For the first time in my life, I hate Beaumont. It breaks my heart to even think this, but being in the same location as Noah and Dessie makes me long for the solitude of the condo or the active life of my sorority. The only positive is I can move about our former house with ease. Quinn thought it would be funny to, in fact, buy me the Rollator. It’s hot pink with a bell. I hate it, and secretly love it because it gives me the ability to move from room to room without having my parents hovering, hoping I don’t fall.

But being here makes it hard to escape. My mom has been going on and on about this wedding, mostly because my aunt Josie is stressed and my mom is trying to help her stay calm. With my mom constantly with Josie and my dad with Liam, I’m left to my own devices. I still can’t drive and can barely walk on my own which makes me completely dependent upon others.

There used to be a time when I loved sitting out on our covered porch. Back when Noah was in high school, my parents had a massive sign in our yard letting everyone know we supported Beaumont High and Noah Westbury. I look around now and see the names of kids Elle and I used to babysit, being honored by their parents, reminding me of how simple life was when I was in high school. I didn’t have to worry about anything and when I needed something, Noah was always there.

Quinn and Elle will arrive tomorrow. I don’t know if either of them are a part of the ceremony, and honestly, I don’t care. I’m not going. Even if I have to pretend I have the stomach flu or am in an incredible amount of make-believe pain – I’m not going. I refuse. Although, standing up when the minister asks if someone objects does sound like a fun way to ruin their wedding day. I’m not petty, even though I want to be. My parents would be shocked and I’m not sure I’m ready to explain myself to them where Noah is concerned.

Speaking of Noah, he’s walking up my front steps. I knew sitting outside on the porch was a mistake, and as much as I’d love to run into the house, I’d never make it.

“Hey, Peyton,” he says as he leans against the post with his hands pushed into the pockets of his track pants.

“Hey.” I avoid eye contact as best I can. I don’t want to look at his new haircut or wonder what it feels like to touch his five o’clock shadow.

“Your mom said you’re doing really well in therapy.” Noah sits down next to me but keeps a healthy space between us.

“I have a good therapist who doesn’t care if he’s killing me day after day.”

“He loves you. Xander only wants to see you strong again.”

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?”

I shake my head and reach my arms out. I could walk a little with his assistance, but I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to be held by him. It’ll be my last time ever and as much as it’ll torture me later, this is what I want.

Noah cradles me to his chest. I refuse to read anything into the gesture, and can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like to be carried to bed by him. If I’m going to survive today, I need to look at everything objectively and remind myself he’s getting married this weekend. He chose someone else.

He sets me down in the truck and rushes around to the other side. “Do you remember the last time you were in here?” he asks as he pulls away from the curb.

Yes, I think but don’t say it out loud.

Noah turns down the radio, so it’s just us with our breathing, sighing, and the outside traffic to clog my brain with noise. He pulls up to the stoplight and someone yells his name. This is small town life at its best right here.

“My dad knows, Peyton.”

“Knows what?”

“About us. Prom night.”

I chose to stare out the window instead of him. I guess I didn’t realize losing my virginity would be a hot topic for the Westbury men.

“When you were in the coma, I was talking to you. I was trying to bring up happy memories, at least those I consider happy, and prom night was one of them.”

As he drives forward, I continue to stare out the window.

“My dad overheard me talking to you about it. He was pissed until I told him.”

I don’t want to know, but I ask anyway. “Told him what?”

“That I was in love with you and thought we’d be together after that night, but I screwed up by taking you to the cliffs. You see, I thought looking out over the ravine would be romantic, but then you started talking about college and how excited you were to finally be free. I started wondering how free you would be if we were together. Would you feel comfortable going out? How would I feel? My mind went in a hundred different directions so I kept my mouth shut and my feelings to myself.”

As much as I’ve tried to keep the tears away, I can’t. Noah pulls into the parking lot by the football stadium and puts his truck into park. I know I should move, but I can’t.

“Come to find out, taking a girl to the cliffs means different things for different people. Dad says you probably thought I was going to tell you that the night before shouldn’t have happened, which is why you were going on about school and everything else.”

I close my eyes as memories of prom, the night of and the day after flood my thoughts. I came onto him. I asked him to get us a room because I wanted him to be my first. I was finally eighteen and legal. No more silly thoughts or wasted hopes and dreams. Noah and I could be together. In my mind, it worked. He could live in Chicago until the season started, coming home on Sunday evenings and flying back for practice. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Noah doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the truck. He walks around the front and opens my door, resting his hand on my leg. “Peyton, that night meant everything to me.”

“Me too.” The words are out of my mouth and there’s no taking them back.

He nods and steps away. I want him to come back and tell me how he feels, but I can’t take much more heartbreak. Our moment, as brief as it was, has passed. I think about telling him about Dessie and the text message she sent me when they first started dating, but I bite my tongue. I’m not spiteful even though I want to be.

By the time he wakes up for his wedding, I’ll be gone. I can’t stay here and be a part of the ceremony of a man I love desperately, as he pledges his love to someone else. It’ll kill me. Nursing my broken heart in the comfort of my own home is what’s best for me. Telling my parents though, that’ll be hard. They won’t understand why I have the sudden urge to return to California.