by Ginger Scott
“Yeah, you know…like fucked? I just didn’t wanna say fuck and all cuz, you know…I’m classy,” Sarah says.
We all sit in silence for a few seconds, and Sean is the first to snort out a laugh. Soon we’re all lying on our backs, kicking at the water and repeating our favorite parts of everything Sarah just said. The sound of all of us is so familiar, like no time has ever been missed. I used to wonder what it would have been like—life—if I’d spent it all still in this town, surrounded by all of them. I wonder if none of the bad things would have happened. But then…who would any of us be now if we never left.
“I should hit the road, actually. My flight’s in a few hours.” Jason stands and unrolls his jeans so he can put his socks and shoes back on and look more airport-ready and less carefree.
I look up at him and squint from the sun.
“You’ll take care of him?”
I ask him this every time he leaves to go be with Reed. Not that there is anything extra Jason can do, but somehow just the little promise he makes by squeezing my hand and nodding makes me feel better.
Our party starts to break off slowly as the afternoon wears on. By bonfire time, it’s only Becky, Sean, Peyton, and I headed to the practice field north of the school.
“No Sarah?” Becky leans between the front seats while I drive. I glance at her and shrug.
“She was so gung-ho, but then said she had a headache. I honestly think maybe going to these things makes her sad. I think maybe she’s missing youth a little…if that makes sense?”
Becky laughs.
“Aren’t we all,” she says, leaning back into her seat. I nod at her in the mirror.
“Seriously,” I say.
I pull around to the side gate, taking advantage of my parking privileges and avoiding the muddy tires the dirt lot usually leaves me with. We all climb out of my Tahoe together, and I see it just a flash before my daughter does—not soon enough to protect her, though.
My heart breaks for her as if it were my own all over again. Bryce’s hand is deep in the girl’s back pocket, and his mouth is devouring her neck. Their backs are to us, but their friends are facing us. Almost amused that they get to watch some major drama unfold, they nod in our direction, smirking a warning to Bryce who jerks around quickly, taking a step back from the girl he was with, flashing a face that is nothing short of guilty as sin.
“Peyton—” He doesn’t know how to finish that, and I knew he wouldn’t.
My daughter holds up a hand and instantly climbs back into the SUV, slamming the door quickly. We all follow her, not even questioning it, and as Becky and Sean lean in toward me, I whisper “Boyfriend.”
Peyton adds quickly, and much louder, “Ex-boyfriend.”
Her tears sit in a heavy well under her eyes, threatening to fall, but holding firm until I can turn the car on, pull around and hide her face from anyone’s view. As soon as we leave the school parking lot, she falls apart, and I put my arm around her and pull her to my side, driving slowly because she’s completely left the safety of her seat.
Nobody says a word; not as we pull in the driveway, and not as we all file back through the front door into the now dark and empty house. I glance back at my friends with pained eyes that they understand, then get Peyton upstairs and into her room. I sit on the side of her bed while she cries into my lap for nearly half an hour before she speaks. It’s the silent shakes that hurt the most to feel. It will get better, baby…I promise.
“I’m so mad.” Her voice is dry, so I offer water. She doesn’t want it. I smooth hair that looks just like mine behind an ear just like mine. My mom did this for me more than once.
“I’m sad, too,” she says, her body filling with a slow breath that she holds for several seconds. A tear slides down her raw cheek and she pulls her blanket into her fist to dab it away. “I’m more sad than mad now. I just want to be mad and that’s it.”
“I know.” I trace her arm down to her hand so I can squeeze it. I would give anything to make this better, to go through this for her and erase the feeling from her memory, but I know I can’t. Some painful things have to be survived when a person’s young and learning about love. She’ll be stronger—find herself.
I hope.
“Tell me again. Tell me about what you did to daddy when this happened?” I chuckle lightly, but even still, the stab at my side aches. This is a hard one to talk about, especially now. I’ve always been honest with Peyton, and when she started to notice boys and ask questions—even questions about me and my freshman year and beyond—I always told her whatever she wanted to know. She got the truth.
She’s fascinated with Reed and my story. She says we’re a fairytale, and as much as I don’t want her to have a false illusion about life and love, I do think we are. I think girls deserve fairytales—and I think good guys deserve time to screw up and get second chances. There’s a fine line there, though. It’s a different line for everyone. When I first told Peyton about the times Reed and I broke up in high school, or before we got together and he dated other girls, she was adamant that she would never put up with a boy doing any of that. She came to the realization on her own that she wouldn’t have this amazing man in her life now if I hadn’t practiced a little forgiveness, though. A lot of forgiveness.
I loved Reed recklessly. I loved him blindly. I loved him despite every little and big thing that got in our way. And when I made mistakes of my own, Reed loved me right back. I’m sure to always remind her of that, too. That we make mistakes too. All we can do is learn from every hurt and misstep. For Reed and I, we learned to talk.
We learned to listen.
“I was mad as hell every time. And I was sad…just like you,” I say, bending forward and kissing her head. I sweep her hair more, hoping the rhythm will soothe her.
“That’s when you dated Uncle Sean,” she says, and I lean my head to the side thinking back, my lips puckering into an embarrassed smile.
“Yes, I guess it was, but…” I lean back on my palms as she crawls up in her bed, burying herself in her covers. “It was a lot more complicated than that.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. I don’t know how to explain this part to her. Sean was my first kiss, and when I look back on it all with the wisdom I have now, yeah…I kissed Sean and became his girlfriend as a way to get back at Reed. It was a really shitty thing to do, and the woman I am now would never do that. But if I were fifteen and faced with the same circumstances, I’m sure I would do the exact same thing. I don’t regret any of it, and maybe that’s because of how lucky I got—Sean became a forever friend. I grew as a person. It brought Reed and me closer.
“I messed up too, you know,” I say, tipping her chin up enough to meet my eyes. “And you’ll mess up someday. More than messing up your dad’s Jeep.” I tuck my chin as I stare at her, and she rolls her eyes, but smiles on one side.
“You’ll hurt someone on accident, and you’ll feel terrible about it because right now—this moment—you know how it feels. You’ll keep this somewhere inside, and what hurts will turn to muscle. It’s okay to be mad and sad, and it’s okay if you want to march up to that boy on Monday and punch him in the face. It’s okay if you choose to forgive him later, and it’s okay if you don’t. Just don’t let yourself fall into the trap of thinking that any of this means you aren’t enough, because you are. He’s just not ready to deserve you.”
Her long lashes blink slowly over her wide eyes.
“Your grandma always told me to wait for the ones who were worthy. I just waited until your dad was,” I say, running my fingers through her now spread-out hair on her pillow. “He was worth the wait.”
Her phone buzzes with Bryce’s call—his hundredth, at least—and she rolls her head to the side to stare at her phone on her night table.
“Turn it off.”
I reach for her phone and power it down, leaving it just out of her reach.
“I’ll never mess up like this,” she says, rolling herself up in her blanket an
d turning on her side.
She might be right. But that’s another thing she gets from me—we have a hard time seeing when we might just be wrong.
She won’t sleep, so I don’t even suggest it when I leave her to lie in her bed, chewing at her nails slowly while her eyes stare off into nothingness. I’ve stared at that nothingness before. I’ve been in this same exact position—both emotionally and literally. This won’t be her first heartbreak, and I can’t say or do anything to make it better. But I can be here. That does somehow help.
I slip through the door quietly, mentally noting to call my mom in the morning and talk to her about this. She gives great advice, and I wish they didn’t live so far. After decades of desert heat, they finally escaped to the pines up north. It’s the greatest gift we were able to buy for them when Reed got his first huge contract—retirement.
The shower sound cuts out, so I hover in the hall, expecting to catch Becky on her way back to the guest room with Sean. The door opens without a lot of time passing, though, and it takes my head a few seconds to catch up to what I’m seeing and feeling. It’s not Becky. And it’s not just one person. It’s two.
More specifically, it’s Sarah’s naked ass. Her legs are wrapped around Jason’s waist, and they’re both steaming hot and pink from the shower. And they’re kissing.
Oh, holy fuck!
“What the ever-loving hell?” I shield my eyes, but not enough. It could never be enough.
Sarah awkwardly slides down Jason as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close in attempt to hide both of their…parts.
“Oh my God!” I shout again, spinning and dizzy.
“My flight was cancelled,” Jason says, and I start to choke as I cough.
“Yeah, umm, that is not the shocking thing right now!” I cover my eyes with both hands, and amble my way down the hall trying to get distance.
“Oh my God!” Becky’s voice echoes mine from thirty seconds before, and I grab her as I feel her run into me in the hallway. We hug, and whisper disbelief to each other on repeat, spinning in shock.
Sean has started to laugh, and a few seconds later, Peyton joins in.
“Peyton, get in your room!” I just need to be in control of something.
“No way,” my daughter laughs out.
“My clothes are in the bathroom,” Jason says, his hand held out of the linen closet door that he and Sarah have hidden themselves in.
“So are mine, you ass!” Sarah shouts from behind him. Her hand slides through the crack just below where his is.
“I am not touching anything in that bathroom. Everybody is walking away. I’m going outside. Peyton is going in her room.” I stop and point firmly at my daughter, who rolls her eyes but finally obeys. “Doors are being closed, and you guys can put your own damn clothes on. And you know what? Clean my shower. And the floor!”
I link my arm with Becky’s and we guide each other down the stairs where Sean is already waiting, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. I walk immediately to the leftover wine from our weekend and pull the cork out, flinging it somewhere over my shoulder. I tip the bottle back and gulp, handing it to Becky who does the same.
“Sarah and Jason.” Beck says out loud what I keep saying in my head.
“They hate each other,” she adds.
I nod slowly with wide eyes and the bitter taste of cheap wine on my tongue.
“They were naked, Becks. So very naked.” I hum, reaching for the bottle to add to the sour in my mouth.
“Yep,” Becky says. We both lean back into the counter and lock gazes, trying to make sense out of this night. The weirdest thing of all is that Sarah and Jason actually do make sense. They make a lot of sense. I just can’t believe none of us saw it coming. And that both of them were able to keep their mouths shut.
I wonder for how long.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and pretty soon, Reed’s favorite song starts to play. My mouth starts to curve on the edges, just like Becky’s, as I pull my phone out to answer his call.
“He is going to shit himself,” my friend says.
I nod and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey, babe…” I answer, unable to wait through his greeting on the other end. The words just have to come out. My other half has to feel just as confused as I am.
“Yeah…almost there…good. So, your brother and Sarah are boinking.”
Chapter Fourteen
Reed
Jason hasn’t called me back. I don’t blame him. He knows why I’m calling, and that’s fine. I’ll wait. He can’t avoid me forever. His paycheck guarantees that.
“All right, Reed. You know the drill.”
The tech is nice. She’s the same one I’ve had for the last two ultrasounds. The results always come back with “inflammation,” and I’m starting to think that’s just my new life—one big, fat inflammation. Doctor Williams, the team doc, is hovering around the computer, waiting for images of my muscles and joints to populate the screen. He’s not much of a talker, but he’s serious about the work he prescribes. And when he tells people to lay off the work for a while to heal, he’s serious about that, too. I’ve listened. If anything, I’ve gotten lazy I’ve laid off my calf so much.
I pull myself up on the table and flip on my side while the tech rolls up my shorts until I’m showing way too much leg. My phone vibrates in my palm just as she’s slapping the cool jelly on my skin, so I wince when I answer.
“You goddamned asshole,” I say, tucking the phone into the crook of my neck and mouthing to the tech “not you.”
She giggles and lifts a brow.
“I figured,” she whispers. “Hi, Jason.” She says that part for my brother a little louder.
“Oh hey, that’s Wendy. Tell her hi.” My brother is acting like this is any other day rather than the one after I now know what I know.
“You don’t get to do that. No, no. What the hell, man?” I twitch a little when Wendy starts to move the wand around. Six-two, two-hundred-twenty-five pounds, and I’m ticklish as hell.
“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything,” Jason says, a very audible sigh punctuating his response.
“What is why? I might be critical? I might wonder what’s up with the flirting? I might wonder why…out of every woman between here and Arizona…you had to pick my wife’s best friend to screw over?”
“I love her.”
My brother punches the air from my lungs with three words. I part my lips but only a gasp escapes, and only Wendy can hear it. I’m blinking and my head is spinning, and the length of silence between us over the phone is ticking longer and longer.
“There aren’t other girls. I’m not flirting with anyone, and if you really thought about it, if you really think back over the last six months, you’d realize that I have been so completely not into any other woman.” Jason’s voice is almost angry. It’s definitely defensive. Shit. This…it’s the real deal.
“Six months.” I lock onto that detail.
“Officially,” he adds.
I echo “officially” with a whisper and a breath of a laugh.
“Don’t do that. Don’t belittle it. Yes, officially. I asked her…officially. I asked to be real and to try this, a me and her. And we both decided to keep it to ourselves because we wanted it to have a shot without all of our friends and family throwing darts at it.”
I wince with guilt. He’s not painting a flattering picture, but it sure as hell is accurate. We would have. We’re dart-throwers.
“I love her, man. I go back a lot more often than you think I do, and half of those times I tell you I’m at conferences, I’m not. I’m holed up in the apartment here or back in Arizona, with her.” I can actually picture his expression from the way his voice softens and rasps with that hint of desperation. This is how I talk about Nolan.
“I thought she hated you,” I chuckle out.
“Yeah, she may have at one point.” He’s quiet after that. I think because this…it’s har
d for him. He really loves her.
“There are things I should say…for Nolan. But I…”
My brother interrupts me.
“I’m not going to fuck this up. It’s real. I, uh…” His pause seizes my chest.
“You…” I can’t get my own mouth to form the rest of the words.
“I bought a ring. I asked her dad. I’ve booked a beach house. I hired a fucking cello player, man. I’m in deep.” His swallow is audible. I burst into laughter. He joins me.
“Wow,” I say, overexaggerating the way the word moves my mouth. “When?”
“Thanksgiving. I have to tell Dad I’ll be missing it,” Jason says.
“He won’t care, dude.” I don’t add how dad and Rose will think this is a miracle. Jason having a family was something our pops just about wrote off. This is going to make his day. If anything, he’s going to insist he travel to California and hide in the bushes to watch the proposal go down.
“Congrats, man. Honestly…I’m happy for you.” I sit up, my leg wiped clean with a warm towel. My feet dangle from the exam table.
“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see ya in a few hours. And do me a favor…just keep this with us for now. I want to tell people,” my brother says.
“I got you,” I say, and we exchange brief byes then hang up just in time for Doctor Williams to slide around so he’s facing me, his long knees jutted up in the air because his body is too big for the tiny stool he’s sitting on.
“Give it to me straight, Doc,” I say, smirking. The doc and I have a long history. He was with Detroit for my big injury, and he’s delivered some seriously tough news to me in the past. This calf thing—it’s nothing.
“You’re clear.”
I blink a few times because clear isn’t what I was expecting. Honestly, I was ready for chronic arthritis, splints, spurs, hairline fractures, tears. Clear? Not even a word I recognize.