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In hindsight, I would’ve been home this week no matter what, but things would’ve been different. Normally, I’d be able to come and go as I please, but now I’m stuck, literally, in the sand, sitting in a wheelchair, without an escape.
After Christmas, I start physical therapy. Interesting considering I still have both casts on, but Xander says we need to strengthen my core and my left side. He’s afraid the weakened state of my body will result in further injuries and he’d like to prevent those from happening. I agree. Being immobile and having to depend on others isn’t my idea of a good time.
Ben comes out of the water and strips out of his wetsuit. The arms dangle at his sides, making him look like an odd octopus. He walks toward me, slamming his board into the sand, and sitting down next to me.
“I suppose your sister isn’t home?”
“Nope, and you’re here. Doesn’t that make you feel sort of odd?”
“Quinn invited me.” He nods toward the water where Quinn and my dad are riding a wave. “Not that I expect you to find out, but has Elle said anything about who she’s dating?”
I shake my head slowly and glance down at Ben. Since our chat in the hospital, we’ve grown closer as friends. I can confide in him about my feelings for Noah, and he does the same when it comes to Elle. “Nothing. I even asked her one night and she became defensive.”
“I don’t know why she won’t tell me. It’s not like she hasn’t dated before.”
“Maybe it’s someone you know or won’t approve of.”
Ben nods and lies back on the beach blanket. I feel bad for him. He’s been in love with Elle for so long and the feeling isn’t mutual. It sucks being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. It’s worse when the other person loves you but chose someone else. I don’t blame Noah, yet I do. I’m so mad at him for telling me how he feels, for kissing me, and then walking away without an explanation. But I know why he did it. I know how he struggled with Nick and Liam, both wanting to be his dad. He confided in me years ago about how classmates used to tease him because Nick wasn’t his real father. It’s one of those things where everyone in town knew he was Liam Page’s son, except for him, until my father died and Liam showed up. Everything changed then.
My mom comes out of the house and hollers to Dad and Quinn, telling him lunch is ready. “Ben, are you joining us?”
“Yes, Mrs. KPJ.”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname he’s given her. Ben is polite and insists on calling my parents by their last names, but I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Powell-James is a mouthful. He’s been told numerous times to call them Katelyn and Harrison, but he refuses and instead started calling them by their initials. My parents don’t seem to mind though because they really like Ben. I think they’re waiting for Elle to open her eyes as well to see what’s in front of her.
Quinn and my dad walk out of the water and drop their suits, much like Ben did. I giggle at my own inside joke, thinking we have a house full of squid.
“What’s so funny?” Quinn asks as he rights his board.
“You look like an octopus,” I tell him. He shakes his hair, letting the saltwater spray all over me. “A giant hairy one.” I scream as he picks me up out of my wheelchair and starts running toward the water. “Quinn, Mom will kill you.” I clutch onto his neck as hard as I can, but with one arm, it’s about useless. If he wanted, he could drop me and there wouldn’t be anything I could about it.
“I’m not going to drop you,” he says as he wades out into the water. “I thought you’d like to come out and at least feel the breeze. You can tell me you don’t miss this, but I know you do. You talk about missing Chicago, but it’s peaceful here. No stress. No one’s clamoring to take your photo when the band releases a new album. You can hear for miles with no traffic or noise.”
“I can hide in Chicago.”
“You can hide here, Peyton. He’s not going to show up.” As far as I know, Quinn has no knowledge of what went down between Noah and I, unless I talk in my sleep and he’s been listening. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, getting lost in the ebb and flow of the waves. Quinn’s grip on me is tight, never wavering.
We stay there until we hear our dad whistle. The spot where we were sitting is clean, my chair likely in our house. Inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and marinara sauce causes my stomach to growl loudly.
