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Two days.
Payton has been gone for two damned days.
The first thing I did when I got home that night was try to find her. I called her a bunch of times, but she never answered. She’s ignoring my texts too.
A part of me, a very big part of me, wants to call Jax, but seeing as he’s been clear on his feeling about tracking her, I know he won’t help me on this.
I’m sure she’s okay, but with everything happening with Paul, I just want to make sure. That last time anyone has seen her was at the presentation. Apparently, she stormed out of there. Which makes sense, seeing as I kissed her and then left her standing in the hallway like a dick.
I’m trying to give her space, but at the same time, my mother’s words unnerve me.
Pacing my room, I grab my phone and dial the one person I haven’t wanted to burden with all my Payton shit because deep down, I know she wouldn’t approve. I call her anyway because the truth is, she is the only person who’s always been there for me and will be able to help.
“Trent. Took you long enough to call,” Ivy answers.
“Hey, sis.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not true. I’ve just been—”
“Trent Aldridge,” she scolds, and I’m transported back to elementary school when she used to mimic Mom’s tone whenever I got into trouble. Which, admittedly, was a lot once Dad thought it was a good idea to make me into a man and toughen me up. Apparently, kindness is for pussies. “You’re my big bro. Don’t you think I know when you’re lying?”
“Fine. I’ve been avoiding you.”
She laughs at my brutally honest answer. “Spill.”
And I do. I start from the beginning, rushing through the entire ordeal because I’m desperate to get to Payton. Sue me.
“I knew you wouldn’t approve,” I say when I finish.
“Oh, really? You thought tormenting an innocent girl would bother me?” She’s laying on the sarcasm heavier than I appreciate, but my actions asked for it.
I shrug. “Yes.”
“At least you have the decency to sound sheepish.”
We settle into silence.
She breaks it with a soft sigh. “Why are you calling, Trent? I know it’s not just because you miss me.”
“I don’t know what to do . . . about her.”
“You need me to tell you it’s okay that you like her.”
“No,” I respond, too fast.
“Then what?”
I clear my throat, scratching at the skin of my neck. “I need you to forgive me.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I didn’t protect you.”
It’s the big regret of my life. The one I’ll feel every morning when I wake up. And every night when I go to bed.
I didn’t protect my baby sister.
