Peyton's Path: Fickle Fate: Book 3

by SM Olivier

  His perceptiveness and ability to continually try to help me had been a godsend the last couple of weeks. I realized daily I was beyond blessed that he had the patience to help me try to get through this. With his help and the others, I was slowly getting stitched back together.

  “Here, I got that.” Zane barely contained his yawn as he grabbed my bag and threw it over his shoulder. Now he had both of our duffel bags and book bags. I wanted to protest, but I knew it was useless. I was too tired even to attempt to.

  “Thanks,” I tiredly mumbled as I shuffled up the steps.

  We had returned to my bedroom on the guys’ insistence, so I was less likely to hear Clay and Maisie as they were calmed back to sleep early this morning. I was thankful when Paxton informed me that they were both sleeping about half an hour after we’d returned to bed. I felt guilty for not helping them, but I had to get up nearly two hours before they’d be up.

  The smell of coffee tantalized my senses as my foot hit the top stair. It perked me up slightly as I went upstairs and into the kitchen. A small smile curved my lips as I saw Kyler standing in front of the espresso machine. He was a genius at making lattes.

  Kyler was still the earliest riser in the house. Since my return, he had seemed to get up earlier to get his workday over sooner. Kyler almost always made it home before dinner. He had returned to work last week on my insistence. With winter coming, there were no guarantees that he would be busy in his construction company or find decent enough houses to flip.

  I took a moment just to admire him in this domestic moment. His simple white t-shirt and dark well-worn jeans got me every time. I didn’t care how often I saw him in the simple garments. The way his clothes clung to his large muscular frame was a huge turn-on. His work ethic and calloused hands were an added bonus.

  “Good morning, kitten,” he crooned as he turned with a knowing smirk.

  “Morning,” I rasped, both with a morning voice and because my voice hadn’t returned yet.

  The doctors were unsure if my voice would ever return to its regular cadence. They were uncertain if it was due to my prolonged sickness without proper treatment or the constant shock to my vocal cords from the dog collar I had been forced to wear.

  Like my scars, it would be a daily reminder of what I had been through. I couldn’t wait for the day my blemishes transformed into battle wounds. Instead of a grim reminder, I hoped they would be a positive souvenir that I was a survivor.

  “Cheddar jalapeno bagels with cream cheese and ham.” Kyler kissed me on the corner of my mouth as he slid two bagels towards me and Zane. “I know you don’t have time to sit and eat, but I figured they would be easy to eat on the go.”

  Typically, I wouldn’t have eaten anything this heavy before dance, but I needed the extra calories and the carbs. The fresh bagels had also become a craving slash weakness of mine. Twice a week, Kyler went to the next town over to oversee one of his new flips. He had stumbled upon a bagel shop that sold homemade bagels in over twenty different flavors and over fifteen varieties of flavored cream cheese.

  Since he found out my fondness for them, he made sure to have them in the pantry at all times. I hadn’t failed to notice his pit stop at the closed shop last night on the way home.

  He had made friends with the older owners, who had taken a liking to him. Whether it was due to his obscure notoriety−all my guys had been featured on the news, one way or another−or just general rapport, they had given him their personal phone numbers. They insisted Kyler use it. They had been closed and still managed to make over two dozen bagels for us.

  If I had been braver, I would have met them face-to-face and complimented them on their delicious food. I would have also thanked the shop owners for being so generous with their time. Their customer service had been beyond amazing and accommodating.

  “Thanks,” I murmured as I accepted my bagel and thermos from him. I stood on my tiptoes to return the kiss to his cheek.

  “Yeah, thanks, man.” Zane smiled as he took an abnormally large bite from his bagel.

  It was Zane who had convinced me to add the honey ham to my jalapeno cheddar bagel with cream cheese last week, and it had moved to the top of my list of favorites.

  Zane proceeded to slice another bagel open. It was a sweet concoction that reminded me of cinnamon toast crunch. I knew without asking him that it was for his mother. She had quickly become addicted to them with the addition of maple brown sugar cream cheese. It was way too sweet for me, but I could understand why people inhaled them as well.

  “No problem.” Kyler smiled as he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a canvas bag. “I packed some snacks. Some healthy, some not so much.” He gave me a pointed look.

  Between him and Paxton, I think they were continually shoving food at me. It was just another way they showed me how invested they were in my recovery.

  “Thanks, baby,” I murmured, kissing him once more.

  Kyler gave me a satisfied smirk. “Good luck, kitten. If at any time during the day you need to take a time out, let me know.”

  We already had this discussion last night. Golden, Zane, and Kyler seemed to support my decision to return to my “normal” life. Paxton had tried to implore me− on numerous occasions− that I take Grandpa’s suggestions. Lochlann seemed to have accepted the Switzerland approach and had remained neutral. Crew, on the other hand, seemed to be straddling the fence. One moment he seemed to support my decision, and the next, he seemed to want to shade and protect me longer.

  “I will,” I reassured him. I blew out a breath. “I have to return to reality eventually.”

  I had to fight the butterflies that threatened to take flight in my stomach once more.

  “We’ll be with her all day,” Zane reassured him.

  “Me too,” Sal gruffed from the doorway.

  I startled for a moment. Then I tensed. I sought Cooper out. I really didn’t want to face him this morning. However, I had every intention of talking to Grandpa before the little rat… well, ratted me out.

  I had never had a conversation with Grandpa about the guys. I knew he wasn’t stupid. I was sure he suspected that we were more than friends. I just wasn’t sure how he would react to knowing I was also involved with Lochlann. I didn’t know if he thought it was inappropriate for a school counselor to be involved with a student, even if he wasn’t a teacher or my counselor.

  “We agreed that he would take the day off,” Sal said as if he understood I was looking for Cooper.

  “He needs it,” Kyler stated bluntly. “There are bagels in here, man. You have just enough time to make one before being late.”

  “Thanks.” Sal grinned before he made quick work of picking out a spinach bagel.

  “I’m taking our bags out to the SUV.” Zane kissed my temple before turning to leave.

  I turned to Kyler and waved my fingers towards him. “Have a great day at work.”

  “Have a great day at dance and school,” Kyler murmured in return before he pulled me in to place a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

  I was all too aware of Sal’s presence and was bummed. I couldn’t deepen our kiss and adequately say goodbye to Kyler.

  Kyler chuckled as if he could read my mind before he nipped at my lower lip, then soothed it with a tongue swipe.

  “It’s you and me tomorrow night,” he whispered in my ear.

  I pulled back and looked at him. There was a light in his eyes, the potential of carnal delights. I barely contained the shudder of excitement, understanding the silent promise. I was now counting down the hours until I could share a bed with him once more.

  ●

  I was happy that the locker room was empty when I got to the studio. We’d purposefully arrived forty-five minutes early, and Zane used his key to let us in. I knew this, too, was carefully planned by the guys. It gave me some time to get ready and warm up before being overwhelmed by all the other girls.

  Only the older elite team dance squad came at the unseemly hour of
six a.m to practice. That gave Starr, Anya, and Alex time to provide at least one hour of undivided attention, as the minis, juniors, and teens came in at eight, nine, and ten o’clock, respectively.

  Typically, the first hour of our training consisted of warming up and self-practice. The second hour was when groups practiced together, sometimes for a couple of hours. For some, this was almost like a full-time job. Many of the girls and guys on the elite teams had tutors so they could spend most of the time at the studio.

  As much as I loved the competition team, and that dancing for a living was my ultimate dream, I wanted some semblance of a normal life. I actually enjoyed school and liked the majority of my teachers. Plus, it was a bonus that I got to spend time with the guys.

  Some people might have thought I was crazy for being with them nearly twenty-four-seven, but I loved being around them. Without them by my side these last few weeks, my mental state would have been a lot worse.

  A gentle knock on the door brought me out of my musings. “You ready, beautiful?”

  “In a minute,” I called out to Zane, knowing it was him.

  I did a quick once over and grimaced. I had ordered new dance gear. It was hard finding cute clothing that covered my neck and arms. For today, I had picked out a white three-quarter sleeved cropped mock turtleneck. I paired it with a pair of black boy-cut dance shorts. My hair was in a messy bun.

  I turned my head from side to side and noticed after some movements that the mock turtleneck didn’t adequately cover my neck's abrasions. I rifled through my bag and withdrew a wide cloth headband. I pulled it on over my head and was pleased to see it covered my imperfections entirely.

  At least some of my flaws were easier to hide than others.

  “You are beautiful with or without those scars,” Zane softly whispered behind me from the doorway.

  I jumped and gasped. My hand was poised over my throat as my heart raced a million miles a minute. I willed it to slow down.

  “Not everyone will think so,” I whispered with a slight crack in my voice. “I’m going to be stared at and talked about enough today without giving them more gossip to discuss.”

  I grabbed my duffle bag and stuffed it in my locker.

  Zane walked over to me and held my hand. “I wish there was something I could say or do to make it all go away.”

  “You can’t,” I said ruefully. “But it’s enough that you’re here for me.”

  He gave me a pensive nod before he led me towards one of the practice rooms.

  ●

  Lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid poured from the speakers as I ran towards Zane. His arms were poised and ready for me. I leaped up, then waited to feel his arms on my waist before I twisted around. My back braced against his biceps, my body cradled to his chest. He dipped slightly before pushing me up, giving me the momentum to continue to turn in his arms.

  We had to time this Cheshire Cat lift perfectly. He had to synchronize my landing while he continued in motion, lifting me into the air. I had to place a lot of trust in him as he tossed me into the air. I then turned my body in a near one-eighty, so I was now facing him. The moment my hands landed on his broad shoulders, I knew I had screwed up.

  I overshot it. My ab muscles were quivering with strain, and I felt myself overcompensating for my weakness. I tried to recover and open my legs into a full split, but I knew I wasn’t completing the move. My eyes widened, and I yelped when I felt myself begin to collapse.

  “I got you,” Zane encouraged me. “Trust me.”

  It wasn’t him that I couldn’t trust. It was myself. Zane wasn’t even straining or breathless as he took a few steps to catch me before I fell.

  I let out a loud expletive as he gently lowered me to the ground.

  “Dammit!” I stomped my feet like a petulant two-year-old before I walked over to my water bottle. I took a few gulps of water, panting as I pulled it away. “Damn them!” I screamed once more.

  I never lost my cool when I was dancing. I was emotional and expressive, but I never let anger or frustration take over, until today. It was clear after just half an hour of practice that I was weak.

  Yes, I knew that lift was one of the most technical moves to do for an expert, seasoned dancer, but we had nailed it a time or two before I was taken. It hadn’t been easy, but it had never left me this winded and shaky.

  If Zane weren’t my partner, I would have eaten the ground several times this morning. It was clear I had lost a lot more of my stamina and technique than I assumed I had.

  “You’ll get it. We’ll get it,” Zane softly encouraged me as he picked up my towel and gently blotted my sweat-sheened skin. “Let’s try it again.”

  We had run through our number several times, and there was no doubt we needed to continue brushing up on all the hard edges—correction; I had to tighten up. There was no doubt it was Zane who was more at ease, graceful, and flawless in our number. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this inadequate in dance. Never mind. Scratch that. I knew when: never.

  I prided myself on the ability to pick up things quickly. Sure, I had to work hard on past dance techniques, but doubt had never plagued me. My body hadn’t failed me.

  “Nyet,” Anya’s Russian- accented voice stated from the door, “Peyton is tired.”

  I jumped slightly. “I’ve been tired before.” I sighed as I looked over at Anya. “I can work through it.”

  “You have five more hours of practice before you go to school, yes?” Anya raised a finely arched brow.

  She was a tiny slip of a woman, and I had about five inches on her, easily, but she still demanded my respect with just a single glance.

  I nodded before I took another sip of water. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered her, chagrined.

  “Don’t push too hard.” She gave me a stern look. “You still need to learn our group dance. Go to the coffee shop, take a break, eat something, and bring me back a coffee.”

  I wanted to protest and request one more run-through, but I could tell resistance would be futile. I didn’t want to be treated like an invalid. Madam Galiana, my previous instructor, would push us past the point of exhaustion. I remember plenty of times that my literal blood, sweat, and tears had been shed in her studio, and she still pushed us for more.

  “Come on, Peyton,” Zane quietly bade me.

  I nodded reluctantly. “I have to put on some sweats.”

  Zane threw a casual arm around my shoulders as he guided me towards the locker rooms. Inwardly I was screaming at my situation. I wanted to compete this weekend with Zane, but if our dance wasn’t ready, we couldn’t.

  Zane left me at the locker room door. “I’m going to grab a hoodie. I’ll be right back.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

  “Okay.” Sighing, I continued to sulk as I entered the room.

  I heard the chatter cease entirely and I froze. I had completely forgotten that the other girls would be here by now and getting dressed. I pretended they weren’t there as I made my way to my locker.

  Kayley was the first to break the silence as she came skipping over to me. “Hey, Peyton. Wait until you see our group number! It’s really cool.”

  Kayley was one of my cousins, one of my new family members who had never acted hostile. Renee had informed me that Anya had moved Kayley up to the senior elite team in my absence. Apparently, there was trouble in her sister Bailey’s paradise once more. Kayley had been given a solo in the last competition− over her sister− and it appeared as if she was taking the lead in our group number at our next competition.

  That had infuriated Bailey. Bailey was technically flawless, but she had horrible timing. It took her several practices to even be in step with the rest of us. Kayley, on the other hand, was technically impressive and picked up new dances rather quickly.

  “I told her we’re doing a number on loving an addict.” Renee smiled at me as she came over to us.

  “I can’t wait to learn it.” I tried to act enthusiastic.

  Truthfull
y, I was still brooding over the fact that Anya forced me to take a break. She might not have been the slave driver Madam Galiana was, but she always pushed us. Her unwillingness to let me run through the number until I was confident in it made me believe she doubted my ability to “bounce” back. I didn’t need any more doubters.

  I was my own worst critic. I needed the ones who loved and cared for me to be my cheering section, so to speak. If she began to doubt me, then my self-confidence was sure to tank.

  I pulled a pair of Golden’s sweats out of my duffel bag and pulled them on. I contemplated putting on an undershirt but quickly nixed that idea when I realized all eyes were still on me. I had no desire to be under their scrutiny longer than I had to be.

  “Where are you going? Practice is getting ready to start,” Bailey demanded as she eyed my sweatpants.

  I’m sure she recognized them. After all, she had dated Golden for a long time, and the sweats were clearly from our school's track team. She had broken up with Gloden when she assumed she could finally convince Zane to date her.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” I scoffed, “but I got here almost an hour ago. I’m taking a break.”

  She didn’t need to know I was forced to take a break. She also didn’t need to know I probably needed it. It was just hard to admit that to myself at the moment.

  “Must be nice to make your own hours,” Bailey scorned. “None of us would have been able to take as much time off as you and still have a place on the team.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Kayley jeered as she rolled her eyes. “You act like she had a choice.”

  Even though they were sisters, there was no love lost between them, mostly after Bailey had hung Kayley out to dry at a party about a month ago. Until recently, Bailey, Kayley, and their younger sister lived with their mother, Diane Delaney. Kayley was fed up with the toxic environment in her mother’s house, so she was currently living with her father.