The Natural History of Us (21 page)

I open the binder to avoid the way Justin looks at me. Like he sees so much more than just my face or the expression I'm wearing, past my thoughts and into my beliefs. My fears. My truth. Chewing on my bottom lip, I thumb to the latest page of questions Coach gave us, grab a pen from the handy pouch I keep inside, and only then do I lift my gaze.

“It'll come,” he says.

“I wish I could be as confident as you,” I reply with a small laugh.

“Then I'll be confident enough for the both of us.” Justin smiles, another one of those real ones, and my breath catches in my throat. “You said you got hurt before. Do you mind me asking how?”

I hesitate. Justin has always been easy to talk to, and a big part of me wants to share all the details about what happened. I like that he isn't automatically shutting me down, assuming I can't do this. If he knows the truth, maybe the doubt will enter his eyes, too. Just like it does with Faith and Cade.

Another reason, of course, is the circumstances
around
the accident.

Best to keep it simple.

“I pushed too hard too fast,” I say, sealing myself off from the pain of that day. Now is not the time to get into it. “Haven't really ridden hard since, though Mama doesn't quite realize that.” He lifts an eyebrow in question, and I wince as I admit, “I've sort of lied to them about it. Not to hurt them,” I quickly add. “The opposite actually. They were finally stepping back, loosening the reins, and they were so proud of how far I'd come. I couldn't take that away from them. So, I implied that I was practicing more than I was, and avoided their attempts to watch.”

Although my eyes are on the table, I can feel Justin watching me. He knows how close I am with my parents. He used to tell me how he wished his were more like mine. Is he judging me for lying to them… half as much as I'm judging myself? I blow out a breath. “Basically, it was one huge game of misdirection, one that only worked because they trust me so much, and now it's about to all blow up in my face. I can't keep putting it off. I'm gonna have to tell them the truth soon because I just don't see a miracle happening before next week.”

Justin sets his sling on top of the table and leans toward me. “Let's finish the homework assignment, and then I want to try something.”

“Try something?” I repeat, smiling as I match his posture. There's no judgement in his eyes, only determination and understanding. I didn't know how badly I needed that. “Why, that sounds mysterious, Mr. Carter. Whatever do you have planned?”

Yeah, I hear the flirtation in my voice, too. Even as I chastise myself for it—I have a boyfriend, and this one lied and cheated on me—I can't find the energy to regret it, either. It's like a stone has been rolled away, lifted from a place inside my chest. For the first time in a long time, my smile doesn't feel so forced.

Maybe it's because we're practically strangers now. Maybe it's the hint of magic Justin always seemed to hold, his ability to charm the pants off me. Whatever it is, I feel… happy. Selfishly, I want to cling to that feeling for a little bit longer.

Justin's gaze dips to my lips before returning to my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Peyton
freezes and I mentally kick myself.

Why did I ask that? She's finally talking again, looking at me like I'm not the devil incarnate, and I ruin everything with four short words.
Do you trust me
? Seriously? For all Peyton knows, I broke her heart and never bothered to look back. If I were her, I damn well wouldn't trust me.

Smooth, Carter. Real smooth
.

Refusing to watch the playful light fade from her eyes, I reach over and slide her FACS binder to my side of the table. My stupid mouth should come with a warning label.

“Yeah.” Peyton's voice is soft, hesitant, and I slowly raise my head.

She swallows visibly and nods, eyes tight with emotion. “I think I might.”

Just like that, I have hope. More than I've felt in a long time. My chest swells with it, inhaling a deep breath, and chills dance down my arms. The anxiety over my shoulder, about missing a game and possibly watching my future fall apart disappears, and everything in me screams for me to jump, to tell her the truth now before she changes her mind. Before I can, she winces.

“Or at least I want to,” she admits, and a shaky laugh escapes her lips. “And that scares me to death.”

I didn't think it was possible to hate myself more than I already do, but there you go.

Three years ago, doing what scared her used to be Peyton's thing. Diving into it, seeking it out, not letting fear win. It was one of the things I admired most about her. More than her not riding, this shows how much she's changed. How much I've missed. How badly I hurt her.

The thing is, though, she's still a fighter. Courage still exudes from her pores. I see it more and more every day, and I'll make it my mission to help
her
see it, too. But not now. Right now, the important thing is to keep her talking.

Looking at the page in front of me, I read, “Both sets of in-laws want you to come home for Thanksgiving dinner.” Peyton gives me a tight-lipped, grateful smile, and I return it with a wink. “How can you avoid hurt feelings and resolve the issue?”

“I don't know,” she says with a shrug. “Two turkeys sounds like a plan to me.”

“Ah, but you forget these are
our
in-laws,” I say, craning an eyebrow. “My family doesn't do holidays, remember? They're never home. Dad travels and Annabeth takes Chase to her parents. Thanksgiving for me is whatever Rosalyn leaves wrapped up in the fridge. Or whatever Carlos's abuela whips up after taking pity on me.” I hide the embarrassment of that truth behind a smile. “So I guess one turkey it is.”

Sadness washes over Peyton's features. She leans over, takes my hand, and says, “You know you've always got a seat at our table.”

I roll my eyes, trying to distance myself from the pity in hers. She tightens her grip.

“I'm serious. Look, I know things have been crappy between us, but I'd never want you to be alone on the holidays. And don't you dare say this is pity, either, because you know how much I hate that.”

She widens her eyes and looks at me until I nod, because I do know. She hated it when people felt sorry for her after the accident, so I should know better than to think she'd do that to me. I guess that's easier to believe though, than that someone actually cares.

When I reluctantly give in, she grins. “Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you celebrated a holiday with my family. You remember Easter, don't you?”

I blink at her in shock. My heart freezes inside my chest before it pounds. “Do
I
remember Easter?” Is she serious right now?

Peyton nods, almost hesitantly, gaze locked with mine. A pretty blush steals across her cheeks and it reminds me so much of another blush, a blush I once traced down the slender column of her throat to where it spread across her bare chest. My fingertips tingle in response.

Air ignites as the memories pass between us. The spark of challenge she'd held in her eyes. The impossible softness of her skin. My awkward, inexperienced fumbling.

The pained wince that shifted into a euphoric smile after

I entered her.

I inhale a sharp breath and release it. “Hell yeah, I remember.”

“What
the—?”

Behind me, the front door closed. Bags and suitcases filled the entryway, lining either side of the foyer with a random assortment of toys thrown in the middle. Peyton frowned as she nudged a Spiderman rolling backpack with her shoe. “Y'all going on a trip?”

I almost laughed. It was cute how innocent she was. How wholesome and sweet. In her
Full House
world, it made sense that a family vacation would involve, you know, the entire family. But that wasn't my world.

“Nope,” I replied with a tight smile. “
We're
not going anywhere.”

God, I hated that this shit still got to me. I'd lost count how many times I'd come home to discover one or both of my so-called parents jetting off to parts unknown, so this sort of thing shouldn't have phased me anymore. In this case, I blamed the timing.

Usually, Easter was the one weekend a year I could count on Dad actually being around. It wasn't that my family was religious or anything. Lightning would probably strike
Annabeth dead if she ever set foot inside a church, and Dad, well, he worshipped at the altar of money. But he faked it well for his shareholders. It came with the job of CEO in the Bible belt. Holidays, holy days of obligation, and St. Edward's annual spring carnival of gluttony were prime elbow-rubbing appearances. This year he must've somehow gotten a pass.

“Well, someone's going somewhere,” Peyton muttered, eyeing an expensive looking designer suitcase with distaste. She made a face like a disgruntled bunny. “They seriously didn't tell you about this?”

“Are you seriously surprised?”

For her sake, I forced a playful smile, trying to act like it didn't bother me. I should've known better. Concern flooded her eyes, proof of how off my game I was, so I dropped the smile and tugged on her hand. “Come on. Let's go to my room.”

As we made our way through the living room, I prepared myself for the inevitable.

This was what I got for inviting her here. When Peyton found me after practice, another book in her hand and a sweet smile on her face asking for a ride, I couldn't say no. The best part was that I didn't have to, now that we were… whatever we were. She'd suggested we hang out at the ranch but I knew Cade would be there, sniffing around like a dog in heat. He had it bad for my girl. Thankfully, Peyton either had no idea or had no interest, and I planned on keeping it that way. So, like a dumbass, I'd invited her here, knowing Rosalyn would give us our space and expecting the rest of house to be relatively quiet.