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.