Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
And as uncomfortable as it was when Noah showed up, Kyle was a trooper. He hasn’t fully come out to ask me about Noah. He’s hinted with random statements, which I’ve ignored. I’m not in a place where I can fully say what Noah is or was to me because life is too short to play the what-if game. What if… Noah chose me over Dessie? What if… I was never in the accident?
What if… what if… what if…
The list can go on forever, and you’ll never find the answer. I refuse to play the victim or be the one Noah seeks out because he’s gotten himself into a situation. I can’t be that person for him anymore, and I hate it. I hate that our friendship is over because of… well, everything. More so, I have so much animosity for his future wife, I refuse to go to their wedding. Of course, my entire family is making the trip, which means I will too, but I’m not leaving my house.
The tech comes in with his handy dandy saw, which I begged Kyle to find online so I could at least crack my cast open in order to scratch my leg. From our first luncheon, he told me he’d saw it off, but the jerk quickly changed his mind and gave me some spiel about healing and potential damage. I stuck my tongue out at him because being childish is the way to act when you don’t get your way.
“I want to caution you, Peyton. This will be different from when we took the cast off your arm.”
“I know. My leg is going to stink. There will be a lot of dead skin. And I have to be careful with how much itching I do.”
Dr. Colby smiles. “The nurse will come in and give you a scrub down before you leave, which will help alleviate the issues.”
“Perfect.”
I wiggle my freshly painted toes, thanks to my sister, as the tech nears my leg. The saw switches on, and suddenly my mom is by my side. She grips my hand as the blade touches down on the cast. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into my ear. I lean my head against her and watch with apt attention as the tech slowly cuts open my cast. I already know what my leg will look like. There’s a nice scar running down the front of my shinbone, which matches the one on my chest and upper thigh. I joked, saying I was going to go as Frankenstein this year for Halloween, but the only one who found it funny was Quinn. He’s really the only one not treating me with kid gloves but has been an overly amazing brother.
As soon as the cast is pulled open, I quickly pull my shirt over my nose. My eyes water and I’m tempted to tell the tech to put it back. “God, I stink.”
“It’s to be expected,” Dr. Colby says.
My foot is lifted out and placed on the pillow. I stifle my laughter when a pool of sand falls out of the heel of my cast.
“Peyton, what is that?” Mom asks.
“Dunno.” I shrug.
“Unbelievable. Who let you play in the sand?”
Let’s see, Mom. Quinn. Dad. Kyle. “I think it’s probably from the wind.” There isn’t any reason to tell her Kyle gave me piggyback rides while I tried to fly a kite. Or Quinn and I built a sand castle one day and I had to beg him to set me on the edge of the tub so I could remove all the sand from my shorts. And there’s my dad who covered my arm and leg and took me out on his surfboard so I could feel human again.
“Definitely the wind. I mean we do live on the beach,” I point out. She seems to agree. I chance a look at my dad who is in the corner. He winks; reminding me our secret is safe. Truthfully, my dad would never do anything to upset my mom. I can’t recall a time when they’ve ever fought, and if they have it was never in front of us. But, that doesn’t mean he won’t do what we ask, even if it means upsetting her if she were to find out. Taking me out on the surfboard was one of those times.
It’s five in the morning and I can’t sleep. Elle and Quinn are back at school, leaving me to fend for myself which equates to having mom bug me every two minutes to see if I’m okay. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I’m surviving. Behind me, the sliding door, or more fittingly named “the wall of windows,” opens and my dad steps out. I can tell by his breathing and his cologne it’s him.