I miss the snow. I miss the gloom of overcast days. The wind, rain and feel of Christmas that Chicago has. I never thought I would say those words, but it’s true. I enjoy the beach, but being here in December seems all sorts of wrong. Watching my dad, brother and Ben surf, while carols play loudly from the surrounding houses, doesn’t make sense.

In hindsight, I would’ve been home this week no matter what, but things would’ve been different. Normally, I’d be able to come and go as I please, but now I’m stuck, literally, in the sand, sitting in a wheelchair, without an escape.

After Christmas, I start physical therapy. Interesting considering I still have both casts on, but Xander says we need to strengthen my core and my left side. He’s afraid the weakened state of my body will result in further injuries and he’d like to prevent those from happening. I agree. Being immobile and having to depend on others isn’t my idea of a good time.

Ben comes out of the water and strips out of his wetsuit. The arms dangle at his sides, making him look like an odd octopus. He walks toward me, slamming his board into the sand, and sitting down next to me.

“I suppose your sister isn’t home?”

“Nope, and you’re here. Doesn’t that make you feel sort of odd?”

“Quinn invited me.” He nods toward the water where Quinn and my dad are riding a wave. “Not that I expect you to find out, but has Elle said anything about who she’s dating?”

I shake my head slowly and glance down at Ben. Since our chat in the hospital, we’ve grown closer as friends. I can confide in him about my feelings for Noah, and he does the same when it comes to Elle. “Nothing. I even asked her one night and she became defensive.”

“I don’t know why she won’t tell me. It’s not like she hasn’t dated before.”

“Maybe it’s someone you know or won’t approve of.”

Ben nods and lies back on the beach blanket. I feel bad for him. He’s been in love with Elle for so long and the feeling isn’t mutual. It sucks being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. It’s worse when the other person loves you but chose someone else. I don’t blame Noah, yet I do. I’m so mad at him for telling me how he feels, for kissing me, and then walking away without an explanation. But I know why he did it. I know how he struggled with Nick and Liam, both wanting to be his dad. He confided in me years ago about how classmates used to tease him because Nick wasn’t his real father. It’s one of those things where everyone in town knew he was Liam Page’s son, except for him, until my father died and Liam showed up. Everything changed then.

My mom comes out of the house and hollers to Dad and Quinn, telling him lunch is ready. “Ben, are you joining us?”

“Yes, Mrs. KPJ.”

I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname he’s given her. Ben is polite and insists on calling my parents by their last names, but I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Powell-James is a mouthful. He’s been told numerous times to call them Katelyn and Harrison, but he refuses and instead started calling them by their initials. My parents don’t seem to mind though because they really like Ben. I think they’re waiting for Elle to open her eyes as well to see what’s in front of her.

Quinn and my dad walk out of the water and drop their suits, much like Ben did. I giggle at my own inside joke, thinking we have a house full of squid.

“What’s so funny?” Quinn asks as he rights his board.

“You look like an octopus,” I tell him. He shakes his hair, letting the saltwater spray all over me. “A giant hairy one.” I scream as he picks me up out of my wheelchair and starts running toward the water. “Quinn, Mom will kill you.” I clutch onto his neck as hard as I can, but with one arm, it’s about useless. If he wanted, he could drop me and there wouldn’t be anything I could about it.

“I’m not going to drop you,” he says as he wades out into the water. “I thought you’d like to come out and at least feel the breeze. You can tell me you don’t miss this, but I know you do. You talk about missing Chicago, but it’s peaceful here. No stress. No one’s clamoring to take your photo when the band releases a new album. You can hear for miles with no traffic or noise.”

“I can hide in Chicago.”

“You can hide here, Peyton. He’s not going to show up.” As far as I know, Quinn has no knowledge of what went down between Noah and I, unless I talk in my sleep and he’s been listening. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, getting lost in the ebb and flow of the waves. Quinn’s grip on me is tight, never wavering.

We stay there until we hear our dad whistle. The spot where we were sitting is clean, my chair likely in our house. Inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and marinara sauce causes my stomach to growl loudly.

“Someone’s hungry,” Quinn says as he sets me down at the table.

“She needs her strength for when she starts PT.” Dad places his hand on my head and smooths my hair down, careful not to touch the scar I now have. I’ve contemplated shaving my head, but the thought of being bald makes me cry. Still, I’m going to be forced to make a decision soon because it’s going to take years for my hair to grow back to where the rest of it is now.

A mound of food is placed in front of me, and yet another gurgling sound emits from my stomach, causing everyone to laugh. If I never have to eat another meal at the hospital, it’ll be too soon. Halfway through the meal, my cell vibrates. I look down at my lap and at the unfamiliar number, wondering if I should even read it. Very few people have my number and the one time I answered an unknown call, it was Dessie, telling me in some very unfavorable language to stay away from Noah. I didn’t even know he was dating her at the time. It was shortly after prom… and I thought things were going to be different for us.

My cell vibrates again with another text. Everyone around the table is in full conversation so I open it up.

Hey, it’s Kyle. My lawyer says we aren’t supposed to talk, but I have to know if you’re okay.

I look around the table to make sure no one is watching me. My parents frown on us answering our phones at the table, but something tells me I should respond to Kyle.

I’m good. Sore. Can’t walk. But I’m good.

No sooner do I send the message, does the conversation bubble pop up.

I’m unbelievably sorry, Peyton. If you’ll let me, I’ll make it up to you.

Do I want that? Do I want to see Kyle?

That’d be great.

I pocket my phone before anyone at the table gets suspicious. Everyone continues to talk, about Christmas, New Year’s, whatever else is going on while I sit here in a daze, wondering what Kyle’s doing and whether Noah went home for the holidays. What I really want to know is why Aunt Josie hasn’t told my mom she’s going to be a grandma.

* * *

Xander’s gym is massive. I remember when I was younger and he started his own place in Beaumont, thinking it was huge. Elle and I used to go there and take dance classes with our aunt Yvie, but they soon moved to Los Angeles where Xander set his sights on becoming the premiere sports therapists. His client list is massive. Every professional athlete wants to work with him, and if they’re not, they’re using one of his employees.

The gym is private and mostly for the elite. Right now, it’s bustling with celebrities. I’m in heaven, looking at all the football players I want to interview some day. A few come up to me, telling me they heard about the accident, saying things like how Kyle is a good guy and I should give him a chance. For the most part, I think nothing of it because I’m sure news has traveled. It’s not like the players don’t gossip. Most of them are worse than women.

Xander has me curling weight with my one good arm. Says I need upper arm strength first before I can start rehabbing my leg. He hasn’t come out and said it, but I know I can’t walk. I’ve tried when I’m in my room, to go from one side to the other by hopping. My left leg is weak. It wobbles under any amount of pressure, and if I set my bad foot on the ground, it does nothing. No amount of mind control can get it to move.

“Another set and we’ll move on,” Xander says. I pull the dumbbell toward my chest and release it slowly, feeling the ache in my arm. My forearm quivers as I grit my teeth, trying to keep it steady. “Good girl.” He takes the weight from me and sets it back on the rack.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” I flex and show off the fact I’ve gained zero muscle so far today.

“I think I need to know your secret?”

I turn at the voice behind me. Kyle is standing there, smiling. His foot is in a walking boot and I’m instantly jealous.

“My secret to what?” I ask, instead of saying hi.

He nods toward Xander, who doesn’t look thrilled at the moment. “I tried to hire him, but was rejected.”

I shrug. “Family obligation. Xander’s my uncle. This is Kyle Zimmerman,” I tell Xander.

“I know who he is. He should get back to training.” Xander scoops me up and carries me to another machine. After he sets me down, he tells me we’re going to work my right leg for a bit.

“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.