The Anatomy of a Broken Heart //Completed//

53. Caleb

You won't always be here to protect her. Greg's words spun dizzy in my brain.

The only thing that made me feel even remotely okay was that I got a few good punches in before Moises pushed me away. I flexed my bruised knuckles and smiled as I remembered the crunching of Greg's jaw when my fist punched the smirk off of his face. But he'd laughed at me through the blood that spilled into his mouth. He'd laughed knowing that nothing I did would keep him away from her.

"Jackass," I muttered as I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and placed it gingerly on my hand, wincing as the cold hit the cuts that had opened on my skin. Jumping up on the kitchen island, I sat in silence until I heard footsteps coming from down the hall. As I was checking my knuckles to see if the swelling had gone down at all, Ansel walked in.

"Dude, what happened to your hand? It looks like it went through a meat grinder," Ansel grimaced when he caught sight of my hand.

"This," I held up my hand, "is the least of my worries." My thoughts switched from the play by play of attacking Greg, to the conversation I had with Santana. It felt like every time I spoke with her, something went wrong. Whenever I tried to help her, she just receded further into herself, pushing me away.

"Have you ever tried to help someone, but ended up making everything worse somehow?" I asked.

"Hmm...nope. But then again, I never try to help anyone who isn't me," he laughed. When I didn't join him, he frowned. "Is this about Farrah? Or Santana?"

I only shook my head, jumped off the island, and threw the bag of peas into the sink with a huff.

"Caleb, what the hell is going on?"

My back was to him, but I knew that tone. It wasn't very often that my cousin was concerned about someone other than himself, but when he was, it was genuine worry.

"Some asshole is bothering Santana and I think I just made things worse for her."

"That girl is a magnet for stand up guys, isn't she?"

I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest, looking hard at my cousin. "I blame you."

"Me?"

"If it hadn't been for your brilliant idea, I wouldn't have done the stupid shit I did tonight and she wouldn't be in trouble."

"And you think that if you hadn't tried to help, she'd be just fine? That this dude wouldn't still be doing whatever it is he's doing to her?"

Instead of helping, I was sure I'd only added fuel to the fire. That's how guys like Greg were. They liked the challenge, and if someone got in their way, the harder they fought. If Santana didn't get away, I was terrified of what could happen. Ansel was right; it wasn't his fault. It was mine.

I ran my hands heavily over my face, as if that could somehow erase what happened tonight.

"She's pretty tough, dude. I'm sure she'll be fine," Ansel tried to reassure me.

"No! You don't understand." The way she'd looked at me in the alley, the way her voice had broken, it was like I was seeing a different girl. Or a different side of a girl I thought was invincible.

Ansel looked at me like he didn't recognize me.

"What?"

"You..." he trailed off.

"I?"

"You care. You care about her."

"Yeah, she's my friend," I shrugged.