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

by Heidi McLaughlin

  We climb down the ladder, leaving my beer behind with the intent to come back for it in the morning. I hug Nick and tell him I’ll be by later to see everyone. Dad hands me a helmet and I slip it on before climbing on behind him. The roar of the engine reminds me when I was a child and he’d take me out for rides. Oh, how I wish I could go back to being free again.

  25

  Peyton

  My heart races as I wait for Kyle to show up. It wasn’t easy to get here in the sense that my mother is watching me like a hawk. Seriously, she needs a hobby. I know she thinks I’m fragile, but I’m getting stronger every day and it’s not because of the exercises Xander has me doing, it’s because I know being with Noah is impossible. Deep down I’ve always known, but couldn’t ever bring myself to separate my dreams from reality.

  I watch Kyle as he walks by the window I’m sitting next to. Thankfully, they’re tinted and he can’t see me staring at his ass, let alone the other women who have happened to notice him. Suddenly I’m embarrassed and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s the women at the other table, saying crude things about him or maybe it’s that I’m embarrassed for Kyle because he has to put up with stuff like that.

  The hostess escorts him to the table she sat me at earlier. She touches his arm and throws her head back in mock laughter, almost as if he’s said something funny to her when he hasn’t even taken his eyes off of me.

  Being under his scrutiny is weird. Kyle’s good-looking and a month or so ago, I would’ve jumped at the opportunity to be stared at by him or any other man for that matter, but knowing Noah’s in love with me, leaves a gaping hole in my heart – the part where I would love another – and I’m not sure anyone is going to be able to fill it.

  Kyle bypasses his chair and kisses me on my cheek. He lingers there for a moment, allowing me to breathe in his cologne. There’s no denying my attraction for him, but right now it’s not enough.

  “Thank you for calling,” he says as he sits down. Immediately, he puts his napkin on his lap and pushes his silverware aside so he can rest his elbows on the table.

  “Technically, I texted,” I point out as I try to mirror his posture, but I can’t. Being in a wheelchair prevents me from sitting up higher. In fact, I feel short and awkward.

  “Do you want to sit in the chair?” Kyle points to the vacant chair behind us, where the hostess moved it out of the way.

  I nod eagerly and do my best to pull myself away from the table; all while the women not far from us watch our every move. Kyle picks me up effortlessly as if I weigh nothing and sets me down, maneuvering the chair until I’m pushed in and comfortable.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” How he knew I needed this, I’ll never know because I don’t plan on asking. It’s better to leave the kind gesture alone instead of ruining it with an inquisition. “How do you ignore them?” I ask, motioning to the table behind him. The women have gone from a casual glance over their shoulder to full-on staring. Most likely trying to figure out where they know him.

  “Same as you, probably.”

  “I’m not famous.”

  “Your father is though. You get hounded by the media too.”

  “How do you know? Did you Google me?”

  Kyle smiles and ducks his head, almost as if he’s been caught looking at something he shouldn’t. “I was curious.”

  “Ah, I see. And what did you find?” I’m intrigued, yet I’m not. The one rule my dad imposed on us was that we never look him or our family members up online. He wants to protect us from seeing the negativity that comes with being a celebrity.

  “Let’s see, you have a twin sister and an older, but adopted brother? Your parents aren’t married. You’ve been attending awards shows since you were little. You grew up in Beaumont, which is where Westbury grew up, but considering what you said the other day...”

  He looks at me when he’s done, but I can’t tell if his last bit is a statement or a question. Does he want to know if Noah and I are friends? I’m not sure I can even answer him if that’s the case. I suppose we’ll always be something considering our families are close, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to think of him as extended family. I already told him Noah and I aren’t dating, despite Kyle saying Noah told him to stay away from me.

  “Let’s see… My sister’s name is Elle. My brother is Quinn. My dad adopted my sister and I, and my mom adopted Quinn. My biological father died in a car crash when I was five.”

  Kyle sits back in the chair and his body slumps. I don’t think I need to divulge any more about my familial situation as telling him about my father is enough to shock anyone who knows what’s going on with me. As for Noah, we grew up together, long before my parents got together.

  He nods and reaches for my hand. I give it to him freely, expecting a spark or something when we touch, but there’s nothing and that saddens me a little. “It took me a while to figure out why Liam Page was in the hospital. I kept hearing the nurses talk about him, but nothing online solved the mystery.”

  “He was there because of me. He’s my uncle, more or less.”

  “And you said your real dad died in a car crash?”

  I struggle to smile. Before the accident I never had any qualms speaking about my father, but since… since I saw him, my emotions are all over the place. It’s like the wounds are fresh and even though I barely remembered him from before, I can now. “It’s really not something I’ve ever talked about. For as long as I can remember, my dad Harrison, has been with us. But I know how he died. He was revered in the town we grew up in, and no one let us forget how much he meant to everyone.”

  “That had to be hard.”

  “It was.” Before I can finish, the waitress stops at our table. Kyle hasn’t had an opportunity to look at the menu but doesn’t seem to be deterred. He opens the menu quickly and reels off what he wants.

  “I’ll have the ribeye, medium, potatoes, veggies and a side salad with Italian, and a Coke.”

  “And for you?”

  Now I’m truly embarrassed. “I’ll have the chicken strips and fries, please. And I’ll have water.”

  The waitress glances at me as she writes it down, probably wondering why we’re here if I’m ordering kiddie food. For good measure, I hold up my arm, as if I need the validation to eat finger foods. Once she leaves, Kyle goes back to holding my hand, and once again I feel nothing. “Being here is going against everything my lawyer says, but I don’t care. I wanted to come see you in the hospital, but doing so was highly frowned upon. The police thought it was best if I kept my distance.”

  “So you followed me to California instead?” I jokingly ask.

  “Pure luck. My trainer told me to head out here for rehab. He thought he could make a few calls, throw my name around and I’d get in with Knight, but--”

  “But he’s my uncle and doesn’t have the time.”

  Kyle shakes his head. “You have no idea how lucky you are. He’s like a God when it comes to rehabilitation. Every athlete wants to work with him. But I’m glad you have him.”

  The waitress returns with a basket of rolls and our drinks. Kyle takes one out and slathers it with butter, making my mouth water. I could do the same, but I have this phobia about my cast touching my food. As I start to reach for my own, Kyle extends his arm and in his hand is half the roll. “Thank you,” I tell him before I bite into the warm bread. “Hmm, so good.”

  “It is. Here, I’ll butter the rest. I know you said the other day, but when do you get that off? You said something about x-rays happening?”

  “I thought the appointment was today, but it’s next week. Fingers crossed. I’m ready to itch my arm and leg.”

  He gives me another half of the roll and sticks the other half in his mouth. We continue like this until the basket is empty, and I’m stuffed. “I used one of my dry cleaning coat hangers. You know they still use metal hangers?”

  “I don’t think I noticed, but I’ll have to search my p
arents closet for one. The itching is out of control. I normally use a fork or spoon, but honestly, that grosses me out.” Kyle laughs a little before continuing with the conversation.

  “So tell me, Peyton. What do you like to do for fun? And don’t say football!”

  “No, why not?” I ask teasingly.

  “Because it’s my job and I’m off, and sometimes I want to talk about anything else other than work.”

  “Fair enough. I like to read, surf when I can, listen to music, go shopping. Watch sports.”

  “Oh yeah, which ones?”

  “All of them, but mostly football. It’s what I grew up with.”

  “Watching Westbury, right?”

  I nod and lean forward. “I told you the other day, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know what he said to you, but maybe you took it out of context. But yes, I grew up with Noah. We used to throw the football around in his backyard and for awhile, our high school coach thought I was going to be his next quarterback, but I chose to join the school paper instead and became a sports reporter.”

  Kyle stares at me for a minute before reaching across the table. His fingers brush against my cheek until they slide behind my ear, securing a strand of hair. I’ve taken to wearing my hair on the opposite side to cover up the missing patch of hair and scar.

  The waitress arrives, breaking the connection between us. Instantly, Kyle steals one of my fries, laughing as he does. “Do you want a bite?” he asks, holding a piece of meat on the end of his fork. I nod and lean forward.

  “So good,” I say, trying to keep my mouth covered. “I miss food.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you. If your cast isn’t off by the end of next week, I’ll saw it off for you.”

  Shaking my head. “No, sorry. I’ll tough it out. There’s too much damage…”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. I see the look in his eyes and the pain he’s dealing with. Now I’m the one reaching across the table to try and hold his hand. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s fine, Peyton. I’ve been meaning to ask about your injuries, but part of me doesn’t want to know because I know I caused them.”

  “You didn’t,” I remind him. “The truck did.”

  He nods, but the damage is done. Halfway through our meal, my phone beeps. Normally I wouldn’t check it, but being as I lied to my mom about where I was going, it’s best that I do in case she’s figured out I’m not at the library. Except it’s not from my mom, it’s from Noah.

  You haven’t answered my calls so you leave me with no choice. I’m coming to town after Xmas to see you.

  “Everything okay?” Kyle asks.

  I nod and smile before turning my attention back to the message.

  I don’t want you here.

  I need to explain, Peyton.

  There’s nothing to explain. I write back. I slip it back into my bag. The last thing I want is for Noah to be here.

  “So, where exactly do you live?” I ask Kyle.

  “Ohio, but I’m staying here through rehab.”

  “What about your family? Christmas?”

  “My parents are on a cruise, so it’s just me. I think they were expecting I’d have practice or something.” Kyle tries to play off his injury, but I know it has to be hard for him. Missing out on a season is something that can really mess with an athlete.

  Another text comes in. I glance quickly at my screen and see that it’s Dessie. Pulling my phone out of my bag I read her text quickly. Noah and I thought you should know we’re getting married after the New Year. I read her message twice before I turn my phone off and try to keep the contents of my stomach where they belong. My immediate reaction is to cry, but I don’t want Kyle to ask why. I really shouldn’t shed any more tears over Noah Westbury. He’s made his choice, and it wasn’t me.

  With a halfhearted smile, I say to Kyle, “You should spend Christmas with us. You can bunk with Quinn.”

  Kyle’s eyes light up. “Seriously?”

  I shrug. “As long as you like the beach, surfing, loud music and barbecues, why not? The more the merrier.”

  “I’d love to, Peyton.”

  I refuse to use Kyle to get over Noah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. I have to make things clear to him from the start though because neither of us can afford any more personal damage.

  26

  Noah

  Christmas passed by in a blur. While everyone was celebrating, opening presents and gushing about the gifts they received, I sat by in a daze, wondering how my life changed on a dime. People tried to engage me in conversation, but their words fell on deaf ears. If they told me congratulations, I mumbled thanks and moved to the next room. If they asked me a question, I nodded and proceeded to stare at the floor, the tree or the muted television. If they told me my team sucked, I agreed and didn’t bother to tell them how wrong they were.

  I’m numb and it’s because of Peyton and her text messages to me. I thought for sure I could talk to her, explain why I left her in her hospital room and ask her what I should do, but she doesn’t want to see me. I don’t want you here. Those words have stung hard; have hit me in my heart like no other. I know I deserve them and more, but seeing them typed out so I am forced to reread them over and over again, it does something else to me.

  I’m numb because the woman at the end of the couch is writing down everything she can, with the help of my little sister as she leafs through a bridal magazine. I haven’t found the courage to tell Dessie that the conversation she overheard, the one I was having with my grandma, was me telling her I have no plans to marry Dessie. She misconstrued every single word, screamed yes, kissed me and proceeded to tell everyone in my house we were getting married. Needless to say, you could hear a pin drop because of how quiet everyone was. You would think Dessie would catch on, but she didn’t. She immediately started texting whoever she could, sharing the news.

  The worst part is I can’t seem to find the words to tell her it’s not happening because each time I try, she brings up the baby, and the endless cycle of self-doubt starts all over again. I know she was expecting a ring to be under the tree or in her stocking, but there wasn’t one. She hid her disappointment well though, more than I can say for myself.

  I don’t want to marry Dessie or even be the father of her baby, but I don’t have a choice. The old adage is “stupidity doesn’t get you far” but I can attest it does. Stupidity gets you so far up shit creek there’s no amount of paddling to get you where you need to be.

  The conversation I had with my dads has been nagging me for days. They’ve both tried to show me I could still be a part of the baby’s life without being married to Dessie, but I don’t see how. She lives in Portland because of me, choosing to travel back and forth for her shoots. She’s better off in California or New York, which means she’d move and take the baby with her. Marriage keeps her in the same house, but I’m not sure how this would be fair to her. A loveless marriage isn’t something either of us wants, and despite what she says, if she loved me, she’d see the turmoil I’m going through.

  I look down at my phone, rereading the words I have memorized over and over again. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. Except that’s exactly where I want to be. With Peyton, helping her recover. Not here, in my parents’ home, hiding out because I’m too afraid of what might happen back in Portland. I’m using them as a buffer and they know it.

  My dad walks into the family room and turns the television on. As luck would have it, there’s a game and it seems like he’s poised to watch it. I’m so pissed at myself for the way my season ended. Even if we didn’t stand a chance at the wild card, getting benched for the last game of the season is a blow to my ego. It would be one thing if Coach was trying to save me for next year, but he wasn’t. He was sending a message that he’s done with my piss poor attitude. I half expect him to call me in after the first of the year and give me my w
alking papers.

  “Daddy,” Little B whines out his name. “We’re trying to plan a wedding here.”

  I look away, not wanting to be a part of this conversation.

  “Then go to the dining room or your bedroom.”

  “Daddy.”

  “Betty Paige, I want to watch the game. I’m sorry if it interrupts your play time, but you can go play make-believe somewhere else.”

  My dad’s words are harsh, making me wish I could tell Dessie the same thing. By the time I glance over at her and Little B, they’re gathering their books and leaving the room. Dessie stops in front of me. “Are you coming?”

  I shake my head, which causes her to huff. The last thing I want to do is sit in a room and listen to them prattle on about wedding stuff. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I want to get on a plane and fly to California to see Peyton, and maybe I should. She may be able to offer a little clarity and guidance on what I should do. If she agrees to see me, that is.

  “Dessie, wait,” I say as I get up. She’s halfway up the stairs with Paige. “I have to head back for a meeting. Do you want to come or stay here?” The lie falls too easily.

  She smiles widely. “I’ll stay. I have a lot of preparations to do.” Dessie gives me a little finger wave and continues on her way up the stairs. I wait until she’s out of sight before I go to speak with my father. He’s not exactly pleased because he’s going to have to be the one to tell my mom I left Dessie here.

  The Powell-James condo looms in front of me. The wrought iron gate is locked and the code I used to use when we were all younger no longer works. I have no choice but to either access them from the beach or press the buzzer. The problem with walking along a private beach is someone is likely to see me and alert the authorities. Most of the neighbors around here know and look out for each other. The issue with being buzzed in though is the chance that Peyton is the one to answer the call and I have no doubt she’ll tell me to go away.