My face was broken.
He had the nerve to laugh harder, wiggling closer so that his bare, dirty knees pressed against my own bare, dirty knees. "I'm so sorry."
Him practically giggling didn’t make his apology totally believable.
I'm not sure how long we sat there, me squeezing my eyes closed with my chin between my hands, Sacha holding my hands in one of his and the back of my head with his other. It took everything in me not to cry because seriously, my chin was throbbing so bad my brain hurt. Even my teeth felt rattled. When the urge to cry finally managed to pass, I blinked up to see those translucent eyes peering at me in concern. Isaiah, Carter and Gordo were standing behind the man who had just kicked a ball at my face, visibly worried.
"Let me see," Sacha said gently, prying my hand away one digit at a time. Once he prodded with his fingers and made me wince, he let his hand fall to his lap.
“Are you all right?” Carter asked, palms cupping his knees, his face pink and distressed.
I nodded over at him, still holding my face and telling myself grown women didn’t cry from humiliation.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded again.
He didn’t look convinced. “I’ll go grab you some ice, okay?”
Yeah, I didn’t hold back my sniffle. “Thank you, Carter.”
Sacha patted my back. "Let's go sit over there, Princess." He stood up first, holding his hand out for me to take. After pulling me up, he led me toward one of the benches nearby. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating, smiling more than he should have, but I could tell he felt remorseful at least. If it had been either of my brothers who’d done that, they would have been on the floor dying laughing.
Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Eli arguing with Mason and Julian. By the time we made it to the bench, my brother was gesturing wildly and pointing in my direction.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the man sitting next to me asked, his entire body angled toward mine.
I went back to holding my face. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Positive?”
I nodded.
“I’m not joking. Are you sure?”
I gave him the same answer. I was fine. Mostly.
The corners of his mouth pulled down just slightly, his eyes roaming my cheeks and jaw. After a minute of silence, he smiled gently at me, his dark eyebrows slightly rising. “That was pretty fun though, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I sniffed again, “until you tried to break my jaw.”
“It was an accident!” He frowned, reaching over to put his hand on the top of my head gently. “I am so fucking sorry, I can’t tell you how shitty I feel. Do you want to hit me?”
I shook my head.
The corners of his mouth twitched up again. He was still fighting laughing no matter how bad he felt. “I really do feel awful. I can’t believe that happened.”
I made sure he watched me as I rolled my eyes but smiled afterward. “It’s all right. It isn’t the first time I’ve had a ball kicked at my face.”
Sacha had this expression that was a perfect mix of a frown and a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, you kicked my ass a few times on the field.” We both looked down at him. Brown and green splotches covered his shirt and shorts, and I swear there was even some mud tangled in his leg hairs. If he weren't so handsome, he'd look like a homeless person. "You play pretty fucking dirty."
I just shrugged at him. What was the point in denying it?
"Will you forgive me?"
"No." I frowned and blinked at him from the corner of my eye. "Yes."
Carter came jogging up to us a moment later with an ice-filled plastic baggy. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over.
