The Natural History of Us

by Rachel Harris

  “We mainly board dogs,” she told me, this time taking my elbow as we walked down the hall. She rapped her knuckles on the whiteboard listing the salon schedule. “Grooming and training sessions are included with every stay, but some dogs come in just for those things. Except for days when we’re really slammed, Mom handles the salon while we exercise the dogs.”

  About halfway down the corridor, she stopped in front of a window overlooking a pond and fenced-in field. A cool breeze blew in through the opened glass, lifting the loose strands of her hair and bringing with it the sound of incessant yapping.

  “That’s Trevor,” she said, nodding toward a figure in the center of the chaos. I narrowed my eyes, curious about my competition.

  The guy appeared to be around my age, maybe a little older, leaning back in a Houston Texans folding chair. His head bopped to the old-school rap floating in the air, his lips moving in complete unison to the words. Some sort of cartoon character was ironed onto his oversized black hoodie, his hair was a muddy brown mop on his head, and his tennis shoes were two different colors—neon yellow and magenta.

  Peyton pressed her chest against the windowpane. “How’s Mitzy today?”

  Without turning around, Trevor stopped singing and scooped a black poodle onto his lap. “The little beauty’s got it now!” he called back.

  “Sweet!”

  After executing the cutest victory dance imaginable, Peyton went on to discuss various training methods, treats, and even dog poop with the dude. I’m talking frequency, color, and even consistency. The least sexy topics known to man—and the guy didn’t check her out once. By the time she waved goodbye and continued our trek down the hall, it was safe to say any insecurities I’d had were obliterated.

  Honestly, though, now that I knew where I stood, I was actually impressed with the guy. His style was wacked, but he clearly knew his shit when it came to dogs, and his rank in Golfweek Magazine spoke for itself. That was the other sport, apart from baseball, Dad loved. Half his business deals were held on the fairway and he took an annual trip to Scotland and Ireland to play with his colleagues. I, on the other hand, had never held a club. He’d never bothered to teach me.

  At the end of the hall, Peyton stopped in front of a closed door marked Salon where a low buzzing emanated. A woman’s voice lifted over the hum.

  “Baby, let me be. Your loving… teddy bear.”

  Eyebrow quirked, I exchanged a glance with Peyton.

  “Put a chain around my neck… Uh huh.”

  The improvised musical stylings trailed off into a series of melodic grunts and finger snaps, accompanied by excited doggy yaps. It appeared Elvis was in the building. And that he enjoyed a good grooming. Peyton closed her eyes and hung her head.

  I grinned and bumped her shoulder. “Wouldn’t “Hound Dog” be a better choice?” I mused aloud. She shot me a look through a veil of strawberry blonde hair. “No, seriously—”

  “Who’s a good boy?” the woman’s voice asked in baby-talk from the other side. “Yeah, who’s a good boy? That’s right, you are. You’re a good boy.”

  Peyton groaned and knocked her head against the door once, twice, three times. The disembodied voice invited us inside.

  “Mama, we’ve got company,” Peyton said as she pushed open the door. A half-shaved chocolate lab stood on a table with a leash around its neck and a woman in front of it, facing away from us. “Is there any way we can try to tone down the crazy, at least until he leaves?”

  “Never hide what you are, dear,” she replied with a disapproving tsk.

  It was such a mom thing to say, or at least what I’d imagined a mom would say, that I laughed as I leaned against the doorjamb. Peyton eyed me with a traitorous expression. “Sorry, Sunshine, but I’ve got to go with your mom on this one. Besides, I like crazy.”

  The buzz from the clippers stopped and the woman turned around. She was an older version of Peyton. “Oh, I like that. Hello there, I’m Grace, Peyton’s weirdo, crazy, embarrassing mother. And you are…?”

  “Mama, this is Justin,” Peyton answered for me. “He’s the one who brought me home today and he’s hanging out while his ride runs an errand. I thought I’d show him around and introduce him to Oakley.”

  The light, easy smile suddenly slipped from her mother’s face, replaced by a strange, borderline fearful expression. She glanced away and swallowed. “Do you ride, Justin?”

  Confused, I pushed away from the doorframe. “Uh, no ma’am,” I told her. “The closest I’ve ever come to a horse is on a hayride when I was eight. Don’t really have an interest in getting much closer, either.”

  That answer seemed to please her, which was strange considering she owned a ranch. “Oh, well that’s good.” The clippers buzzed back to life as she turned back to Buster. “I better finish this up for Mrs. Murden. You two have fun.”

  That was… odd. Peyton wouldn’t meet my eyes while she walked past, snagging my hand as she did. I followed her out the room, down the hall, and past a curious Faith who waved at us with her pointer finger, right through the door and onto the front porch. The moment the screen door closed behind us, she let go of my hand and leaned against the wall.

  Her breath was labored, her eyes shut tight, and she looked so vulnerable it took everything in me not to tug her to my chest and wrap her in my arms. Peyton was confident and shy, open yet confusing, and so far out of my league it wasn’t even funny. But hell if I was going anywhere just yet.

  “So where’s this badass horse I was promised I’d meet?”

  Slowly, her eyelids opened and her eyes found mine. I wouldn’t push her to talk if she wasn’t ready. Hell, if she were ready, I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Touchy-feely crap wasn’t my forte. Distraction, however, was another story.

  I glanced around the wide horseless porch and gave a bored sigh. “Well, Sunshine? I ain’t getting any younger here.”

  Clamping her lips together, she stifled what appeared to be a grin before lowering her gaze to the floor. She inhaled deeply and let it out. When she raised her head again, her smile was almost blinding. “Well, come on, then.”

  The barn, as it turned out, was pretty much what you’d expect. Light gray wood, bales of hay, and tools. Four horses stood in their stalls, watching me quietly as I walked by until we came to a stop in front of number five.

  “This is Oakley,” Peyton said, her voice soft and sort of reverent. The horse was a warm chestnut color, all but for a long white stripe down her nose. She gently ran her hand along the slope.

  “She’s a sorrel quarter horse,” she continued, and I nodded as though I had a clue what that meant. Pressing her face against the horse, she breathed in and wrapped her arms around Oakley’s neck. Then she turned her head and gave me a small smile. “You should see her cut on a turn. She’s amazing.”

  “When do I get to see you ride?” I asked, my voice low. It felt like if I spoke too loud, too quick, it would ruin… something. The moment. The look in her eyes.

  But then a voice broke in, ruining everything anyway.

  “Hopefully within the next year.” A dude stepped out of the shadows, running his hand along Oakley’s nose right behind Peyton. Practically caging her in with his body. “CC’s amazing out there.”

  He smiled down at her and my eyes narrowed. I knew this game. Hell, I wrote the damn playbook. What I didn’t know was who this guy was or why he was playing it with me. “CC?”

  “Just a silly nickname,” Peyton mumbled. She ducked out from under the guy’s hold and leaned against a beam near the stall. The guy turned to me, dropping his smile.

  “Can chaser,” he explained. “It means she’s a barrel racer.” He took in my unlaced tennis shoes, a far cry from his roughed up cowboy boots, and his eyebrows lifted behind his wire-rimmed frames. “Are you here for lessons?”

  With the way he kept glancing back at Peyton and the dust covering his clothes, I guessed this to be Cade. “Nah, Sunshine’s just showing me around,” I replied w
ith a smile, showing I had my own nickname for CC.

  Like I’d said, I knew this game.

  But then something he’d said before finally registered and I dropped the smirk. “Wait, why hopefully within the year?” I turned my gaze to Peyton. “Why not now?”

  “Because it’s too soon,” Cade cut in, answering for her again. Seriously, this guy needed to back the hell off. He stared at me as if I’d suggested she take a flying leap off the town water tower. “She needs to stick with the program.”

  The program. Something about the way he said it struck me as odd. Just like that weird moment inside with her mom.

  “What am I missing here?” I asked, keeping my focus on Peyton, wanting her to answer. She nibbled some more on her bottom lip and shifted her gaze between the two of us. Cade, the little shit, stayed silent for once, but his hands did find her shoulders, rubbing them gently like in comfort. My back teeth clicked. “Why can’t you get up there now and show me a thing or two?”

  Peyton’s shoulders drew in slightly, and she looked so deflated, so fragile, that I felt like the biggest ass for even asking… which made no sense. Wasn’t this her thing? Wasn’t that why she brought me here?

  When she opened her eyes again, the emotions swirling inside nearly crushed me.

  “I guess you’d find out eventually,” she said, stepping away again from Cade’s side. He frowned, and despite my confusion, I fought a surge of satisfaction. She sucked in her lips, then released them. “I had GBS.”

  There was so much pain and fear in her voice, and her shoulders curled slightly into her chest. Cade shifted protectively, and although I had no clue what she was talking about, I realized that whatever this was, it was big. “GBS?”

  “Guillain-Barre Syndrome,” she clarified, looking away. “It’s a disorder that affects the nervous system. It’s rare. No one really ever talks about it or even knows how or why some people get it. But it’s not contagious or anything. I was in and out of the hospital and rehab for the last year…” She shook her head and formed a tight smile. “But I’m fine now.”

  Cade scoffed. “I’d say it’s a little more than that, CC.”

  Peyton nailed him with a glare. “Fine. So I’m not exactly completely healed, but I will be.”

  Her chin tipped up, as if she was daring either of us to disagree. I for sure as hell wasn’t. Her shoulders were squared, her back straight, and I figured she could do just about anything she wanted to. She stepped up beside me, that sunny smile struggling for a comeback even though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Want to come see my room?”

  It was obvious there was a lot she was leaving out, parts of this disease that were still messing with her, and I wanted to know. God help me, I wanted to ask more and be this girl’s protector. But then she took my hand again, clutching it almost desperately, and I found another way to do exactly that.

  Then Cade made a noise in his throat, and when I looked over, I found him staring hard at our linked hands. Call me a dick, but that made my entire day. Win-win.

  “Sure thing, pretty girl,” I replied and watched as a genuine smile, one that did reach her eyes, curved her mouth. The expression of complete gratitude trumped any scowl Cade could’ve thrown my way.

  Peyton wrapped her other hand around my elbow and said, “See ya later, Cade.”

  As she led me out the barn, I couldn’t help but glance back. “Yeah, later, Cade.”

  His gaze met mine and I smirked.

  THURSDAY, MAY 22ND

  2 Weeks until Graduation

  ♥Senior Year

  JUSTIN

  SWEET SERENITY RANCH 5:20 P.M.

  Stepping foot on Peyton’s ranch is like coming home again. Well, coming home if you live in the Old West, wear giant belt buckles to dinner, or, you know, have people who actually want you there.

  Welcome or not though, I close my eyes and breathe deep. The earthy scent of kicked-up dust, sweet hay, and faint manure fills my head and I lean back against my Jeep, my knees suddenly weak. It’s crazy that this place, more than the clean, sanitary, Pine-sol scented structure I’ve lived in my entire life, makes me feel like this—content and happy, like a puzzle piece finally locking in.

  Peyton’s ranch is the only spot in the world—other than the baseball diamond—that I’ve ever felt like I belonged. Where I’m welcomed, just as I am, without expectation. It’s like a black-and-white sitcom where moms give hugs and bake apple pies, dads pass the potatoes and ask how your day was, and the girl of your dreams holds your hand beneath the table, a curtain of strawberry blonde hair masking her smile.

  No more screw-ups, Carter.

  Dinner at Carmela’s was a shitastic disaster. I got cocky and threw it all out there too soon, banking on the old Peyton sitting across from me, the one who was shy and unsure at times but always went after what she wanted. She was fearless because she had to be.

  That wasn’t the girl who showed up to the restaurant.

  This new Peyton is skittish, like one of the wary horses in her barn. At least around me. To even have a shot at winning her back, I’ll have to stick with the game plan from here on out. Take things slow, start with being her friend, and not push whenever we work together on the project. That’s what I’ve been trying to do since the dinner. I’ve got her sitting next to me in class, meeting me in study hall, even emailing the paper back and forth, and that’s a hell of a step from where we were a week ago. Now I just need to prove that she can trust me again.

  Like that’ll ever happen.

  As I kick myself yet again over my appallingly poor choices in the past, the musical notes of Peyton’s laugh float toward me on the wind. I turn away from the paddock and find her standing on the porch of the doghouse, her head tipped back with a smile bigger than Texas on her face. That’s the Peyton I remember. A grin makes its way to my mouth before my gaze shifts and I discover the reason for that smile. Cade is right beside her, an expression of pure reverence on his face, watching her like he’s freaking king of the world.

  I can’t even blame him. I used to look the same way whenever I made her laugh like that. But seeing her hand on his chest and the smile she used to send me directed at him almost makes me lose it. And when his arm slides around her waist, tugging her close, I finally do.

  Slam.

  Peyton’s eyes snap to mine as my closing door echoes across the field. Cade turns, too, and when his eyes meet mine, that King of the World expression turns to complete and total loathing.

  Bring it on, horse boy.

  “Hey, hot stuff. Long time since you’ve come around here.” Faith steps out from the barn, a few feet away from where I’m standing. She drops a bucket and blanket on the ground then glances toward the doghouse. When she turns back, her eyes are twinkling. “As you can see, no one’s been pining in your absence.”

  Okay, I deserve that. It doesn’t make hearing the truth any easier, but I get it. Once upon a time, Faith and I used to be sort of friends. We hung out at the front desk whenever Peyton was out back bathing a dog—occasionally I’d help out with training, but washing and grooming mutts wasn’t my thing. Faith would talk my ear off about her vlog, I’d pretend to follow along, and once, she even got me to read off the season’s fashion trends. She still owed me for that one. But with all that behind us, I expected a warmer welcome. Then again, that was all before I screwed everything up so royally.

  Swallowing my pride, I shove my hands deep into my pockets. “You let her go out with that spineless weasel?” I ask, nodding back toward where Cade and Peyton are now talking heatedly. It’s almost enough to put the smile back on my face. “What kind of best friend are you?”

  It might not look like it, what with me insulting her, but I know what I’m doing. Getting the best friend on my side, buttering her up, is crucial… and to play the game right, you have to know the other players.

  Faith is an original. Snarky, with a true heart of gold. Fiercely loyal and protective of Peyton, but also the devilish voic
e in her ear, whispering to let loose and be spontaneous. She was my biggest ally when Peyton and I were together, and I’m counting on that support again. But first, she has to know that I want in.

  Faith sizes me up and answers, “The kind that watched you destroy her three years ago.”

  That knocks me for a bit of a loop, just as she knew it would.

  “It’s not what you think,” I tell her, taking a step closer. “I messed up and I’m not denying that, but I did what I did to protect her. I let her believe the worst but I promise you, I didn’t cheat. Not really.”

  Faith scoffs and glances over her shoulder again where Peyton and Cade appear to be getting into it. “Don’t go pulling some crap about Diamond Dolls not counting or being in different zip codes—”

  “I never touched her.”

  I can’t say it any clearer than that and I need her to know the truth. I need at least one person on my side.

  Faith pins me with a, “do you think I was born yesterday?” look, and I shrug.

  “Not then, at least. Look, Lauren and I hooked up, but not until junior year. I never said I was a saint. Just…” I shove my hand through my hair and squeeze the back of my neck. “Just not a cheater. I did what I did because I thought it was best.” I hesitate before adding, “For everyone.”

  I don’t know how much Peyton shared with her best friend. If Faith doesn’t know everything that went down back then, it sure as hell isn’t my place to spill. Besides, it’ll only make Peyton run faster.

  My hands slap against my thighs as I growl in frustration. This is fucking pointless. The evidence was damning—I should know, I planned it to be that way. And hell, I did hook up with Lauren eventually. Maybe this whole plan is doomed for failure. Maybe I should let Peyton go. Let her be happy with Cade.

  Even the thought tastes like bile on my tongue.

  Looking past Faith, I watch my girl slowly make her way toward me. She and Cade evidently sorted out their shit, and now confusion and anger battle it out with something else in her eyes. Something that dares to give me hope.