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“You were rude to him.”
“He almost killed you. I think I’m entitled. Now push.”
I do as he says. “The truck almost killed me. Not Kyle. Did he really ask you to work with him?”
“Don’t know. Everything goes through my assistant. I told her to clear time for you though.” He stands next to the machine and adjusts my form with each push.
“Would you really have me with another trainer?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow at him.
“Never. You’re too precious.”
“You’re mushy.” I stop pushing so he’ll look at me. “I love you. Thank you for fixing me.”
Xander squats down. “I love you, P. Now push.”
This is how the rest of my morning goes. Push, pull, sit-up, and repeat. By the end of my session, muscles I’ve never used before are screaming at me, telling me how much they hate me right now. What I hate is the embarrassment I feel sitting in my wheelchair while I wait for my driver to get here. Xander wouldn’t let me sit outside, afraid I’d get kidnapped, my chair would get jacked or God forbid, someone snapped a picture of Harrison James’ daughter panhandling on the street corner.
The only satisfying thing about being here right now is I get to watch others work. I’ve also noticed Kyle is moving closer and closer to where I’m waiting. A few of the other guys have stopped and talked to me, one of them being Noah’s friend, Julius. I was tempted to ask him about Noah, but I don’t want to care. He clearly didn’t care enough about me when he made his decision.
“Hey,” Kyle says as he sets his towel on the machine near me. “How long are you in the chair for?”
“X-rays tomorrow. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll be in a boot like you.” Even if I am, I doubt I’ll be out of the chair.
Kyle looks down at his foot before back at me. “I’m really sorry, Peyton.”
“I know.”
He shakes his head and crouches down so we’re eye level. “No, I don’t think you do. I told my lawyer to pay for all your medical expenses. I don’t care if doing so makes me look guilty. I feel responsible.”
“You don’t have to do that, Kyle. My dad–”
“Oh, I learned real quick who your dad is. When I asked you out, I didn’t know you were Noah Westbury’s girlfriend either.”
My head snaps. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Westbury, he came to see me, told me to stay away.”
I guffaw. “He’s not my boyfriend. Never has been. I’m single and ready to mingle.” My eyes go wide and I cover my mouth. “I didn’t mean the last part.”
Kyle smiles. “The part about being single?”
“No, I’m definitely single.”
“Perfect.” Kyle doesn’t say anything else. He stands and turns toward his apparatus and starts his workout. I’m content to sit there and watch him, but as my luck would have it, my driver shows up.
“Oh hey, before I go. How’d you get my number?”
He pauses halfway through a pull-up. “Bob.”
“The orderly?”
“Old friend of mine.” He winks and continues to show off his upper body strength.
“Bob, huh?” I say to myself.
“No, I’m Dale, your driver,” the man standing next to me says.
“Right, well we can go now,” I tell Dale, even though my eyes are set on Kyle.
24
Noah
I can’t remember the last time I drove my dad’s truck to the water tower. Thinking back, it must’ve been at the end of my junior year or possibly homecoming my senior year. The carefree days of high school are long gone, replaced by the reality of being an adult and having to make decisions that affect everyone around you.
I finish my beer and let the bottle fall from my fingertips. The sound of shattering glass echoes over the empty field. Thankfully, I’m the only one here. I’m relieved I don’t have to answer questions about my life and the NFL or be told how lucky I am to be dating Dessie. My life is a mess and I don’t see it getting better anytime soon.
The moment Dessie and I walked into my parents’ house, she spread her arms out wide and rushed to my mother, blurting out, “we’re pregnant.” The wide-eyed look my mother gave me spoke volumes. In fact, the screaming in her head was loud enough for my father and I to hear, and that’s when I left. I hopped in his truck, stopped at the store for a case of beer and came to the only place where Dessie would never be able to find me.
Popping the top on another, I let the cold liquid pour down the back of my throat, swallowing as fast as I can. Beer escapes from the corner of my mouth and drips down my cheek and neck until my jacket catches it. I haven’t been drunk in such a long time and I’ve forgotten what it feels like to start feeling numb. This kind of numbness is different from the way I felt when Peyton was lying there, helpless and dying. When I saw her, my world crashed. My heart stopped beating. It was like I was in a tunnel, chasing after her, but each mile I gained on her, she put two more between us.
