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How does he know what Xander wants? Who says I’m not strong now? I’m strong enough to stay away from him, to not bend and ask him to choose me over Dessie. If refraining from making a fool out of myself isn’t some major strength, I don’t know what is because saying those words, to beg him to give us a chance would be so easy.
“Look, Peyton. I know we’re not on the same page right now and maybe we won’t be for a long time, but I still value your opinion and I need your help.”
I continue to stare at the road, the houses across from me, the tree branches swaying in the light breeze, anything but him.
Noah clears his throat. “I was benched for my last game. My performance… it took a hit after you were in the accident. I was afraid to lose you and even though I’m right here sitting next to you, I’ve lost you anyway. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need you. I do. For years, you’ve told me what’s wrong with my game, and if I don’t fix the issues this time, I’m likely going to be traded or regulated to being a backup. You and I both know I’ve worked too hard to let my career slip like this.”
“Maybe you could try baseball. You wouldn’t be the first player to do so. Bo Jackson had a pretty decent career in both sports.”
“You’re right, he did. I’m sure Nick would love it.”
I’m sure all the women would love it, and you’d never be home with Dessie.
“I need your help, Peyton.”
I look at him and scoff. “What? You want me to watch game film? Do you think I have time for that?” I do. I totally do because I have nothing else to do.
“Actually, I was thinking you could come with me. Nick gave me the keys to the storage shed and I thought I’d get the snap machine out, put the net up and even let you beat me with a bump stick.”
“I do like the idea of beating you,” I tell him. He smiles, but I don’t because let’s face it, I’m not joking. “However, I can’t stand on my own for very long so I’d be useless.”
He nods. “I asked your mom if it’d be okay, she said it was up to you. She thought you’d like to get out for a bit.”
Of course she did because she wants to see me happy. She doesn’t know Noah is the source of my pain that my injuries pale in comparison to the heartache I feel. “I should tell you to figure it out yourself, and if you fail, it’s on you.”
“I know.”
“But I won’t, and you know this. You’re playing on my weakness and I hate you right now.”
“I know,” he says softly with his eyes trained on me. I feel an onslaught of tears coming so I look away and nod.
“One condition.”
“Anything.”
“When I’m done, I’m done. You’ll bring me home with no questions asked.”
“Of course, Peyton.” Noah smiles like he’s been triumphant. He has, but I’ll never tell him.
“I’m sorry, I have another condition.”
“Let’s hear it,” he says, angling his body toward mine.
I look him square in the eyes, wishing I could get lost in his blue eyes. “No Dessie. If she’s going to be there…” I don’t know what I’ll do considering I can’t walk home. I could scoot home though, or at least far enough away from the school to wait for my parents.
Noah grabs for my hand, and I let him. “Just us, Peyton.”
“Here’s the deal. I can’t do stairs so you have to carry me. If you mock, tease or steal my walker, I’ll maim you. Got it?”
Noah laughs. “I got it, captain.”
Captain. He hasn’t called me that in years. I haven’t realized until this moment how much I’ve missed it. When he was named captain his sophomore year, he gave me the title, saying I earned it too, so we’d share it. Back then the five-year age difference was huge. My friends and I used to sit about and gush about how cute Noah was or they’d all want to come over when Quinn was having a birthday party so they could not only see my brother but his friend as well. Elle and I learned rather quickly that having an older brother was not beneficial in the friends department.
Noah takes my walker and sets it in the back of his truck. “Does this thing have brakes or something to keep it from rolling?”
“Yeah, on the wheels,” I yell. I find myself laughing as I watch him fumble around.
“Got it.” Noah shakes it back and forth for good measure, and then he goes to the door and opens it. Against my better judgment, my eyes are focused on him the entire time, at the way his shirt moves against his muscles and the long strides he takes to get up the stairs quickly. Everything about him is ingrained in my mind. “All right. Are you ready? Do you need anything?”
