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Lips pursed, I met her narrowed gaze, and her expression went slack. “Oh my God, you like her.” She let out a low whistle. “Xander Chase has a heart after all.”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Tash,” I smiled, immediately regretting it. She wasn’t the enemy, but I was miserable and drunk, and fuck, I’d messed up earlier.
But when Bryan had stumbled upon me and Peyton in that alley Saturday night, my natural reaction was to go on the defensive. It was my default setting. The way I’d protected myself over the years.
Now it wasn’t only my feelings I had to protect, it was Peyton’s, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that. All I knew was she deserved more—she deserved a life I could never give her.
“Ha, you wish.” She clapped me on the back. “Been there, got the t-shirt, and I’m not looking for a repeat.”
“Good to know.” I snorted, unconvinced by her bravado.
Tash was like me. Broken. Bruised by her past trauma. She’d never asked for more, but sometimes I caught her looking at me, wondering. I never brought it up though because I wasn’t interested.
“Seriously though, this isn’t like you. Do I need to be worried?”
I knew what she was asking. She’d seen me at my worst more than once.
“No, I’m fine,” I said.
“Well, okay then,” she snatched up her drink and pushed mine toward me. “Drink up and then I’ll let you kick my ass at pool.”
A faint smile traced my lips. In all the years I’d known her, Tash had never come close to beating me. But it didn’t stop her from being a good sport and playing me.
“You’re on,” I said, downing my drink. “Harry, a bottle of water, please.”
“Water, I’m impressed.” Tash teased. “Who knows, maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“You rack up the balls, I’m going for a smoke.”
“Ugh, I spoke too soon,” she grumbled.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
The words rang through me. That’s all I’d ever been. To Cameron, to my team and Coach, to myself… I was almost thirty years old and what did I have to show for it?
Being with Peyton made me want to do better… to be better. But I’d already pushed her away.
She was right. I’d done what I always did when someone started to get too close, or things started to get too hard.
I ran.
Back then, I’d been too young, too self-destructive to see it. But for the first time in my life, I knew I’d fucked up.
The question was, what was I going to do about it?
* * *
“Xander?”Peyton gawked at me as I entered Cindy’s the next afternoon. The whole place had been decked in Christmas tinsel and trinkets. Even Peyton was wearing a small Santa hat attached to a hairpin.
“I mean Welcome to Cindy’s.” She cleared her throat. “Can I get you a table?”
“Yeah, that would be good.”
Grabbing a menu, she motioned for me to follow her. “Is this one okay?”
“It’s fine, thanks.” I slid into the booth and accepted the menu from her, our fingers brushing. Peyton sucked in a sharp breath and quickly snatched her hand away.
“Drink? I mean, what can I get you to drink?” A pink blush tinted her cheeks.
