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No, the second most.
Arms wrapped around her. Quinn, holding her tight, murmuring the same reassuring crap Becca had been saying twenty minutes ago.
“Merrick!” The coach was calling from the center of the field. “Quit screwing around.”
“Go on, dickhead,” said Quinn.
Gabriel didn’t say anything. Becca heard nothing but her own sobs, then a quick swish of cleats through grass.
She thought Gabriel was leaving, but Quinn muttered, “Oh, crap.”
“Come on, man.” Drew’s voice. “What are you—wait. Becca?”
Becca lifted her head. Her face felt like a punching bag. She wished, wished, wished she hadn’t used up that punch on Gabriel. Because now her rage was a puddle in the grass. And Drew was the one who really deserved it.
Gabriel still stood there, looking down at her. His eyes, that same blue as Chris’s, were cold and unreadable.
Drew punched him in the arm. “Let’s go, dude.” Then he gave Becca that signature smile, the one that used to melt her insides but now mostly made her want to puke. “Wait—you’re not breaking up with her, are you? You know, most guys don’t date her, they just—”
Gabriel punched him.
Becca gasped. It was a good thing Quinn was holding on to her, because shock would have knocked her down.
Especially since Gabriel grabbed the front of Drew’s jersey, hauled him forward, and slugged him again.
Drew went down. His nose was bleeding. He couldn’t seem to get his joints to organize.
“Merrick!” The coach was running. Other players were running. Nick was off the bleachers and he’d grabbed his brother’s arm.
But Gabriel stood back and didn’t try to take another swing.
They were ordered off the field. All of them. The coach was so furious he was almost incoherent. He was hollering about detentions and suspensions and something about needing a goddamn cigarette.
Becca grabbed her things and fell into step beside Quinn.
She almost stopped short when Gabriel fell into step beside her. His cheek was even redder now—he was definitely going to have a black eye.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
She shrugged. Quinn reached out and squeezed her hand.
“That guy’s an ass**le,” he added.
“Yes,” she agreed. “He is.” She paused. “Thanks for hitting him.”
He grinned and touched his face. “Next time I’ll let you do it.”
She smiled back—a little.
Then she remembered something Chris had told her. “Wait—I thought you wouldn’t be able to play all year if you got in another fight.”
Nick snorted behind them. Gabriel laughed and dropped an arm across her shoulders, almost giving her half a hug. “You’re sweet. I’m not worried.”
Becca left his arm there. It felt good—brotherly. Like when she’d played foreman in their driveway.
She looked up at him. “You’re not?”
“Nah. Don’t you remember? They all think I’m Nick.”
