The Natural History of Us (33 page)

I'd slipped back into robot talk, but I couldn't help it. Shutting down was easier. Feeling was what hurt; it was what got me in trouble. Peyton's acceptance tricked me into thinking I wasn't a fuckup. Opening up now could only harm me. Letting myself wonder, imagining what would happen. I couldn't do that, not yet.

One thing at a time.

As gently as I could, I lifted Peyton from my lap and placed her back on the bench. Then I stood and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, keeping her from reaching out for them. Stopping
me
from reaching for
her
.

I kicked at the frame of the picnic table and raised my eyes, allowing myself one last look at her stricken face. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Numbly, Peyton nodded, her rapid breaths rocking her body, and I turned away.

I'd done that. I'd caused her pain. My weakness, my mistakes. My legacy.

I retraced the steps I'd taken here, walking all the way down the gravel path to the gate near the highway. Once
there, I headed south and grabbed my phone, sending a text to Rosalyn to meet me at the strip mall a few miles away.

The long walk there in the unforgiving heat would be good. It'd keep my mind busy. Hopefully, it'd wear my body out. As it was, I doubted I'd see a wink of sleep that night.

Or, depending on the test results, ever again.

Cade
huffs as he shoves a pair of shorts in his open bag. “I'm not an idiot, Peyton, I know what I saw.” As I try to find a way to explain, the bedroom door swings open and Carlos steps inside, his ever-present goofball grin in place. I try to warn him to escape when Cade, his back to the door, continues with his rant. “You slept with him, dammit!”

Carlos's eyes go buggy wide, almost like a cartoon character, and he backpedals out the door, shutting it quickly with a bam. Cade turns at the sound, then forgets it just as quick, looking at me with anguished eyes. “How could you do that to me?”

“I know it looks bad.” I push off from the wall and hold my hands palm up. “But nothing happened last night, I swear.”

After Justin and I talked, our electronic infant woke up again,
twice
, and sometime around five A.M. we must've crashed. When Cade found me this morning, my head was on Justin's lap, his hands were in my hair, and Justin Jr. was cooing contentedly beside us. Understandably, he wasn't happy…

“Don't you trust me?” I ask him, hating myself. It's a cowardly question, one I'm frankly afraid to hear the answer to. Cade sighs, sinking onto the mattress, and my fear spikes as I sense my concern is warranted.

“I love you,” he says instead, an amazing response… but not to the question I asked.

Cade's face is open and honest; knowing he loves me should make me happy. But it's his eyes that do me in. The bleak look in them tears at the healing hole inside my heart.

“I've loved you for years, CC, you know that. But trust?” He shakes his head. “I wish I could say yes, I really do. But when it comes to him… you just don't think clearly.”

I take a step toward the bed. “Listen, you have to believe me. Last night—”

“Was nothing more than a repeat of the same old pattern,” he finishes, a humorless laugh lifting his shoulders. “What surprises me is that I'm even surprised. I've played second fiddle to Justin Carter for years. Now… now I see that's all I'll ever be. Even though I treat you better than he ever will. Even though I
love
you more than he ever could. He's who you want.” Cade drops his head into his hands. “I'm so damn tired of pretending otherwise.”

His posture slumps in defeat and everything in me says to go to him, to hold him tight and deny, deny,
deny
what he's saying. But I can't. As much as I hate it, as much as I loathe what it says about me and my messed up priorities, he's right. Justin is who I want. Who I've always wanted.

I'm seriously a glutton for punishment.

Tremors quake my hands and I fist them under my arms. This feels like an ending.

“Are we… are we breaking up?”

I whisper the words so low, I wonder if he even hears them. Cade stares at the floor for a long, heavy beat, and I assume he
didn't. It's a relief because hearing would make it real. He'd have to answer. But then, slowly, he nods.

“Yeah.” Cade's voice breaks, and my heart crumples right along with it. “I think we are.”

It's not until he stands and grabs his bag that I lose it for real.

“Wait. Where are you going? You don't have to…” I trail off as he gives me a look.

“Home,” he answers. “I'm going home, Peyton. I think I've overstayed my welcome.”

Heaving the bag onto his shoulder, he removes his glasses and scrubs a hand over his face, looking uncomfortable as hell. Like he can't wait to get away from me. And that… that hurts more than the breakup.

“You can come with me if you want,” he offers, always so damn polite. I hesitate, swallowing past the painful lump lodged in my throat, and he laughs. “Yeah. That's what I thought.”

Cade rocks back on his heels, and slaps his palms against his thighs. With a decisive nod, he turns toward the door. Numbly, not knowing what else to do, how else to stop this from happening, I fall in step behind him.

I pad out the door and down the stairs, arms wrapped tight around my chest as I watch my best friend leave. Leave the house or leave my life, I'm not sure, and that terrifies me. But I don't ask. The potential answer is more terrifying than the question.

We make it outside, and the briny scent of the Gulf floats on the breeze. If I stretch my hearing, I imagine I can hear the bells and rings of Pleasure Pier. Maybe it's good we never made it back. Better. If we were destined to break up anyway, I'd rather keep those memories between us untainted. A perfect snapshot of what we once were. Or could have been, had my head and heart not been owned by Justin Carter.

I stop at the base of the stairs and Cade tosses his bag in the bed of his truck. He stops near the driver's side door, his
Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. This is goodbye. We'll see each other at the ranch, around the rodeo circuit, but it will never be the same. It'll be tainted. Tainted with loss, sadness, and regret.

For a moment, I let myself wonder what it would've been like had things been reversed. How different our lives would be had Cade brought me to the pier
freshman
year, sweeping me off my feet before I even met Justin. It's impossible to know for certain, but I'd like to think we'd have been great. Because Cade Donovan is an incredible guy. He'll find his other half one day. He has way too much love to give not to.

Wrapping one hand around the stair railing as an anchor, I lift the other in a wave, knowing he needs me to be strong. If I ask him to, even now, he'd stay. He'd come back and pretend some more, but I can't ask him to do that. Not anymore.

Cade nods slowly and his mouth lifts in a small, heartbroken smile. Then, he yanks open the door. The engine fires and I wince, feeling the finality of that sound.

As I stand there, watching the rapidly disappearing taillights, a shadow falls across mine on the pavement. “I know it doesn't feel like it now, but it's for the best.”

I give Aly my best attempt at a smile. “Speaking from experience?”

There's no point in pretending she doesn't know exactly what just happened. We weren't exactly quiet, Carlos isn't known for keeping his mouth shut, and, as I saw yesterday, Aly Reed is sneakily perceptive.

“Yep,” she confirms. She sets her car seat on the ground and lays her head on my shoulder. “It hurts, I know, but in the end, it's always best to follow your heart. The sooner you do that, the less pain is involved.”

We stay like this, her head on my shoulder, my heart in my throat, for what feels like forever. The house is quiet. Sometime between Carlos peeking inside our bedroom, and Cade and I
leaving it, the baseball team headed out. Well, the team minus Justin. Dad asked him to stay behind, knowing how hard it would be for him to sit in the dugout and not play in the Semi-finals. One bright spot is that by staying here, he was able to take care of Justin Jr. while my relationship imploded.

Aly breaks the silence by saying, “I'm here if you want to talk. I understand we're not close, and I don't know everything that went down, but Justin's told me enough. He mentioned that you two were together once… and he told me that he loved you.”

I must gasp because she lifts her head and studies me. “He never told you?”

“Uh, no,” I stutter, torn between wanting to believe and doubting, and Aly rolls her eyes.

“Boys are stubborn creatures,” she says with a sigh, “and Justin is one of the worst. He's stubborn and a flirt, but Peyton, I've never known him to lie. He said that he loved you and I believe him.” She covers her eyes with her hand, shielding her face from the sun. “Though, from the way he said it, I'm guessing things didn't exactly end well. He implied it was his fault.”

I shrug, neither confirming nor denying her assumption, and look off into the distance. “In some ways, it was both our faults.”

It's true, too. I was a mess back then. I was impulsive and daring, looking for ways to prove I was alive. That GBS hadn't won. I took all the energy I normally reserved for barrel racing and put it into challenging myself, rushing through steps and pushing past fear. Pretending I had none.

Man, did that bite me in the ass.

Aly brushes sand off the bottom step and takes a seat. “Probably so, but from talking to him, it's obvious Justin blames himself. I'm not gonna sit here and blow smoke up your skirt, claiming he won't ever mess up again. He will. But
I
can
promise you this—Justin's a different guy than he used to be. He's different than he was when we were freshmen, he's different than he was when I dated him in the fall, and he's changed even since this project began.”

Leaning back on her elbows, she squints into the sun. “It doesn't take a genius to know that last part is all you. He's in deep. He cares about you a lot, and as his friend, it's my duty to be nosy and ask you… how do
you
feel about him? Because, at the end of the day, it's on you. That boy ain't going nowhere. So what is your heart telling you?”

What is my
heart
saying? It's saying I just destroyed my best friend. That I'm standing here getting advice from a girl I barely know, as an electronic baby coos at her feet, and that I need to find the nearest gallon of ice cream and dive in head first. But even as I think it, I know I'm not being completely honest.

My heart… it's screaming at me, loud and clear.

I kick at the railing. No wonder Cade left me; our relationship isn't cold, it's barely even reached room temperature, and I'm already thinking about Justin. Wondering if, now that I'm free, he'll tell me the rest of the story. If after he does, it'll make a difference. If the timing is
finally
right for us.

How can my heart be so fickle? It should be in mourning. Hell, after the beating it took with Justin three years ago, it should be curled up in the fetal position.

Do what scares you
.

The long-forgotten motto roars through me like an old friend, like a lion waking from its slumber. But look what happened when I followed that philosophy before. It backfired miserably. I've spent the last three years doing the exact
opposite
of that, avoiding the sport I love and keeping my heart locked up safe and tight. Yeah, it's been boring, but it's also been beautifully tear-less.

My heart whispers, “But Justin helped you face your fear, and you kicked the barrel course's ass. Maybe it's time you let
him
back in, too.”

Gah
. My heart is so damn nosy.