“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?”
JUSTIN
SWEET SERENITY RANCH 4:30 P.M.
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.”