I try to walk away, but Reed catches my arm. “We can leave together.”
“There is no we anymore.”
“You can’t break up with me because of this, Peyton.” His voice wavers. “I need you.”
“I’m sorry.” A knot forms in my throat. I turn toward the walkway that leads up to the house. I can see it over his shoulder. But Reed tugs on my arm. “Let go.”
“Not until you say we’ll work this out. That you love me and we’re still together,” he pleads.
“I can’t.” I try to pull away, a little harder this time.
Reed’s grip tightens and his fingers dig into my skin.
“I’m not messing around anymore, Reed. Let go.” I jerk my arm and he pulls me toward him with so much force that I hit his chest. He releases my arm, but I can’t get past him. He’s too close.
His nostrils flare and he’s breathing fast. “Yesterday you were kissing me. And now you don’t want me to touch you?”
He jabs at my shoulder with his fingers and pushes me back a few steps.
“You’re pushing me? I don’t think so.” I try to slip past him, but no matter which way I go he’s right there blocking my path.
“You’re breaking my heart, Peyton. You know that, right? And you don’t even give a shit.” He pushes me again, harder this time. I glance over my shoulder. The stairs are behind me.
“Stop it! The steps are right there!” I look around for help, but I can’t see past the hedges.
“After seven months, that’s all you have to say to me?” His mouth forms a hard line.
I catch a glimpse of Reed’s arm moving through the air. Rocketing toward me.
His palm slams against my chest and it knocks the wind out of me.
The ground seems to slide out from under my feet, and I fall backward. I swing my arms, trying to regain my balance. But it’s too late.
I’m already falling.…
My stomach plummets.
There’s no up or down.
Colors blur and sounds bleed together.
My shoulder hits the step first, absorbing some of the impact. I grab for the retaining wall, but I can’t catch ahold of anything. I’m half rolling, half skidding down the remaining steps. I see the ground, and I put my hands out in front of me to break my fall. But my knee hits the ground first.
My kneecap smashes against the concrete.
A shot of pain hits the back of my knee and splinters up my leg. A scream rips from my throat, and I manage to roll onto my side.
Reed is standing at the top of the steps, with his arms crossed. He shifts in and out of focus. I blink hard, and my vision sharpens.
For the first time, I see something different in Reed’s eyes when he looks at me.
Rage.
I try to process what’s happening, but my thoughts are jumbled. All I want to do is get away from him. I shift my weight to try to move. Pain shoots down the back of my leg behind my knee. I cry out, but my voice sounds strange, like it belongs to someone else. Like I’m not crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the person who put me here.
“Are you okay?” someone calls out.
I turn my head and see two people running toward me. That’s when I realize that I’m lying on the sidewalk where the steps and the retaining wall end, and now people can see me.
“A girl fell down the stairs,” someone shouts.
The pain shoots down the back of my knee again. Strangers crowd around me. At least I’m not alone with Reed.
He jogs down the steps, playing the concerned boyfriend.
If that asshole doesn’t stay away from me—
“Peyton? Oh my god!” It’s Tess.
Everything will be okay now.
Tess rushes over and kneels beside me. She brushes the hair out of my eyes. “What happened?”
“We were arguing,” Reed says. The rage is gone. Now he looks panicked. “Peyton shoved past me, and I guess she lost her balance.”
The words hit me like bricks.
“I tried to grab her arm, but I wasn’t fast enough.” Reed hesitates as if he can’t bear to say the next part.
“And she fell.”
CHAPTER 5
Shattered
AT FIRST, THE words don’t make sense.
I look at Tess. “I didn’t fall. Reed pushed me.”
For a second, Tess stares at me as if she couldn’t have heard me correctly.
“That’s not what happened, Peyton,” Reed says calmly. He kneels beside me, and I recoil.
“Get away from me!”
“Peyton? What’s wrong with you?” Tess’ voice trembles. “Reed would never hurt you.”
“You lost your balance,” he says patiently.
“You mean after you pushed me?”
Tess’ eyes dart between her brother and me. “Maybe it seemed that way, or—” She glances at the people crowding around us and presses her lips together, making it clear she doesn’t want them to hear our argument.
Another shot of pain races up behind my knee and I hold my breath until it subsides.
Oh god. It must be serious if it hurts this much. I can’t even bend it. How can I play soccer if I can’t bend my knee?
Lucia and Gwen push their way to the front. They drop down at my side, between Reed and me—providing a buffer without realizing it.
Tess takes out her phone. “We should call an ambulance.”
“No! Just take me to the emergency room.” I need a doctor to look at my knee. My whole body aches, but I try to push up with my elbows and get into a seated position. Another flash of pain races up the back of my leg and I suck in a sharp breath.
“I don’t think you should move,” Reed says. “What if you hurt your back?”
“I don’t give a shit what you think!” I shout. My friends and the other people gathered around us seem confused.
Tess and Lucia support my back and help me sit up. My injured leg is stretched out in front of me, but I can’t move it more than an inch without sending another shock of pain through my body. I’m not sure if I can stand, but I doubt it.
And there’s no way I can walk.
“You’ll have to carry her to the car, Reed,” Tess says.
He looks at me and I lose it. “Don’t even think about touching me.”
Reed rubs the back of his head. “Come on, Peyton. Don’t do this. Just let me carry you so we can get you to the ER.”
I ignore him and turn to Tess. “Find someone else. Anyone else.” She looks hurt, as if I’m talking about her.
“I’ll get Lorenzo,” Lucia offers.
I nod and grit my teeth against the pain. The back of my knee feels like a rubber band that’s being pulled too tight, and the smallest movement sends daggers up my leg.
“Are you okay?” Tess squeezes my arm.
“It just hurts,” I manage.
And I’m scared to death. What if it’s my ACL? Or a fracture? What if there’s permanent damage?
Tess turns to Reed. “I don’t understand what happened. Were you guys still fighting about how much you’ve been working?”
His eyes flash to mine.
“Go ahead, Reed. Tell her.”
He looks at Tess. “It’s a misunderstanding.”
“You’re a lying asshole.” The sight of him makes me sick. I look over at Tess. “He’s been doping. When I went out to the car to look for my phone, I found his stash in his gym bag.”
“I told you it’s not mine,” he says.
“You admitted it was yours.”
“No.” He stays calm. “You kept saying it was mine.”
Tess holds up a hand, cutting us both off. “Then whose is it?”
“It belongs to a friend.” Reed glances at TJ. “Someone on my team.”
“Think about it, Tess,” I plead. “Reed’s mood swings and his temper, the street fights … it’s because he’s doping.”
“Please don’t do this, Peyton,” Reed whispers, loud enough fo
r Tess to hear. “I know you think the drugs are mine, but they’re not.”
Tess’ bottom lip quivers, and her eyes flicker between her brother and me. She pulls her arm out from under my hand, making it clear she believes Reed.
My eyes burn and I blink back tears. One escapes and rolls down my cheek.
Thankfully, Lucia and Lorenzo plow through the crowd. He bends down next to me and Lucia hovers behind him.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear.
At least people think I’m on the verge of tears because of my knee and not my best friend’s betrayal.
I sniffle. “I don’t feel great.”
Lucia squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s get her to the hospital, babe.”
“On it.” Lorenzo picks me up gently, but even the smallest movement hurts my knee.
Reed rushes to his car and opens the passenger door, as if he thinks he’s driving me.
“I’m not going anywhere with him,” I tell Lorenzo.
Reed hears me and stands on the sidewalk with his shoulders sagging. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would push his girlfriend down the stairs. But that’s exactly who he is, even if I’m the only person who can see it.
The crowd around us begins to whisper. Lorenzo stops, unsure what to do or where to go.
Lucia takes over. “Tess, why don’t you drive Reed’s car? He can ride to the emergency room with Lorenzo and me.”
Reed nods at Tess, as if she needs his permission. “Peyton has the keys.”
I take them out of my pocket and hand them to Lorenzo.
I don’t want Reed to come to the ER. I never want to see him again. How could he do this to me? My mind keeps going back to the same thought.
What if there’s permanent damage?
Lorenzo helps me into the back seat, and I clench my teeth against the pain.
“We’re parked all the way on the other side of the house, so we’ll be a few minutes behind you,” Lucia says.
“Can someone call my mom?” I ask.
“I will.” Tess whips out her phone and she jogs around to the driver’s side. When she gets in the car, I listen to her side of the conversation.
“She’s okay,” Tess tells Mom.
No, I’m not.
“I mean, she hurt her knee. But other than that she’s okay. Umm … She fell down the stairs.”
“I didn’t fall,” I say under my breath.
Why doesn’t she believe me?
“We’re in the car now. She’s right here. Hang on.” Tess tries to hand me the phone. “Your mom wants to talk to you.”
If I talk to Mom I’ll fall apart, and I have to hold it together until I get to the ER. “I’m all right, Mom,” I yell, loud enough for her to hear me. “I just want to go to the hospital.”
Tess gets back on the phone. “Your mom says she’s on her way.”
The pain has finally caught up with me, and my whole body aches. My eyelids feel heavy, but I fight to keep them open. I’m not letting down my guard with Reed standing outside the car.
When we finally pull away from the curb, I let out a sigh of relief as the crowd grows smaller and smaller through the rear window. Reed stands in front of everyone, watching me.
There’s so much I want to say to Tess, but I’m exhausted.
I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.
I feel the ghost of Reed’s hand on my arm and the pressure from the final push, and my body jerks. My adrenaline spikes and then it bottoms out again, like the crash you experience after pulling too many all-nighters.
“The ER is only five minutes away,” Tess says, her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.
“He pushed me, Tess. I swear.”
Her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Maybe it seemed that way because you bumped into him and he tried to grab you. It could’ve felt like a push.”
“But that’s not what happened.”
“Reed would never hurt you. He cares about you more than he cares about himself.”
How can I get through to her?
Trashing Reed won’t work, so I try another approach. “I know the difference between someone pushing me and someone trying to grab my arm. It was a push. Reed lost his temper and flew into a rage.”
“The drugs weren’t his,” she says firmly.
“Tess, all the signs are there—”
She cuts me off. “He’s been moody and temperamental because he’s exhausted. He trains nine hours a day, seven days a week. Then he coaches fighters for another four or five hours before he goes to a sketchy location to fight so we can afford food and electricity.”
There’s no way to get her to believe me right now.
Tess pulls into the hospital driveway and stops near the glass doors to the ER. She leaves the car running and hops out. “I’ll be right back.”
Once I’m alone, the panic hits me full-force. Some of the shock of Reed pushing me has worn off, and now all I can think about is my knee.
What if I can’t play soccer anymore? Permanent damage could keep me off the field—and end my career before it begins. Every once in a while you hear about a situation like this on the news. A high school athlete blows out a knee or an elbow during senior year, and it’s game over. What else will I do if soccer isn’t an option?
Nothing. I’ll do nothing.
Going pro has been my dream for as long as I remember.
The folded acceptance letter is still tucked in my back pocket.
I don’t have a plan B.
Tess returns with two nurses, and the three of them to help me out of the car and into a wheelchair. Inside, a nurse wheels me through a pair of double doors that lead to an examination area, where hospital beds are lined up along the walls and separated by privacy curtains. Once I’m settled in a hospital bed, Tess sits with me as the nurse takes down my personal information.
“Can you tell me where it hurts and describe the pain?” the nurse asks.
“I’ve had some shooting pains, but there’s also a weird pulling feeling. Is that bad?” I ask.
“I’m not a doctor, sweetheart. But don’t worry. This is an excellent hospital.” The nurse takes notes on a form attached to her clipboard. “How would you rate your pain, on a scale of one to ten? One being no pain and ten being unbearable pain.”
“If I don’t move my knee, it’s around a five. But if I bend it, the pain shoots up to an eight or nine.”
More like a ten.
I’m trying to be brave. A ten seems like a pain level of someone who survived a car crash, not a fall down the stairs. But if the nurse asked me to rate how scared I am right now, it’s a twelve.
“How did you hurt your knee?” the nurse asks.
If I say Reed pushed me intentionally, he might get arrested. If Tess weren’t in the picture, I would’ve called the police already.
But Mrs. Michaels can’t support herself and Tess on her own. She tried before and it didn’t go well. It seemed like every year they were moving into another crummy apartment. When Mrs. Michaels ran out of friends’ couches to crash on, Reed started working even more extra hours to help out.
“I fell down a flight of stairs,” I say.
“Did you hit your knee against anything?” She scribbles more notes on her clipboard.
“My kneecap hit the ground.”
“On the sidewalk,” Tess adds, wringing her hands.
The nurse finishes writing. “A doctor is going to come and take a look. Can I call someone for you?”
“I already talked to her mom,” Tess says. “She’s on her way.”
“I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” The nurse pulls the privacy curtain around the bed, and Tess and I are alone again.
“Thanks for not saying anything,” she says.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth.”
Tess presses the heels of her hands against her temples, like she’s fighting the worst head
ache of her life. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re my best friend. I want to believe you. But we’re talking about Reed. He’s my brother. He wouldn’t lie to me. And he loves you. He’d never hurt you.”
Until tonight I thought the same thing. “I know you want to believe him, but he admitted the drugs were his. That’s what we were fighting about before he—”
“It’s a misunderstanding.” Tess’ tone turns harsh. “That’s the only explanation.”
Not the only one.
Before the argument escalates, I hear Mom’s voice on the other side of the curtain asking for me. “I’m looking for my daughter, Peyton Rios.”
“Mom?” I call out.
A moment later, she pulls back the fabric and rushes toward me, trapping me in a hug. “Thank god you’re okay. What happened?” Mom stands and looks from me to Tess.
“I’m going to the waiting room.” Tess tries to part the curtain, but she can’t find the opening and she has to walk past Mom to go through the other side. Normally, Tess would give her a hug, but not today.
Mom takes my hand. “What’s going on?”
I try not to cry. “We were at the party, and I went out to Reed’s car to look for my phone. But I found something else.”
“What?” Mom leans closer and her dark hair swings forward.
“He’s doping. I found steroids in his gym bag.”
“I don’t understand. What does this have to do with your knee?” The moment Mom asks the question, recognition flashes in her eyes. “What happened to your knee?” She says each word slowly, giving them weight. “Tess said you fell down the stairs.”
“I did.” I nod as a tear runs down my cheek. “Reed pushed me.”
My mother narrows her eyes. “Reed did this?” Her expression is ice cold, and it has Wife of a Force Recon Marine written all over it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mom, don’t!” I try to push myself up in bed. “Mom!”
She storms past the other beds and walks through the automatic doors that lead to the waiting area. For a split second, I panic. What if she does something stupid and Reed gets angry and hurts her, too?
An image of my mom standing at the window, in her nightshirt, flashes through my mind. I was eight or nine. Dad was away and Mom heard someone outside. She told me to hide under the bed, which I did for two minutes before I scurried down the stairs to see what I was missing. She was standing in front of the bay window in our living room with a baseball bat resting on her shoulder and the phone in her hand. She called 911, and the police came. Nothing happened, but after watching her that night, I knew that if someone had been out there, my mom would’ve protected us.