Chapter 48
SOPHIE
While my sister is off sipping cocktails in Turks and Caicos with her new husband, Beck and I are spending our Monday finishing up our psych project in the quiet corner of the library’s study lounge. Glamorous, I know.
We present on Wednesday, and then he leaves Friday morning for his last away game before bowl season. No classes this week thanks to finals break, just presentations, exams, and the weird limbo that happens right before winter sets in.
Right now, though, Beck’s pacing along the wall of windows with his phone pressed to his ear, talking to his coach. His voice is low, serious.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
I glance up from my laptop. His brow is furrowed, his free hand flexing and unflexing at his side. It’s been two days since Logan’s injury, and he still hasn’t been able to see him. The trainers and his coach decided it was best to limit visitors until after his surgery tomorrow.
“He won’t let anyone in?” Beck asks quietly. “Not even you?”
He nods a few times, jaw tightening. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Just…keep me updated, please.”
He ends the call and stands there for a moment, staring out the window like he’s trying to get his thoughts to line up.
I close my laptop gently and slide it to the side. “How is he?”
Beck turns toward me, running a hand through his hair. “He’s shutting everyone out. He told Coach he doesn’t want anyone to see him until after the surgery tomorrow. They’re still waiting for swelling to go down before they operate.”
My chest tightens. “Beck…”
He exhales slowly, coming over to drop into the chair beside me. “He’s probably embarrassed. Scared. Pissed. All of it. I would be too.”
I reach over and lace my fingers with his. He doesn’t need a pep talk. He just needs someone who gets it.
“I’m here,” I say softly.
His thumb strokes over the back of my hand, his gaze dropping for a moment before he nods. “I know. Thanks.”
Outside, the wind shakes the last few leaves clinging to the trees. Finals week always has this strange quiet around campus—like everyone’s holding their breath at once.
I squeeze his hand once more before turning back to my laptop. “All right,” I say, forcing some lightness into my tone. “We have approximately forty-eight hours to make this project sound like we didn’t pull half of it together over takeout at midnight.”
That earns me a grin, small but real. “Hey. We’re ahead of schedule.”
I arch a brow. “Because I made us a schedule.”
He leans back in his chair, still holding my hand loosely, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. “And you made an excellent one.”
We fall into an easy rhythm after that. Beck reads through the last few sections of our slides, tossing out ideas to make them sound more conversational, while I polish up the citations and formatting.
It’s comfortable—the kind of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled.
Just the sound of keys clicking, his occasional hum when something works, and the distant murmur of other students scattered around the lounge.
By the time I finish rearranging our final discussion points, I glance at the clock and realize we’ve been working for nearly two hours.
Beck leans back in his chair with a groan, stretching his arms overhead until his shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of his abs. “Okay,” he says, dragging out the word. “I think my brain just officially tapped out.”
I give him a mock glare over my laptop. “We still have two slides left, mister linebacker.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, dropping his arms and sitting up.
Before I can respond, he grabs my chair, pulling me closer, his knee brushing mine. “I’m thinking,” he says, lowering his voice slightly, “we need to take a break.”
I laugh. “That is definitely not on the schedule for right now. Do you really need one?”
“Yep. Pretty badly, in fact,” he repeats, leaning in like he’s testing me to see how close he can get before I close the distance from my mouth to his. “Breaks are scientifically proven to reset the brain. Or, you know, something like that.”
I pretend to consider it, tapping my pen against the table. “Hmm. I don’t recall that being in any psych textbook.”
“Guess we’ll just have to conduct our own experiment and see if we can do a little…reset.”
And then he kisses me.
It starts soft, just a brush of lips, but then lingers. His hand finds the side of my neck, thumb resting just below my jaw as he deepens it slightly—not enough to get us totally distracted, though it’s a near thing, but enough to send a warm, tingling rush down my spine.
When he finally pulls back, I’m a little breathless. “Okay,” I murmur. “Maybe that was necessary.”
He smirks. “Told you.”
I roll my eyes, trying to fight the smile tugging at my lips as I turn back to my laptop. “Fine. Kiss break over. Back to work.”
We knock out the last two slides quickly, both of us a little more relaxed than before. Once everything’s saved and backed up twice, because I’m not taking chances with university Wi-Fi, Beck closes his laptop and stands, stretching again.
“I’ve gotta head to practice,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Film first, then on-field work. Coach wants everything sharp this week.”
I nod, closing my laptop too. “Go make sure they don’t score and all that.”
He leans down to press a quick kiss to the top of my head. “Later, pretty girl.”
As he walks away, I catch myself smiling like an idiot.
I’m still thinking about Beck’s kiss break yesterday and our finished psych project as I walk down the hallway toward my dorm. My shift at the foster agency ran longer than expected, though it was a good kind of busy, the kind that leaves me tired but fulfilled.
I’m scrolling through my texts when I see the one from Ava that had me rushing home sooner than I originally planned.
Ava: Can you come to your room? I need you.
My stomach dips more and I pick up my pace.
When I push open the door, the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.
Ava’s curled up on my bed, knees pulled to her chest, a hoodie hanging loose around her frame. Her makeup is streaked down her cheeks, and her eyes are puffy from crying.
And she has a very angry black eye.
“Ava,” I breathe, crossing the room in two quick steps. “Oh my God.”
She looks up at me, embarrassed, like she’s been caught doing something wrong instead of what actually happened to her.
I drop my bag to the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
For a moment, she just shakes her head, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her hoodie. Her lower lip wobbles, and then the words come out in a rush.
“It was Coleson.”
My heart lurches. “What?”
She presses the heels of her hands against her forehead, like she can block it all out if she pushes hard enough. “I know. I know how bad that sounds. I just…I don’t even know how it got to this.”
I reach out and gently rest my hand over hers, grounding. “Start from the beginning.”
She takes a shaky breath. “It didn’t happen all at once. At first, it was just little things, comments, guilt trips, pushing my boundaries. And I’d tell myself it wasn’t that bad. He was stressed. He was drunk. He didn’t mean it.”
She laughs bitterly. “Classic, right?”
My chest aches. “Ava…”
“This morning,” she continues, voice cracking, “he came over and started yelling at me because I didn’t go to his game this weekend.
We had the wedding, he knew I couldn’t go.
I was literally at the wedding with you, but he said I was probably sleeping around instead.
Which is insane. He’s the one who’s been hooking up with other girls. I know he has.”
Her hands start to shake. “I told him I was done. That I couldn’t do it anymore. And he just…snapped. He shoved me. Hard. I hit my face on the dresser when I fell.”
I inhale slowly through my nose to keep my voice from betraying everything I’m feeling. “Ava. Oh my God.”
She wipes at her cheeks, but more tears spill over. “I’m so embarrassed. I should’ve walked away a long time ago. I let it get this far.”
“No,” I say firmly, squeezing her hand. “No. You don’t get to blame yourself for his choices. What he did is not your fault. Not even a little.”
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, the tough, confident Ava everyone knows slips away, leaving the raw, hurting version of her sitting here in front of me.
I shift closer and pull her into a hug. She stiffens for half a second before she just…breaks. Her arms wrap around me, her shoulders shaking against mine.
I rub slow circles on her back, keeping my voice low. “You’re safe now. We’re going to figure this out. You’re not alone, okay?”
She nods against my shoulder, tears dampening my shirt.
In the back of my mind, a flare of anger rises, not at her, but at him. Coleson. The idea of him laying a hand on her makes my stomach twist.
But right now isn’t about my anger. It’s about her.
I pull back after a minute, keeping one hand on Ava’s arm like I’m making sure she doesn’t disappear on me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy from crying, but there’s a little less panic in them now that everything’s out.
“Okay,” I say softly. “First things first, we need to get some ice on that eye before it swells more.”
I stand and cross to my tiny freezer, pushing aside the sad remains of my finals-week frozen dinners. There, buried in the back, is a half-forgotten bag of frozen blueberries.
I hold it up with a small grin. “All I’ve got are these.”
Ava sniffles, a watery laugh slipping out. “What happened to frozen peas? Isn’t that the universal injury thing?”
I grab a dish towel, wrap the bag in it, and bring it back over. “This is college. I’m not exactly stocked for emergencies.”
She lets out a soft laugh that turns shaky halfway through, but it’s something. She presses the makeshift ice pack to her eye and winces. “God, I look awful.”