of rage and adrenaline.

  An announcer enters the cage with a mic and hypes up the crowd.

  I try not to look to the right, where Reed’s team is getting him ready, but the way Reed is behaving worries me. Billy walks around the outside of the octagon and sits in one of the empty seats in the front row, behind Reed’s corner.

  I catch a glimpse of the girl next to him, the pale blond hair she never wears down hangs loose around her face. She has her feet on the seat and her arms wrapped around her legs.

  Tess looks up and she sees me.

  She doesn’t give me a dirty look or turn away. She opens one of her hands as if she’s going to wave at me. Instead she holds it open like she’s pressing it against a window. I hold up my hand, too.

  Billy turns to tell Tess something and she lets her hand fall back to her leg.

  “Who are you waving at?” Christian asks.

  “Nobody.”

  The microphone crackles and the announcer’s voice booms through the arena. “From the nation’s capital, Washington, DC, weighing in at one hundred seventy-nine pounds, Reed ‘The Machine’ Michaels.”

  Reed holds up his hands and the crowd cheers.

  Lazarus rushes over to the announcer and tells him something. The announcer nods and returns to the mic. “And from Knoxville, Tennessee, weighing in at one hundred seventy-two pounds, Owen ‘The Law.’”

  “Why did he say Owen is from Knoxville?” Tucker asks.

  Cutter and Lazarus are watching me.

  “Ma
ybe he just got it wrong,” Christian says.

  No. Lazarus gave the announcer the wrong information on purpose.

  The trainers and cutmen follow the announcer out of the cage.

  The bell rings, signaling the start of round one.

  Owen comes barreling out of his corner, throwing punches, knees, and elbows.

  Reed blocks most of the strikes, and he doesn’t launch the lethal offensive I’m used to witnessing. He’s playing games—letting Owen come after him, blocking punches instead of throwing them, and showboating instead of trying to pound his opponent into the floor.

  Reed hasn’t shut his mouth since the round started. He knows how to psych someone out during a fight. Intimidation is his specialty. What is he saying?

  Round two is a replay of the first round—Owen throwing sloppy combinations, Reed taunting him, and Cutter screaming her lungs out from behind the chain-link. Reed turns up the intensity a minute before the bell—probably trying to make good on his promise to knock Owen out in the second round. Reed throws a jab followed by a right low kick that clips Owen’s leg hard. The knockout doesn’t happen, but Owen is wearing himself out fast.

  Round three and four are a blur of round kicks, slashing elbows, and boxing punches, like hooks and crosses.

  I rub Dad’s dog tags and wince every time Owen gets hit.

  Christian notices. “Don’t be nervous. I think Owen is playing your ex so Reed will underestimate him.”

  “That’s not what he’s doing. I’ve seen Owen fight before, and he’s better than this.” Reed lands two flying knees into Owen’s side and I turn away. “He’s distracted because of me.”

  “Can you blame the guy? After what Reed did…” Christian can’t even stand to say it.

  Tucker knows he’s missing something. But he also seems to sense that I don’t want to talk about it, and he doesn’t ask any questions.

  Christian shadowboxes as if he’s in the ring fighting along with Owen. And even Christian winces when Owen takes a slashing elbow to the forehead that draws blood.

  Reed follows the elbow with another jab-low kick combo and lands both.

  “Your ex really has a thing for low kicks.” Christian wrings his hands in front of him.

  “No. This is new. He’s trying to take one of Owen’s legs out. That would give him a huge advantage.”

  The bell rings and Lazarus rushes into the cage to try to stop Owen’s forehead from bleeding. Cutter goes easy on him. Her mannerisms are more encouraging than critical.

  When Owen comes out of his corner for round five, he doesn’t look good. His head is still bleeding and his eye is starting to swell shut.

  For the first few minutes, Owen concentrates on blocking Reed’s attacks. Owen doesn’t look steady on his feet. With each punch, Owen appears more and more dazed—and Reed knows it.

  Reed backs up, intentionally moving closer and closer to the cage.

  I realize what he’s doing before Owen seems to, which makes no sense. It’s a move Owen should see coming. But he doesn’t, and it feels like I’m watching a car accident in slow motion.

  I’m out of my seat. “Owen, get out of the way!”

  Reed jumps and pushes off from the cage with his left leg and throws a right hook. His fist hits Owen in the temple and Owen goes down.

  The crowd goes wild.

  “Did you see that Superman punch off the cage?” someone yells behind us.

  “Come on, Owen. Get up,” I whisper like a mantra.

  Owen struggles to get back onto his feet, and he barely makes it up. He sways and the ref starts counting. He leans against the chain-link wall of the cage, still dazed. Then the ref does the unthinkable and calls the fight.

  * * *

  After the fight, Christian waits by the cage with me. I’m hoping Owen will come out so I can try to explain. I never would’ve wanted him to find out the truth this way. I can’t even think about the fight. Owen lost the championship because of me.

  “You okay?” Christian asks.

  “No.” For once, I admit how crappy I feel.

  “I can’t believe he lost. That’s rough. I mean, at least when we lose, I can usually blame it on somebody else.”

  “It’s my fault.” I watch the hallway that leads to the locker room.

  “Your ex messed with his head. And his friend sure as hell messed with Cameron’s.” Christian scratches his head. “What the hell was all that about? I mean, don’t get me wrong—I want to wipe the floor with those guys, too. But the last few weeks, Cam’s been going off the rails.”

  I watch him, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. But after a moment, it’s clear they haven’t. Maybe it would be easier for everyone if I told him about Cam’s feelings for Grace. Would Christian go ballistic? Or would he understand?

  After tonight, I’m not willing to meddle in my cousin’s life to find out. But there’s nothing wrong with dropping a few hints. “Cam seemed really upset when Reed’s friend insulted Grace.”

  “That’s what I mean. I’m usually the one who flies off the handle first. Cam looked like he wanted to rip that guy’s throat out. He’s definitely pissed off at me about something. He’s probably just taking it out on everyone else. The other day in practice, he tackled me so hard I thought I’d knocked one of my teeth out.”

  “Did you do anything to him? I mean, can you think of a reason he might be so upset?”

  Christian frowns and rubs his forehead. “I dunno. Pissing people off is kind of my specialty. He’s all over me about everything. My manners, the way I talk to Grace, my moves on the field. Look.” Christian nods at the hallway across from us. “Somebody’s coming.”

  It’s not Reed. The guy isn’t tall enough to be Owen. It’s probably Billy.

  I rub Dad’s dog tags between my fingers.

  Please, please don’t let Reed come out next.

  I’m not ready to face him. I hate him for what he did to Owen, but I also didn’t expect my reaction, the way my pulse sped up when I saw Reed, like I wanted to bolt. It felt like I was back at the bottom of the stairs again. Just seeing Reed triggered panic, as if emotions have their own version of muscle memory.

  Lazarus comes out of the locker rooms, wringing his hat between his hands.

  The moment I see Owen, my heart sinks.

  Cutter has her hand on the back of his neck, and he’s staring at the floor. I can’t see his face, but I know it must look bad. He’s wearing sweats, with his hood pulled up.

  “They’re coming over here.”

  “Well, we’re standing near the exit,” Christian says.

  I wait for Owen to look up, but he doesn’t. Cutter sees me and says something to him. She must hate me. I lied to her, too. And I cost Owen the fight.

  Lazarus walks by first and squeezes my arm as he passes.

  Cutter gives me a sad smile. “You should go in case he comes out this way.”

  She means Reed.

  “I just wanted to make sure Owen was okay.” My voice sounds strange and far away, like it doesn’t belong to me.

  Owen stops next to Christian and finally looks up at me. I shudder when I see his face. He has stitches above his eye, secured with butterfly tape. His whole face is swollen, and the shadows of bruises are forming along his jaw and cheekbones.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The look on Owen’s face tears me up inside.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he says. “Guess I wasn’t the only one hiding something.”

  “Come on, kid.” Cutter puts her hand on Owen’s shoulder and steers him toward the exit. “You need to get home and put some more ice on your face.”

  “I’m gonna go with Owen,” Tucker says.

  We watch them leave. Christian slings his arm around my neck. “Let’s get outta here. I don’t want to see your ex or his loser friends.”

  I nod and follow him to the car. I’m numb inside.

  Cameron is in the front seat talking to Grace, and he gets out when he sees me. “You ok
ay?”

  The moment he asks, I burst into tears. “No.”

  Cam hugs me.

  I get in the car and Grace hugs me, too. “We saw Owen across the parking lot. He looked awful—”

  “He lost.”

  Grace hugs me tighter. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Then whose fault is it?”

  “It’s Reed’s. That guy is…” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say anything. You were with him for a long time.”

  “You can say it,” I tell her.

  “He’s a total asshole.”

  “I second that,” Cam says, and Christian adds, “Third.”

  Grace drives, and it’s quiet until my phone rings. My heart leaps.

  Please be Owen.

  “Who is it?” Grace sounds hopeful.

  I check the display. “Unknown caller. That means it’s probably Reed.”

  “Give me the phone.” Christian practically jumps between the seats trying to grab it.

  I yank the phone out of his reach. The last thing I need is for this situation to get any worse. I answer the phone and immediately hang up.

  Within seconds, it rings again and I do the same thing: answer and hang up.

  I turn off the ringer, but I still hear the phone vibrate every time Reed calls. By the fifth time, I’m tired of answering and hanging up, so I just let it go to voice mail.

  “That guy has some serious problems,” Christian says. “You think I could take him in a fight?”

  I’m not sure if he’s asking Cam or me, but I’m the only one with the answer. “No.”

  “Why’d you say it like that? You didn’t even think about it,” Christian complains.

  “I don’t have to. He’s a trained MMA fighter. You’re a football player. It’s not the same.”

  Christian scowls. “I fight plenty.”

  “Not in a cage.”

  “It might be a nice change of pace if nobody got into a fight,” Grace tells him. “You could settle your problems without beating anyone to a pulp.”

  After Reed keeps calling for twenty minutes, I want to throw my phone out the window. “I have eight voice mails already.”

  Christian holds out his hand. “Seriously, give me the phone. I’ll talk to him. He’ll never call you again.”

  What could Reed possibly have to say that requires eight messages? He’s probably gloating.