Holding Onto Forever (The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Book 1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

Of course he is. I pat him on the shoulder. “No problem.”

  “Sabrina, looks like you’re riding with me,” I say, much to Alex’s dismay.

  “Real smooth, Westbury.”

  I flip him off before motioning for Sabrina to follow me out to my SUV. I thought about getting a sports car like a few of my teammates but didn’t feel secure enough in one, plus there is never enough room to carry my stuff. I open the door for her and wait for her to climb in before shutting it and going to the back to put my bag back there. I’m hoping that she’s far enough away that the stench of my gym clothes won’t make her sick.

  “Sorry about earlier,” I tell her. “I had to take a call from home.”

  “Girlfriend?” she asks, rather unabashedly.

  I shake my head. “Not exactly.” It was hard to explain what Peyton was to me because I always felt in limbo with her. We were friends, best friends in fact, but there were times when I wanted more but was too afraid to proceed. It’s not that I thought she’d turn me down, but more so of how Katelyn and Harrison would feel. Our age difference as of right now is a bit much I think socially. I know my agent would have a field day if I started dating an eighteen-year-old so I tell myself I’m going to wait until she’s twenty-one.

  “What does that mean?” she asks as I pull out onto the road behind Alex.

  “I don’t know. I have always had feelings for this girl I grew up with. They started when I was about fifteen, but she’s much younger than I am and the timing isn’t right.”

  “Are you waiting for her?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’ve dated and had semi-steady relationships, but those women didn’t like her or like that I’m there whenever she needs me. She’s my best friend.” I don’t know why, but I find myself telling this poor woman everything.

  “Wow, she must be some girl.”

  “She is.”

  And she still is. Deep down I think she’s the reason why I haven’t asked Dessie to marry me yet because I’m holding out hope that Peyton is going to tell me someday that she wants to be with me.

  But looking at her now, I don’t know if we’ll ever get the chance. My heart breaks thinking that we’ve wasted two years when we could’ve been together. The night of her prom, the night everything really changed for us, is when I should’ve asked her to be mine, but she was so excited about college and finally being away from everything in Beaumont that I couldn’t bring myself to put the pressure of a long distance relationship on her. And now it may be too late.

  7

  Peyton

  I’m in front of Noah, trying to push my sister away. She’s consoling him when it should be me. It’s always been me that he’s come to when he’s felt like the world was crashing around him. It was my window that he snuck into at night when he had a major test in the morning and couldn’t fall asleep. Not Elle’s. Not even Dessie’s. He used to tell me about their relationship. He used to confide in me until they became serious. Most of the time I’ve wanted to scream at him, to tell him that I don’t care, and that I hate her, but I don’t. I listened. I pretended I care about her when I don’t.

  I glance back at the bed where my body lies. My mom’s head is rested on my shoulder. She strokes my hair, careful to stay away from the wound on the other side. Aunt Josie now holds my mom and they both cry, but my sister, she’s still here, stuck to Noah’s side. It makes me wonder if she will become his confidant when I’m no longer here.

  Noah finally sits down but hangs onto the edge of my bed. His knuckles turn white and his jaw clenches. He’s angry. I know this look from anywhere. I’ve seen him lash out at people before, especially when he thinks they’ve wronged me. I have no doubt if he finds out about Kyle, he’ll… well I don’t know what he’ll do. I’m not sure if I want him to know about Kyle, It’s stupid really because he has Dessie. It’s only fair that I have someone. Even if the one I want doesn’t want me.

  Noah hasn’t stopped looking at me. I hate it. This isn’t how he’s supposed to see me. He’s supposed to see me smiling, laughing and running to embrace him because we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. I’m trying to hold his face, but his tears make my hands slip away. Noah doesn’t like to cry, not when people are around him. He’s only done it once and that was when he was hit so badly during a game that his leg buckled and everyone thought he tore his ACL. He didn’t. He was lucky according to the doctor.

  He closes his eyes and mutters something unintelligible. “Please say it again?” I beg, but he doesn’t hear me. Honestly, I’m getting rather pissed that no one can hear me. Am I dead, because if I am, shouldn’t I be able to throw things around to get attention? That’s what Patrick Swayze did in Ghost. And where’s my father or his mother? I would like to think at least my father would be here, watching everything transpire. Isn’t he always supposed to be watching over Elle and I? That’s what everyone told us at his funeral. I may have been five, but I remember that day and those surrounding his death very clearly.

  Death is nothing like they show you in the movies, aside from your family sitting by your bedside, crying and praying, which I don’t get because my family has never been religious. We’ve been to church, but mostly for special occasions. But where’s the bright light directing me to where I need to go? Where’s my father? Shouldn’t he be here to guide me, hold my hand while I crossover?

  “Noah, you need to tell her. We think she’s waiting for you.” I hear my sister mutter into Noah’s ear.

  “Don’t listen to her, Noah,” I plead. “Tell me to hang on. Tell me to fight.”

  But he says nothing. He leans forward, and his tall frame causes his knees to crash into the metal bars at the end of my bed. His hand touches my foot. I can see it, but I can’t feel him. “May I have a minute with her?” he asks.

  Everyone looks at him with sad, blood-shot eyes. Elle is the first one to leave, followed by Josie. When my mom staggers away, Noah stands and pulls her into his arms. He’s like his father in a lot of ways, but he’s also different from the stories I’ve heard over the years about Liam. My uncle hasn’t been shy about his actions when he was eighteen, telling all of us about the mistakes that nearly cost him everything. I asked him once if he regretted anything and he said no. I thought he would say yes because he missed so much, but he said that he wouldn’t have been a very good husband or father to Noah, that he needed to leave so he could grow up. He only hates that he waited so long to return.

  “She loves you, Noah,” my mom says. I do. I do love Noah. I always have, but… well, I don’t know. There was a time when I thought we’d be together, when I was fairly certain he was going to ask me to be his girlfriend, but he didn’t.

  I know it was because of our age difference and our families. While some may not think five years is much of a gap, it is when you’ve grown up with them. People often comment that Noah and I are like brother and sister. The thought makes me shudder. I will never consider him like my brother. Ever.

  After my mom leaves, Noah sits in the chair next to my bed. He slides his hand under mine and rests his head on my torso. If he knew what I looked like under that blanket, he wouldn’t touch me. My chest is battered. It’s bloody, scarred and beyond damaged.

  The beeping of the machine gets my attention. Red numbers flash and move upward. Noah laughs. “You know I’m here, right Peyton?”

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  “I wish this were a nightmare, that we were talking on the phone right now so you could tell me everything I did wrong in my game.”

  “I didn’t watch it,” I say. “I was on the sidelines with the Bears. It was the most amazing feeling ever. I’m sorry I missed your game though.”

  “I need you in my life, Peyton. You can’t leave me. I don’t care what my mom and Elle tell me. I won’t tell you it’s okay to go. I’m selfish. I know.” Noah stops talking and runs his free hand through my hair. There have been times when I thought I’d cut it, but he likes it.

  “Everything will be o
kay, Noah.” I go to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His body shakes and he mutters my name over and over again. I can’t console him, not the way I want to. He can’t feel me, only the lifeless version that lies on the bed with tubes coming out of her mouth and arm, and machines keeping her alive.

  “I refuse to give up,” he tells my body. “Please find the will to live.”

  “I’m trying!” I want to scream at him. What does he think I’m doing? Throwing a party someplace between here and there, wherever there may be. I decide to sit on my bed, facing Noah and take his hand in mine, as much as I can. “Do you remember your first college game? I do. You were amazing and set the record for most passes completed by a freshman in Irish history, but that’s isn’t what stands out the most. What is still clear to this day is the excitement in your voice when you called me the second you got into the locker room. I knew you had violated the rules, but you didn’t care that you would have to run the snake twice at practice. Hearing your voice that day, it made me feel like I was there with you, cheering you on from the stands. I may have been thirteen at the time, but I was so in love with you.

  “What about the time when I surprised you on campus by showing up at that frat party? You were so pissed off at me. I thought for sure you were going to call my parents, but you didn’t. You put your arm around me and held me to your side all night long. I knew you were only protecting me, but deep down I kept telling myself that it was because you were in love with me. It’s not like you could’ve told your friends because I was only sixteen, and you had a girlfriend. That night she told you to choose me or over her, and you chose me. You have every time and then you met Dessie. I can’t compete with her, Noah. She’s beautiful and exactly who any starting NFL quarterback needs to have on his arm.

  “Deep down, I know you’re going to ask her to marry you, to be your wife and have your children. All things that I’ve wanted for myself, but know that I can never have. I’m going to cry when you do. My heart will break more so than any other time you’ve dated someone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to recover. Maybe I should let go, and be free from the pain my body is in now and prevent the devastation that will come later. If I’m not here, it can’t hurt, right? Haunting her seems more fun to me right now because I hate her, Noah. I hate the way she makes me feel when she’s in the room. I detest that she commands your attention and you give it to her. I know you love her though, which is why when Kyle asked me out, I said yes.

  “I could’ve easily liked him if given the chance, but that truck… Kyle didn’t see it. He’s here, in the hospital. He wants to come see me but his lawyer won’t let him. He’s not you though, Noah.” I run my hand through his hair, wishing I could feel it move between my fingers. It’s been so long since I’ve held him the way I’ve wanted. He closes his eyes and for a moment I think he’s leaning into my touch.

  “It’s like I can feel you here, Peyton.” Noah laughs and shakes his head.

  “What’s so funny, Noah?”

  He doesn’t answer. Not that I expected him to.

  “I feel like I should confess my sins to you or remind you of the things we’ve done together so you don’t leave. I have so many memories of us, but the most important one has always been the night of your prom. Even though you don’t think so, I was so happy to take you. You were the most beautiful girl in the room that night and every guy wanted to dance with you, but for one moment, you were mine.”

  “That night,” Noah pauses and I lean forward, waiting for him to finish. “You asked me to rent a hotel room and I did, knowing exactly what you wanted. What you gave me that night, Peyton, I’ll never forget it. I thought that things would change for us, but days after you were so excited about college that there was no way I could burden you with being with me. I wanted you to experience everything that I had, and now I fear it’s too late. If you can hear me, I’m begging you, please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I can give you in return for staying, but I’ll do anything, just stay.”

  “I love you, Noah. That night we spent together was the most magical night of my life. I want to stay. I want to be here with you, I don’t want you to marry Dessie.”

  Noah turns toward the door at the sound of my uncle Liam clearing his throat. He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s glaring at his son. Tension fills the room, but neither of them moves from their positions.

  “What’d she give you?”

  “Um…” Noah doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns his attention back to me.

  “You took her virginity, didn’t you?” he asks, and even though I’m not technically here, I feel the scrutiny under his gaze.

  “She was eighteen, Dad.”

  “That’s very noble of you to wait until she was an adult.”

  Noah turns back and looks at me. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Liam comes into my room. He towers over Noah and I. “There isn’t any justification, Noah. You’ve known her all her life. You’re supposed to protect her. She’s a sister to you.”

  Noah stands, the force of his movement pushes the chair into the wall of my cramped room. “Don’t,” he says, pointing his finger at his dad. “For as long as I can remember everyone has said Peyton is my sister, but I have never seen her like that. Ever. No one understands the relationship that we have except for us.”

  “Noah…”

  He holds his hand up. “Please, I asked for a few minutes alone with her. Unlike everyone else, I won’t tell her it’s okay to go. I’m going to remind her why she needs to stay.”

  Liam leaves, but not before taking one more look at me. I can tell that this particular conversation isn’t over yet though. As soon as Noah sits back down, his face morphs back into the sad smile he’s been sporting.

  “Sorry about that, Peyton. Now where were we?”

  “You were about to tell me that you won’t marry Dessie,” I say as loud as my voice will carry, but still he doesn’t hear me.

  8

  Noah

  The smile I wear is forced. There isn’t a single thing I’m happy about right now. Be it, my best friend lies motionless in her bed or the fact my father heard me admit to something only Peyton and I are aware of. I’m assuming she hasn’t told her sister although I've often wondered whether Peyton told Elle about prom night or if Elle asked where we ran off to.

  “I can’t believe you came home to take her to prom,” Mom says as she straightens my bow tie. When I called to tell her, she thought I was joking, but quickly realized I was serious. Thing is, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Peyton. I likely would’ve done the same for Elle, but she’s never had a problem getting a date. My friendship with Peyton has always put a damper on her dating life, not that I’m complaining.

  “She’s a senior and needs to experience everything.” If I were living back in Beaumont, this wouldn’t even be an issue, but I’ve made Portland my home. It’s easier to stay there, especially with my off-season regimen. After my first year in the league, I felt that I was lacking the right speed and strength to compete at the highest level. My coach was thrilled I recognized I needed improvement and set me up with one of the best trainers in the business. The constant work makes it nearly impossible to visit my parents.

  My manager wasn’t very happy when I called and told him that I was traveling home, mainly for the fact that I wouldn’t be readily available for a benefit dinner this weekend. Even with most of the team living in town, many vacationed or went back to their hometowns. Plus, the bigger draw for attendance is always the quarterback. I didn’t even tell him what I was doing while at home, just I wouldn’t be around this weekend.

  “Well, Peyton will have the best looking date there.” My mom is biased. But what parent isn’t? For me, escorting Peyton to prom is something I wanted to do five years ago, but with her being thirteen at the time, it wouldn’t have gone over well at all. I hate our age difference. I don’t see her as being five years younger, but everyone else
does and they’re none too shy about reminding me of it. And if it’s not her age, they’re commenting about how she’s my sister. I have never looked at her like a sister. Elle, yes, but never Peyton.

  When we were younger, we were always together. But it wasn’t until her father died, did I realize that her pain was my pain. She was losing her dad, while I was gaining mine. What should’ve been a happy time for me was confusing. At first, I was jealous that she attached herself to my dad, but I had done the same thing. While I had Nick, Mason and I were very close, and when he died, Peyton had no one and I knew she needed someone.

  I became that someone. I became her protector. Her confidant. She became my best friend. She was, and still is, the one person I will drop everything for, without question, with the exception of Betty Paige. Not even my parents get that sort of attention from me.

  And I developed feelings for her, feelings that I’ve had to hide and will continue to hide out of respect for our families, and for Peyton. She has a bright future waiting for her. The last thing she needs is my muddled thoughts deterring her path.

  “You look handsome, Noah.” The sound of my little sister’s voice rings out from behind me.

  “Yes he does,” my mom says as she stands behind me and straightens my tuxedo jacket, brushing her hands along my shoulders. She’s trying to stay out of the mirror, knowing her reflection will show she’s tearing up. She was a mess when I went to prom back in high school, and deep down I want to believe she understands why taking Peyton is so important to me.

  “Come here, Little B.” She does as I ask, making sure to jump when she gets to the bottom step. My mother rolls her eyes and mutters something about breaking a leg before leaving us alone in the foyer. From the day my father bought this house, I’ve always jumped off the last few steps and so far I haven’t broken anything. Well, except for the vase that my grandma Bianca had set down. I may have kicked that, but still to this day I plead the fifth.