Page 14

fourteen

Paisley

I made it home super late, but I can’t settle down, and I definitely don’t sleep. I toss and turn, my stomach a hurricane of knots. My body doesn’t even find comfort in the fact that I’m lying in my own place, in my own room, in my own luxurious bed for the first time in a month. After several long hours, I resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to sleep. I kick my blanket down to the bottom of my bed and sit up, flipping on my lamp.

I’m upset I screwed things up with Noah before we even had a chance to try to be anything more than friends. Bigger than that—I’m furious with my dad. He put me up to this whole thing. I had been so blind, only seeing the admiration I would win from him. I was clearly naive.

More than the anger I was feeling, I was also having so much clarity. Something happened in Mapleton that I never expected. I stopped caring about what my dad thought, and I started thinking for myself. Now I want answers. The sun isn’t even fully up yet, but that’s not going to slow me. I know where to find him. I take a moment to dress and drive over to the gym he both owns and works out at every morning.

I don’t even blink an eye when I locate his car pulled up to the curb in the parking lot. It’s perfect timing because the club is nearly empty, and we can finally talk. I resist clenching my hands into fists as I make my way inside the building, and my eyes immediately land on my dad on his weight bench, right where I knew he would be.

But he’s not alone.

And I’m not surprised.

My breath hitches in the back of my throat when I zoom in on my brother, Peyton, standing by my dad’s head, spotting him. They’ve always been the best of friends, doing everything together, so it shouldn’t surprise me they are working out together.

And it doesn’t.

It stings to think I can’t even find one moment to talk to my dad alone. My steps lose some of the urgency, but I trudge my way over to the bench, forgoing a traditional hello. “Dad.”

“Squirt." He leads with the childhood nickname I loathe. “I thought I told you to let me know when you got on the road.” His fingers curl around the loaded bar, and he winces as he pushes it up.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep so I ended up driving home last night.” I cross my arms over my chest and jut out my foot.

“That’s good,” he says on his exhale and pauses to inhale as he lowers the bar again. On his extension, he breathes out. “Glad you made it home safe.” He quickens his reps, my brother counting them out. They both go about their task like I’m not even standing there.

That’s all he has to say to me?

That’s good and glad you made it home safe.

I almost destroyed an entire team’s reputation because he told me to, and I don’t even get a hug.

My cheeks fire hot. So many suppressed emotions bubble to the surface. I’m seeing years of flashbacks, each event the same. My dad and at least one of my brothers, bonding over their shared hobbies, and me standing there—as I am now—an outsider looking in.

Everything I ever wanted to say hangs on the tip of my tongue, and it itches, waiting for a chance to be heard, but I close my mouth and resist.

This isn’t about me at all.

My hands fall to my side, and my body is heavier than it was when I came in here. This is about him, and there isn’t anything I’ll ever do to change that. He could have dictated that hit piece for me. If I had written it verbatim and taken the heat for him, I’d still be standing here feeling disconnected.

The disconnect doesn’t hang on much. An overwhelming new emotion washes over me, and all I can think of is— it’s not worth it.

It’s not my job to try to mold him into someone he has never been. The sooner I accept that, the sooner I will be happy. And better than that, I can start living my life for me. I don’t even have to swallow all those emotions hanging on the tip of my tongue. As soon as I realize that, the hurt, the anger, the jealousy, the never measuring up—they all float away.

It’s crazy how accepting the truth finally sets me free, and I shrug, feeling lighter, and slowly back away from him.

It’s crazy early in the morning, and I have nothing to do back at my apartment. Since I’m already here, I scan the empty rows of treadmills and think about how I could use a workout myself as well. It would help to loosen up some of this travel stiffness. I set my eyes on the treadmill in the far corner, and stride over with my shoulders back.

If I’m going to start making choices for me, it’s going to start now.

I throw my keys in the treadmill cup holder and turn on the motor to the lowest setting as I stretch my arms high over my head, breathing deep into the muscle stretch. Then I roll my shoulders, feeling the one still stiffer than it should be, and I grab the TV remote and flick on the flatscreen that’s in front of me. It’s sports news, the only thing dad ever watches. I turn up the volume. It’s some sort of Hometown Hero segment. This week’s episode is on a minor league baseball team that adopted an underfunded pet shelter. They not only raised enough money to fund it, but they also bought a new building and started a medical fund for low-income pet owners.

It’s just dogs, cats, and one pot-bellied pig that is surprisingly domestic, but tears pour out of my eyes. As many times as I wipe them away, I can't keep my eyes dry. I’m overly emotional with everything that happened in Mapleton and with my dad, but this show has that sappy feel-good gut-wrench thing you get when you have renewed hope in people. I’m overcome with so much emotion that I power down my treadmill and jog to the locker room for a tissue to blow my nose.

As I scurry across the gym, sniffing the whole way, I'm reminded of how Bill invited me to their team charity carnival, and how I barely considered it at the time. A wave of goosebumps washes over me, and I know without one doubt that I need to shoot that carnival. Not simply to make it up to them and to myself, but to pay it forward to the community so they can all see there’s still good in this world.

My lips pinch tightly together as I hold back a smile. It’s too soon to celebrate, but I skip to the locker room, no longer needing a tissue. Instead, I hurry back toward the exit.

“Hey, Paisley,” Dad calls out.

I toss a glance over my shoulder right as he sits up on the edge of his bench and takes a towel from Peyton. “Where are you headed?”

“Ah, I have things to do.” I drop my gaze to the floor before I add, “And I want to quit the magazine.”

I stare at my shoes while I wait for his response, and it doesn’t come fast enough. Peyton cuts in, “Is this about Noah?”

I stare off past him, because I don’t even know if it is. It’s partly about him, but more about me. “Maybe.”

Dad shakes his head while dabbing his temples with the corner of the towel, his lips pinched tightly. Against my better judgment, I ask his opinion, “What do you think?”

“I think . . .” He pauses to roll his towel lengthwise and wraps it around the back of his neck as he raises his gaze to mine. “I think that boy’s trouble, but I can see by the spark in your eye that you’re going to love him anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I offer a weak shrug before I add, “But I think I need to find out for myself.”

With that, I spin on my heel and exit the gym with an extra pep in my step. Time to book another Airbnb in Mapleton. I have an event to go to this weekend.