: Chapter 3

Payton

Now, July 3

“Knock, knock.” The soft whisper has me looking toward the hall to find Mia sneaking in on her tiptoes.

Deaton whips his head around so fast he almost falls off my lap and instantly starts speaking baby talk as he clenches his hands together in excitement at a new face to play with.

I lift him, spinning him to face her on my lap, and take his hand, waving it at her. “Say hi, Mia.”

“So he is awake,” she singsongs, her feet carrying her faster across the room until she’s stealing him from my arms and lifting him into the air. “And here I thought you didn’t come to brunch because someone was napping.” She points a raised, red brow my way.

“So what’s up?” I ignore her comment, pushing to my feet and using the moment of free hands to pick up the mess of toys, socks, and more.

“Oh, you know, another day, another shitstorm.” Mia follows me into the kitchen, Deaton in her arms.

I give her a questioning look and drop my head back dramatically, laughing when Deaton tries to stick his hand in her mouth.

“So I have a problem. Well, not me, and honestly, I don’t even know why I’m trying to help at this point, but⁠—”

“Mia, come on.” I fight a smile. “Out with it.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Ever wanted to photograph a wedding reception?”

My brows snap together. “I’m listening.”

Mia nods and goes into explaining how her client, whose wedding dress Lolli was modeling yesterday for last-minute alterations, was cancelled on and is now in need of a new photographer. “So I thought of you…but I also sort of already told her you would do it…”

“Mia,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ve only been interning with Embers Elite for, what, six months or something. And that’s sports photography.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even a little bit.” I laugh lightly, fighting with the stupid bottle scrubber to work with me. “I take action shots…mostly.”

“See!” She smiles. “Come on. It’s no pressure. The ceremony is covered, so it’s just the reception, and they only want candid shit, no posing. So snap a few pics, no contract, and get a fat paycheck from a spoiled-ass Southern chick. It’s a win.”

I chew my lip, ideas of what moments I would want to capture already flying through my mind at warp speed. My expression must show the internal excitement at the opportunity, because Mia squeals.

“Yes!” she shouts, dancing around with Deaton, making him grin like crazy. “And before you start worrying about not being able to go for this or that reason, Ari and Noah were very quick to offer to babysit.”

Sadness blooms in my chest for the couple that’s been through more than anyone should go through in a lifetime, but before I start comparing their rotten apples to my sour oranges, I shut that train of thought down.

“Yeah, okay. Deal.” I agree before I think too hard about it. It’s not like I’m in a position to turn down work anyway. But honestly… “I’d love to.”

Mia makes a giant, overexaggerated happy face for Deaton’s benefit, and then without a word to me, she heads out the back door, taking my son right along with her.

I don’t wait around to see when she’ll pop back in but take advantage of the moment and run to the shower.

This is good, perfect even.

Today, I’ll be out all afternoon with Mason’s and Nate’s parents. Tomorrow is the holiday, so everyone will be around, talking a mile a minute and taking up every moment I could possibly have. Later that night, when my subconscious fights against sleep, I’ll spend the time getting my camera bag ready. Then the wedding will be here, and it will be the perfect distraction to make it through. I can do this.

I can.

“Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever even?” Vivian gushes, the gleam in her eyes one of happiness, but the way her hand raises to her chest at the same time tells me a little part of her is thinking of the loss her family faced not all that long ago.

Mason’s mom, Vivian, is one of the kindest women I have ever met, along with Lolli’s future mother-in-law, Sarah. From the moment we met last year, those two have become something I didn’t know I needed—women to look up to.

I’ve always known my mother was a horrible woman, but I guess I never stopped to think of what it meant to be a good one. Not to your core anyway, and these two? Well, I’d say they were one of a kind, but there’s two of them.

Gracious and forgiving, understanding and caring. Selfless and driven to give their love freely—an entirely new concept for me—and they have, to both Deaton and me.

No one calls me as much as Vivian, and no one sends care packages as much as Sarah, something I’ve asked her not to do because I don’t want her to feel obligated, and the more she does, the more likely she will. Of course, she waves me off every time, and a few days later, there’s a new box on my front porch. I swear, the only time I buy baby clothes is when I see something I want him to have. Thanks to the two of them, Lolli, and Parker, Deaton’s closet is fuller than mine.

I smile down at the little man when he starts making random sounds, his slobbery fingers reaching out to slap on the glass before us. The little bear cub on the other side comes closer and slaps his palm in the same spot.

Deaton jerks, his whole body flailing with one of those baby jump scares, and the three of us laugh as he looks up at us with big blue eyes, seeking confirmation he is, in fact, perfectly fine.

“Oh, sweet boy,” Vivian coos, bending to have a full-on conversation with the infant.

Another cry catches my attention, and I look to the left to find a little boy with blond hair stretching his arms up into the air from where he’s strapped into his stroller. He’s reaching for the man with matching features who I can only assume is his dad. Instantly, the man drops down and frees the little guy from his seat, happily bouncing him around as he turns them back toward the zoo exhibit.

I watch as the little boy drops his head down on the man’s shoulder, and it’s like a boulder bears down on mine in the same second.

Deaton…

“Come, honey.” Sarah’s soft voice wraps around me, and she curls her arm through mine, leading us to where my smiling baby waits with Vivian.

I didn’t even realize they’d continued forward.

Vivian’s eyes find mine, a knowing look within them as she offers a small smile, one that quickly grows when she points at the curly-haired boy now in her arms. “I think it’s time for lunch. What do you say, sweet pea?”

Together, we head for the food court, my phone ringing all the way, but I don’t answer, and I don’t look at the screen. I don’t need to to know who’s calling.

I know it’s him.

It’s always him.

Mason

My leg is bouncing so fast, the headboard of the bed hits against the wall in steady knocks. Later, I’ll likely have Brady down my throat, demanding to know who I snuck in for a bit of afternoon fun. Little does he know I haven’t touched another since⁠—

Swallowing my frustration, I jump to my feet and tug a hoodie over my head.

I’m out the door and jogging down the beach in seconds, making this my third official run of the day.

I can’t sit still, not knowing I’m literal feet from Payton, something I’ve wished for for months now, and I can’t see or talk to her. To be fair, she’s not home. I know because I’ve gone by there the last two times I tugged a hoodie on and went for the same damn run. The second spin around, Parker was home, but she still wasn’t, so I can’t exactly stop—again—and ask if she is back without looking like a possessive jackass.

Not that I care. I kind of am one, if I’m honest, but I’ve been holding in my inner need to flip the fuck out considering everyone is around. And god damn, everyone is always around. I can never get her alone, not during visits like this one.

If it were up to me I’d make a whole-ass scene, knock the doors down, and beat my chest like a caveman. I won’t, though, for her sake and no one else’s.

Still, as I approach Payton’s house, my feet move a little slower, my eyes slicing across every inch of the place. Nothing I can see from here gives away if she’s in there or not. I mean, I could knock, but Parker will just ask what he asked before.

Did I call her?

I scoff.

What kind of question is that?

Of course I fuckin’ called her. Texted her, too.

Been calling and texting without a response for fifty-seven days. Yes, I counted, and you know what? It doesn’t sound as bad as saying months does, but it’s July, and that was May, and fuck me. It feels shitty. Worse than.

I’m caught in quicksand, and there’s no one around to pull me out.

I jog past her house, then Nate’s, and I keep going, running longer than my five a.m. cardio session and farther than round two when I thought I was being the right kind of sneaky and would catch her when I know Deaton would be awake. I didn’t, and if the lack of her answering the knock I couldn’t help but bring down on her window was any indication, she was already gone.

Why is she doing this?

What the fuck happened?

The questions are too daunting, so I block them out. I run until my lungs burn, and only when my legs are jelly do I turn around and drag my ass the five miles back, this time taking the street so I can get a view of the front of the house in case it reveals anything different.

It doesn’t, and now I’m getting pissy.

Sweat pours from my temples as I pant my way up the drive of the beach house I co-own with my sister, her best friend Cameron, and my boys, Brady and Chase, so I tug my hoodie over my head and swipe at it, following the wraparound deck from front to back. I toss my top onto the picnic bench and snag a football from the bucket by the door.

I no sooner toss it in the air than the slider opens, and the man of all fucking men walks out.

His eyes meet mine a moment before dropping to my calves, both tight and twitching. “You’re overdoing it.”

“I’m good.” I flex through it, nearly numb to the ache, and head down the stairs into the sand. Spinning so I’m walking backward, I point the ball his way.

Noah’s hands go open instantly, and I toss him the ball.

“Run some routes for me?”

He hesitates, then nods, joining me on the beach and channeling his old receiver position, or new depending on how you look at it considering he was drafted as a wide receiver, officially retiring his quarterback arm and helping me perfect mine.

The first half hour, we’re just warming up with short distance passes, but the minute we get into running routes, I’m all over the fucking place.

I’m overthrowing and underthrowing, and when a pass I rocket to him, one I could normally make with my eyes closed, lands ten feet to his left, his head whips in my direction.

The concern in his expression isn’t ill placed as he walks back toward me. “Have you been working with your offseason coaches?”

I look off, spinning the ball in my hands. “Every day.”

“Footwork? Mechanics? Hip rotation⁠—”

“Yeah, Noah.” I cut him off. “I’m doing the whole-ass Noah Riley thing. Working my way out of your shadow and all that bull.”

Noah frowns but says nothing. He’s great, but maybe I should have had Chase out here. At least he would let me pick a fight and fight back. Noah’s just too…Noah for that.

I can tell he wants to say something that would be in line with what my dad would say, and it would sound something like I’m not filling a shadow but stepping into a role I was made for as the next starting quarterback of Avix University now that he’s been drafted to the big boys’ game. Of course, he wouldn’t add that last little bit in—the man is far too humble for that.

It’s wild to think my twin sister, baby sister if you ask me, is dating a man who was picked in the first round of the NFL draft. I like to think she has me to thank for that—all those after-school and weekend hours spent on the bleachers paid off in a big way for her, and I’m not talking money.

I’m talking that gravity-defying, soul-defining, epic love story shit.

She has that.

I want that.

Fuck.

Shoving my hand through my hair, I look his way. “I’m just off my game today, that’s all. I’ve been slaying in practice. Doing two a day and ending in an ice bath, rotating to heat packs when called for. I’ve had no offseason and been in all summer so far. Coach says I’m solid.”

Noah nods, eying me curiously. “You do know there is such a thing as overdoing it, right?”

“Yeah, man. I know.”

“Then why are we out here when your calves are spasming? You could pull something if you don’t rehab right.”

“I said I’m doing ice baths.”

“I’m talking about now. Not at school.” He cocks his head a bit, and I know he’s done pretending he isn’t seeing more than an off day of practice. “You know you can talk to me, right?” he asks. “I mean, I’m not Chase or Brady or whatever, but we’re friends, Mason.”

“Come on, man.” I wave that off. “You’re fucking family, and you know it, so don’t start with that shit again.”

He smiles wide, and I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask when he’ll propose to my sister. After the year they had and the love they had to fight for, I almost wonder if he already did and they haven’t told us yet. But when he looks back at me, an expectant look in his eye that says we’re not changing the subject, I face away.

He won’t pry. He’s not the type.

Shit, he was in love with my sister for months, listened to her talk about another dude for most of that, and never so much as said a word. He’s got the inner strength and willpower of a saint.

He’s the picture of patience, and here I am with a bobby pin I stole from Ari’s bathroom in my pocket, just waiting for night to fall so I can pick the lock on Payton’s room tonight and force her to talk to me.

Why won’t she talk to me?

A frustrated groan leaves me, and I glance toward Noah, but he isn’t looking at me anymore. A slow smile is spreading across his face, a faraway look taking over, and I don’t have to turn to know who stepped out onto the deck.

“Sister,” I call out to test my theory.

“Brother.”

Grinning, I peek over to find her leaning against the railing, chin pressed in her palm. Slowly, her eyes leave Noah’s and meet mine for a brief smile before sliding back to the man beside me.

The warmth in her gaze fills me with happiness, but just as quickly, the sentiment switches into something else.

He has his girl.

I thought one day, I’d have mine.

Maybe I won’t.

Maybe that’s a pipe dream never to see the light of day.

Maybe I need to work a little harder.

“I’m gonna go see what Nate’s up to.”

“Uh-huh,” Ari teases, like she knows what’s up.

She couldn’t possibly. No one does.

No one but me…and the girl I want to be mine.

“You do know she’s at the zoo with Mom and Aunt Sarah today, right?”

Ari not only proves she’s more in tune than I thought but shocks the shit out of me with her question. Or admission, because no, I did not know that. It should settle me knowing Payton’s spending time with my family, the people who love me most, but it doesn’t.

I want to be the person she spends her time with. I want to be the one to show Little D the monkeys and the bears. Maybe this is good, though, a twisted sort of sign she’s still in reach, if only through those closest to me.

She will be. She has to be.

What the fuck will I do if she won’t be?