“You can’t resign from being valedictorian. And you’re giving that speech. One way or another.” Again, he dabbed at her face. “Hold still.”
He looked so fierce that she did as he said. “But this is your opportunity,” she said in a small voice.
“No, it isn’t. I’ll make my own opportunities, I don’t need leftovers.” The odd tone in his voice made her peer at him over the handkerchief. It smelled good, like freshly watered violets.
“Why do you even have a handkerchief? What are you, eighty?”
“No, but my grandmother is. She gave it to me for good luck. It’s a good thing I have it, or I’d be using my robe on you. So stop complaining.”
“Jeez, are you always so mean?” But for some reason, his crabbiness was making her tears dry up even faster than the handkerchief. She wondered if that was the point.
“You’ve known me since middle school. What do you think?”
Out in the auditorium, the Assistant Principal was now droning on about the students up for awards for volunteering. She heard Nick’s name. So did he. His eyelids flickered, but he didn’t stop tending to her appearance. He took off her mortarboard, smoothed her hair behind her ears, and set it back on her head. Her face felt hot and sweaty, but at least her hair wasn’t sticking to her cheeks anymore.
He put one hand under her armpit and hauled her to her feet. Their purple robes billowed around them. She wavered on her feet and blew out a breath. “I’m standing.”
“Yup. That’s the first step, I hear. Next comes walking. Here’s what we’re going to do. My speech comes first. While I’m giving mine, you go out there and sit down in your seat. I’m going to be watching you like a hawk, so don’t even think about leaving. When I’m done, you come up and give yours. Same thing, I’ll be watching like a hawk. So you’d better be good.”
“Can’t you come up with a better analogy than ‘hawk’? It’s so cliché,” she grumbled. Now that she was on her feet, she felt better. Or at least stronger. Still miserable, but determined not to be too pathetic, so that seemed like progress. She remembered that her parents were out there, and her little sister, and her great aunt Cathy from Seattle. Of course she had to give her speech.
“Well, I’m only the salutatorian,” he pointed out. “I’m no Peyton Locke.”
That made her laugh, or maybe it was more of a gurgle. “Okay. I got this. I’m good.” She brushed the wrinkles out of her robe and gulped in air. “Hey, they’re calling your name.”
He didn’t move. She realized that he was waiting to make sure she was okay. That he wouldn’t mind missing his speech if he had to. That right now, her wellbeing—or possibly her sanity—was more important.
“I’m fine. Go.” She gave him a little shove. “Please don’t tell anyone about this?” she added in a small voice.
He frowned, those eyebrows making him look fierce again. “Really? You think I’d do that? I’m not Jack Cooper, so forget that.”
She bit her lip at the mention of Jack’s name, blinking madly to keep the tears back.
“Sorry.” Nick pulled off his mortarboard and dragged a hand through his thick dark hair. “Let’s back up. No, I’m not going to tell anyone. Just get your butt out there and don’t worry about it. Focus on one thing. See if you can top my speech.”
And with a wild grin that she’d never seen from him before, he dashed toward the stage as the principal called his name for the second time.
He kept his word. She felt his steady gaze on her the entire time she was onstage for her own speech. He encouraged her, prodded her, sent silent support and challenge. There was no way she could have given the speech without him. And she kept her poise until the very end, when she caught sight of the empty seat where Jack should have been. But by then, she was able to mask it as an emotional goodbye to the Class of ’07.
She never did get a chance to thank Nick. He didn’t attend any of the same graduation parties she did, and he left for a summer job as a climbing guide soon afterwards. Everyone went on with their lives, like dandelion spores scattering in all directions. She spent the summer alternating between a job at the Dairy Freeze and sobbing under her covers, where her mother couldn’t hear her. Then she went to college, then medical school and finished her residency.
Her heartbreak had been dire, but on the bright side, she’d gotten great grades. She hadn’t found the college boys particularly distracting compared to Jack. Sophomore year, she began going to parties and dating, even found a boyfriend, but she always put her schoolwork first. In med school, she tried to juggle a new boyfriend with the intense study demands, and once again the relationship lost out.
By the time she moved back to Everton, the memory of Jack had faded. Those sweet, wild make-out sessions, the delirious joy of gazing into his blazing blue eyes, the frantic racing of her heart every time he smiled at her…it all felt so distant.
But she never forgot Nick Kolanowski’s kindness that day.
CHAPTER THREE
Oh, come on.
Nick clenched his fists in the pockets of his workout jacket. Couldn’t he make a simple trip to the clinic without drooling all over Peyton Locke? Had nothing changed in the past ten years?
Yes, some things had changed. Peyton’s hair had darkened from strawberry blonde to something more like apricot brandy. Her freckles no longer stood out the way they used to. She probably still had them, but he’d have to get a closer look to make sure. Which he wouldn’t because he was here strictly as the adult in charge of Dale. He’d given up on Peyton years ago.
Or at least most of him had.
Until he’d first seen her again, jogging around the reservoir. He’d stopped dead in his tracks—Peyton Locke? Back in Everton?
Since then, he’d been at war with himself. The two of them were solidly in the friend zone, but the undercurrent of attraction kept getting stronger. It didn’t seem possible that it was only on his end. He’d seen her checking him out now and then. In high school, she’d been lost in Jack-world. But now, she never mentioned him. That left the field wide open for him. But still, he hesitated. The stakes seemed so high. What if she shut him down forever?
“We need to X-ray this wrist,” Peyton told Dale. “I’m hopeful it’s just a sprain. But we need to make sure nothing’s broken.”
“Can I still play?”
“Well…” Peyton glanced at Nick.
“Sorry, Dale. I’d be breaking about twenty rules if I let you play with a hurt wrist. But don’t worry, you’ll find a way to contribute. You always do.” Nick gently squeezed the kid’s shoulder. He knew exactly how the boy felt, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Except divert Peyton’s attention while the kid fought to get ahold of his emotions.
“Have you decided yet about the reunion?” he asked her.
She was busy writing up a notation on the clipboard. She glanced up, her pretty hazel-blue eyes catching the light from the window. He’d noticed back in high school that her eyes changed color according to what she wore. He’d always found that fascinating. Right now, her eyes reflected the sky-blue shade of the top she wore under her white doctor’s coat.
Not that he should be staring at her chest. Jesus.
“I haven’t really thought about it.” Color flooded her face. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m…uh…ambivalent. Did you decide?”
“I don’t really have a choice. I teach at the high school, it would be strange if I didn’t come to the reunion. At least that’s what the committee keeps telling me,” he added dryly. “They really know how to go for the hard sell, those guys.”
“Right?” She rolled her eyes as she rigged up a sling for Dale’s arm. “Maria told me I should come because someone might need medical attention. Apparently, we have two pregnant women, one heart condition, and three people with anxiety disorders planning to come.”
“There you go. You’d be putting lives at risk if you skip it.”
She smiled at him, and his heart did a slow, ac
hing burn. Goddamn it. Why did he still have feelings for Peyton? Or maybe these were new feelings. After all, he’d had three solid, long-term relationships since high school. They’d been great, and they’d all ended with no hard feelings. But lately, he’d been wondering if they’d all ended because he was still stuck on Peyton.
“I was thinking I’d wait for the fiftieth reunion,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be ready by then.” Turning to Dale, she added, “I was the class geek, so I’m trying to put those years behind me.”
“Academic superstar,” Nick corrected her. “Kicked my ass in every subject except history.”
Dale was looking back and forth between the two of them. “What are you guys, like, thirty? You shouldn’t wait another fifty years.”
Nick snorted. “That’s true, we might be having our reunion over Jell-O at the old folks’ home. Thanks for the ego boost, Dale.”
“Right, we’re still in the Jell-O shot stage of life,” Peyton said. Then she caught herself and sobered quickly. “Jell-O shots are terrible, Dale. Not worth trying at all. Disgusting, even.”
Dale rolled his eyes. Nick noticed that he no longer seemed to be in so much pain. “You feeling better there, Red Lightning? Nickname,” he explained to Peyton. “This kid can steal a base like nobody’s business.”
Dale nodded, then slid off the exam table. Peyton accompanied him to the door, where she called for the nurse. Nick watched her—so competent, so caring, so cute—and cursed himself.
The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. Even a trip to the clinic with an injured player had that effect. Maybe it was time to cut back on Peyton time.
She turned back to him, still smiling from her interaction with Dale. “So. I’m done with patients for the day. I was going to finish up some paperwork, but I wouldn’t mind a change of plans. Like, anything but paperwork sounds good to me. Do you have to get back to practice?”
“Uh, no, but…” He hesitated. Hadn’t he just decided to avoid Peyton?
Her smile dropped. “Oh. That’s fine. We don’t have to. Paperwork is my life anyway; well, aside from setting bones and recommending flu shots and X-rays and the occasional pregnancy test and—”
“No, I’m good. I just have to drive Dale home. His mother’s at work and I told her I’d drop him off. Feel like a bike ride?”
On a bike, he could watch the road, the landscape, random birds flying by. He wouldn’t make an ass of himself staring at Peyton. He wouldn’t risk revealing his insane attraction to her.
Her face lit up. “That sounds great. I still have my old bike that I used to ride to school. Remember how everyone laughed at me?”
“No.”
He meant that sincerely. Maybe she thought people laughed at her, but he didn’t remember it that way. He remembered thinking that Peyton on that bike was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed. It was the bright yellow of a daffodil. A white wicker basket dangled from its handles, along with a bell to warn passing cars. It got smiles wherever she rode it. It was known far and wide as the Bananamobile.
She checked her watch. “How about we meet in half an hour at the trail to the reservoir? We can ride up, then jog a few laps around the res.”
“Sure.” Inwardly, he groaned. A long bike ride and jogging. Add in some warm-up stretches and it would be a trifecta of lusting after Peyton. And she had no idea. To her, it was all another fun way to use their high school competitiveness to get some exercise.
With a quick wave, she disappeared around the corner toward some kind of private “medical personnel only” area.
After she was gone, he looked down at his phone. She’d just sent him a text message. It read, “Last person to the res buys the drinks.”
Make that a quadfecta of lusting after Peyton.
CHAPTER FOUR
In high school, they’d all referred to the Everton reservoir as “the res.” All kinds of shenanigans took place there—parties, drinking, secret trysts. Nick had taken his first and only puff of weed there; he’d hated the taste and the fuzzy thinking it produced. But it also was a favorite place for joggers and bike riders. Willow trees grew along the edge, dipping graceful branches toward the water’s surface. A trail wound around it, starting from an open grassy area near the parking lot.
Biking the steep and winding road to the res got their heartbeats roaring. Nick and Peyton rode neck and neck all the way up, then set their bikes into the rack and collapsed onto the grass for a break. The area was filled with people doing their pre-exercise stretches.
“Still coming in second, I see,” Peyton teased. In navy spandex shorts and a t-shirt that said, “There is no ‘we’ in pizza,” she looked delicious enough to lick. She’d tucked her windblown hair into a ponytail that rested on her shoulder.
“It wasn’t a fair contest. I felt like I was racing a fifth grader. I was afraid you’d ring your little bell at me.”
“So you held back, huh? Didn’t I ban you from that back in middle school?”
“Yup. You glared at me for all of second period. I’m still scarred.” He plucked a piece of grass and chewed the end. It tasted like summer, like endless days playing baseball in the park. “But face it, girlie. My bike is manly as fuck. Your little Bananamobile wouldn’t stand a chance against a high-performance work of machinery like that.”
She eyed it enviously. “It is a beauty. Can I try it?”
“Sure.” He motioned for her to have at it. She took his beloved Devinci Troy S for a short spin down to the big yucca, where the trail curved out of sight.
He watched her, unable to not watch her. The sight of her ponytail bouncing between her shoulder blades and her shapely legs pumping the pedals made him groan. He knew he’d be picturing that vision the next time he rode his bike. As for his seat, and the way it filled the space between her legs…he smothered a sigh.
When she got back, she wheeled his bike into the rack and dropped down to the grass beside him. “That was amazing. I guess it’s time for a new bike.”
“Just promise me if you decide to get rid of the Bananamobile, you’ll let me know.”
“Why?” She tilted her head at him. Perspiration gleamed on her sun-kissed skin, and he saw that, yes, she did still have freckles. “Not that I’d ever get rid of her, but why?”
“It’s the perfect girl bike. If I ever have a daughter, I know she’d love it.”
She blinked. “Wow. You want my bike for your potential future daughter? You must be serious about having a family.”
Heat crept up his cheeks. “Well, someday. Of course. Is that strange to you?”
“I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I’ve been so focused on getting my degree that I haven’t thought much about things like that. But I suppose that’s the normal course of life. I mean, obviously it is.”
“Says the doctor.”
With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees. One strand of sweat-darkened hair curled at her temple in a perfect loop. “Yes, that medical knowledge really comes in handy, especially for those of us with no real lives. Honestly, you’re the most interesting thing in my social life, and I’m not sure what that says about me.”
Nick scowled at a dude stretching his quadriceps. What the hell did Peyton mean by that comment? Should he be happy she used the word “interesting” or unhappy because of her dismissive tone?
“Nothing against you,” she said quickly. “I’m referring to my social-hermit nature. Once the class geek, always the class geek, I guess.”
He looked at her askance. Was she purposely leaving out the months she’d dated Jack Cooper on purpose? No one had dared call her a geek after Jack had first asked her to the movies. News of that event had traveled through the grapevine like wildfire. Nick himself had nearly thrown up when he’d heard about it.
“And since you’ve been hanging out so much with me, I’m putting you in the social-hermit category too,” she added. “How are you supposed to make any progress with that daughter?”
&n
bsp; Ouch. Somehow, he’d ended up in the friend-iest of all friend zones. Jesus.
He kept the banter going as if he weren’t mentally cringing. “It doesn’t have to be a daughter. Actually, a son could ride that bike too. I plan to be one of those cool parents. The kind that doesn’t flip out over things like boys riding girly bikes.”
“It’s not a girly bike. Okay, maybe it is a girly bike,” she admitted over his hoots of laughter. “But now I’m seriously curious. Where did this fathering urge come from? I feel like I’m still in school. I don’t feel old enough to be a parent, even though of course I realize that I’m practically Jell-O-at-the-old-folks-home age.”
He laughed at that. But clearly she meant her question sincerely. Since they tended to joke around more than talk seriously, maybe this was an opportunity. He decided to open up about something he rarely—make that never—talked about.
“You probably heard rumors about my parents,” he said, after clearing his throat. “They had a strange marriage. An open marriage. I didn’t think it was weird at the time, of course. I didn’t think about it at all. But when I got older, I understood more and it bothered me. There were always strangers showing up in our house. My parents always had tension between them. They fought, and they made up, and then one of them would find someone else, and they’d fight or have a revenge relationship, and the whole cycle would start over again. I was like an afterthought. They didn’t even bother to be discreet around me. Anyway, around the age of fifteen, I kind of figured the whole thing out. And I swore I’d never do that to my kid. I decided that the most important thing I could ever do in my life would be to create a real family and raise a few kids who always knew that their parents put them first. And there you go. My big speech. Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so serious on you.”
“Hey, I asked,” she said softly. “Thank you for telling me all that. I heard stuff in high school but I never paid attention. I think I was too naive to understand it anyway. At least back then. Now I have a medical degree, so I’ve seen it all.”
Forgetting Jack Cooper_The First Love Edition Page 2