It wasn’t over.
“The point is, I care about you, and I’m enjoying your company,” I said, distrusting myself to get in too deep with Peyton about her new man-toy. I shifted on the bed, wincing as pain traveled through my knee and up my leg, but even then, the physical pain was dulled slightly by the emotional euphoria of just hearing her voice.
“I don’t have much time to hang out,” Peyton said softly. “It’s my mom, Korbin. I didn’t tell you earlier but should tell you now. She started chemotherapy this week. It’s breast cancer. That’s—that’s why I’m here. And that’s why your friend Amanda knew her name.”
A tight knot formed in my throat, and I swallowed, reaching my free hand up to rub the ache beginning in my temple. “Susan is sick?” I asked, and I could almost see Peyton nod on the other side of the phone. She was probably staring at the wall, trying not to cry. Ever the strong woman, Peyton Blake, but her mother was a whole different ballgame. Before I’d come into the picture, Peyton had singlehandedly been raised by her mother the day her sperm donor—or father, as Peyton insisted I call him—walked out on them. Peyton’s relationship with her mother would outlive even ours, and I’d always come second to Susan. I never minded, though, because my tight-knit family had been the same.
“Yes, she’s sick. She already had surgery, but they couldn’t get it all. That’s why I’m here in Eagle River, Korbin. That’s why I took leave from my life and job to be here. It’s to take care of my mother, not play teenage romance games with you.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I teased, but Peyton didn’t laugh. “Peyton, I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I really am. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t think there’s really anything you can do,” she said, and I knew she wasn’t being bitter or petty. If there was something I could have done to help, she would have told me. “I just need to be here for her and not off galivanting with you.”
“Galivanting?” I repeated. “I don’t do that.”
Peyton sighed on the other end of the line, and I could almost see her rolling her eyes at me.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “My focus has to be on her right now, not anyone else.”
“Not even the guy you just told me about?”
A slight growl of anger bubbled up from Peyton’s throat, and I knew she wanted to throttle me. “Who I do and do not see is none of your business. None. Do you understand that?”
“Sure, Peyton.”
“I have to go,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait,” I said, hoping she hadn’t already hung up. “Would it help if I started coming over there to see you? Then you wouldn’t even have to leave the house. I could help you with Susan.”
A beat of silence, and then, “Why, so I can take care of you, too?”
I laughed, and Peyton chuckled. I loved that sound.
“How about tomorrow?” I asked. “What time are you off work?”
“Five.”
“What if I bring dinner? I wouldn’t mind seeing Susan, too. I’ve missed her.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Friends only,” I promised her. “I won’t even ask you about your new boyfriend.”
I was sure Peyton would deny me for a moment, but then she sighed softly. “Fine. Dinner tomorrow. Bring something. Are you going to walk, or do you have a ride?”
“I’ll get a ride,” I told her. “Don’t you worry about that. How about six?”
“Okay,” she said with another small sigh. Sighing seemed to be her most current language. “Tomorrow evening at six.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone, leaving me wishing that I was over there with her instead, comforting her, holding her when she needed me the most. But it could wait until tomorrow, even if I didn’t want to. Taking this slow was a good idea. I didn’t want to anger or annoy her, or come on too strong before we had things sorted. I was treading on dangerous territory with Peyton, and I wasn’t going to fuck this up again.
With a content grin, I rested my head against the pillow beneath me, closing my eyes to recenter my emotions. Seeing Peyton again brought up a million different emotions that I couldn’t quite place. Happiness. Excitement. Sadness. A deep, longing desire to have her back in my arms, back in my life. But at the same time, I also knew that wasn’t realistic. What would happen if Susan got better—or worse yet, didn’t survive? Peyton would leave. She’d go home, and I’d stay here, and we’d be in the exact same position we were in all those years ago when she threw the ring at my face and ordered me gone the night of graduation. So, what would happen now? Could I really break her heart again? Could I surviveherleaving this time?
My phone buzzed from where it was sitting on my stomach, and I raised the cell to look at the screen.
You better bring some wine,the text said.I might need it.
Grinning, I texted back a reply and sent it, feeling once more like a sixteen-year-old boy texting his high school crush. Something about talking to Peyton made the moment better, and we ended up texting each other all night long, until she fell asleep at about three in the morning. I fell asleep still smiling, dreaming of how it would feel to hold Peyton in my arms again, to lay with her, to touch her, hold her,feelher.
