After my junior year, I was encouraged by money hungry agents to enter the draft. My coach knew this was happening but never said anything. He didn’t have to. I could see everything he was feeling in his expression. He was sad and worried that his star quarterback was ditching out a year early. It’s not unheard of for an athlete to leave school early, but that wasn’t for me. I made a commitment to the school that took a chance on me and really wanted to lead them to a bowl game. I did, but we didn’t win. Still, it was one of the best decisions of my life.
And now here I am in my fourth year in the National Football League and the starting quarterback of a team that just wants to win. We have the tools in the players that we have. Our coach, Bud Walter, is one of the best but isn’t here for the long haul. He’s had a storied career and will be retiring soon, but until then he demands one hundred percent from us each and every time, and we do everything that we can to give it to him.
I stand behind the center Alex Moore. He’s one of my best friends, not because he’s meant to try and protect my ass from getting tackled or sacked each play, but because he’s a stand-up guy who doesn’t give a shit that my father is famous. I yell out my cadence and tap Alex on his ass in the event that he can’t hear me. Once the pigskin touches my hands, I’m backpedaling with my arm cocked and ready to fire. My targets are the wide receiver, Julius Cunningham, who has been in the league for five years or Chase Montgomery the tight end. Chase is one of the best in the league and asked for a trade once the expansion team was announced. He’s from Portland and wanted to be at home so his ailing mother could come to his games.
A monster of a tackle comes rushing toward me as I release the ball. I’m hit and thrown to the ground before I can see if it lands in Chase’s hands. By the roar of the crowd, it does and I scramble to stand so I can get back to the line of scrimmage only to find Chase dancing in the end zone.
Coach yells that we go for two and I’m contemplating his thought process as I hurry toward my offensive line. Going for two means our opponent has to score. Tying the game means we can go a few more minutes. I have never second-guessed Bud, and I shouldn’t be trying to now. I call out the play and resume my spot behind Alex. Once again my cadence is repeated and the ball is put into play.
The field before me is clear and I fire a rocket of a pass to Julius who catches it flawlessly in the end zone. My arms go up as I run toward him to celebrate, which is cut short because now we have to go back on defense.
“Westbury,” Bud yells my name as I reach the sideline.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Next time run more time off the clock.”
I nod and walk toward the bench and sit down. He’s right. I should’ve run some small routes instead of opening it up for the deep pass. Now we have to hold them on defense. I have faith in our cornerback, Cameron Simmons, but he can’t cover everyone.
Behind me, I can hear my grandmother Bianca yelling. Usually my it’s my dad and mom, along with my little sister, but my mom, along with her friends are in the Bahamas for the week, taking a much-needed vacation. It’s a toss-up between my grandma and my mom being the team’s biggest fans. Both of them insist that they sit behind the bench while my dad prefers to sit in the luxury suite. I get where he’s coming from. He gets tired of the security always around him. He wants to enjoy the game and not be hounded by fans all the time.
But my mom wants to be where the action is, and since they’re ridiculously in love, my father does whatever she wants. In turn, he tries to please my grandmother as well. They had a rocky relationship right up until my sister was born, but now they’re close and she’s making up for lost time.
My sister, Betty Paige, sits in between my dad and grandma with her nose tucked into a book. She has no desire to be a football fan, but my parents are adamant that she comes each weekend to support me.
Sometimes Nick and Aubrey, along with their two kids Mack and Amelie make the trip to Portland. It’s usually when the high school football team has a bye weekend. He’s still coaching and often asks my dad to help, especially with Mack playing now too. Nick and my dad are friendly, but will never be best friends. He saves that title for Harrison James and Jimmy Davis, his two band mates, both of whom are living in Los Angeles, far away from Beaumont.
Jimmy and Jenna, along with their daughter Eden chose to move to California after Harrison’s sister got married there one winter. Jenna fell in love with the beach and didn’t hesitate to pack up and move. Eden is some junior surfing champion or something like that and from what Quinn tells me, it drives Jimmy crazy.
With Quinn going to college in California and Elle following him, Katelyn wanted to be there even though Peyton decided that Northwestern in Chicago was more her speed. She’s making a name for herself while in school being a sports reporter and apparently has job offers pending from every sports channel out there.
Once I left for college, I came home as much as my schedule would allow. Most of the time my parents came to Indiana for the holidays and sometimes Peyton would come with them. I think, deep down, my parents knew that I needed to see Peyton more than Elle or Quinn. She’s my best friend, my confidant and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. When I was able to go home, it was rare that I would run into Quinn. After he graduated high school, he took off to Los Angeles and immersed himself in the music scene. I do, however, have every single song of his and am probably his biggest fan, minus the large contingent of women that he has following him around. It’s been a few years since we were all together and truthfully, I miss the group. I miss having everyone around. When we’re together, we’re inseparable, a tight-knit group and right now we’re spread all over the place.
I suppose the next big gatherings will be someone’s wedding and if my girlfriend, Dessie, has her way about it, it’ll be ours. I’m not there yet, but she is. She’s all about what everyone thinks and her fellow Victoria Secret models are telling her that she should have a ring already. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with waiting, with making sure that marriage is the right step.
I stand on the sideline with my hands gripping the neck of my jersey while I watch our defense give up yard after yard. The closer the opponent gets to the end zone the more my ass is puckering. If they score, the game is over. Their quarterback is seasoned and knows how to bleed the clock making sure that we’ll have no time left.
We hold them on the forty and I groan when they send their kicker out. He’s one of the best in the business and hasn’t missed this year. Still, I stand there next to Bud and watch as he lines up and prepares to kick.
The ball is hiked, he starts his motion and his foot connects with the ball. Sure enough, it flies through the uprights as the clock expires. I hang my head as people pat me on my shoulders and tell me good game.
Good isn’t enough. Not in my book. I want to win. I want the city to be proud of their football team. I want players to want to come here, to play here and make our team stronger and that isn’t going to happen if we don’t start winning.
After giving the other team congratulations, I head to the bleachers where my family is waiting.
“Good game,” Paige says, even though she doesn’t mean it.
“Did you watch, Little B?”
She shakes her head and shrugs sheepishly. At twelve she’d rather read, shop, and pretend that she isn’t crushing on Mack Ashford.
“Tough loss,” my dad says as he reaches out to shake my hand. “The clock--”
“Yeah, coach said the same thing. I’ll work on it.”
“Well, I thought you were great,” my grandmother says.
My dad and I look at her and shake our heads. “You’re supposed to say that because you’re my grandmother.”
She waves her hand dismissing both of us. That’s one thing Bianca Westbury doesn’t do, she doesn’t sugarcoat. I love her, but she has no filter. I think that is why she and my mom get along so well. My mom doesn’t hold back either.
We
like to give my mom a hard time about how she reacts. During the game, she cusses like a sailor and threatens bodily harm if she feels like I’m not being protected. But when she’s talking to me, she’s sweet and syrupy, telling me that everything is okay. My dad calls her the Jekyll and Hyde of sports mothers. My grandmother is the same.
“I’ll meet you guys at the hotel. I need to shower and go pick up Dessie.”
After a quick team meeting and a shower, I’m home and walking into the arms of Dessie. She’s usually at my games unless she has to work. She spent the last week in Costa Rica shooting a spread for a swimsuit catalog that will be out this spring.
“Sorry about the loss,” she says into my shoulder. I breathe her in and am instantly relaxed. “Was it because I wasn’t there?”
Oh how easy that would be. I laugh and pull away from her. “No, just wasn’t our game to win,” I tell her. “Are you ready to go to dinner with my family?”
She nods, but her enthusiasm doesn’t exactly meet her eyes. Dessie is convinced that my mother doesn’t like her. I tell her that she’s just being silly and that my mom loves everyone. I have never asked my mom if she likes Dessie or not and figured that if she has a problem with her, she’d say something. I don’t bother telling her that my mom isn’t here today because that might give her a false sense of security. Bianca Westbury’s wrath is ten times worse than my mom’s.
The hotel that everyone is at is only two blocks away from my apartment, allowing us to walk over. If it isn’t my name being called by the people we pass, it’s Dessie’s. Rarely can we go out around town without someone noticing either of us. I guess it’s a good thing when you think about it, and honestly, it’s something I’ve been used to since I was about ten.
When we arrive, Paige opens the door. She’s crying and one look at my dad tells me something is really wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, causing my father to stop his frantic packing.
“It’s Peyton.”
“What about her?” I ask, reaching for my grandmother as she brushes past me with Betty Paige’s bag.
“She was in a car accident, Noah. Harrison says they don’t expect her to make it. We have to go to Chicago.”
“Wh-what?” I ask, swallowing hard. My tongue feels thick and foreign in my mouth, while my stomach rumbles.
My dad shakes his head. “I’ve called for a chartered flight. Your mom… they’re on their way from the Bahamas now on the band’s plane.”
“Harrison?”
“Chartered a flight with Elle, Quinn, JD and Eden. They’re all coming.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say. My dad doesn’t say anything because he already knows that is where I need to be.
“Noah?” Dessie says my name quietly. I look at her and she shakes her head. “We have plans.”
I close my eyes and process what she’s saying. “My best friend has been in an accident. I have to go to her.” I look deep into Dessie’s eyes, looking for any sign that she understands what I’m saying.
“…It’s always about Peyton.”
She’s right. It is. She’s all I’m going to think about because this can’t be happening to her. It’s all I can think about as I storm out of the suite when I was ten and my uncle Mason was killed. This can’t happen to Elle and Katelyn, not again.
3
Peyton
There I am, on a gurney with eight, nine or maybe it’s ten people working frantically to save my life. They yell loudly and demand things that don’t make sense to me all while machines constantly beep and my blood pools on the floor as someone screams that they have a bleeder. I have a tube coming out of my mouth and my eyes are taped shut, except I can see everything that is happening and I seem to be breathing okay. The clothes I wore are tattered and some pieces lay haphazardly on the floor with shards of glass embedded in the fabric while my chest is open and exposing my organs, yet I seem to be dressed. My brown hair is now jet-black and half my scalp’s missing. Consciously, I reach up to feel my hair, but everything seems to be normal. So why am I there on the table, bleeding, broken and dying when I’m standing here watching everything happening.
“She’s crashing!” the doctor yells as someone hands him two wands. They look like drumsticks with small symbols on the end. If my dad saw them, he would have a fit. He would never allow me to play his drums with something like those. His drums are precious to him, at least the ones that stay in the spare bedroom at my parents’ house, that I’m allowed to play when I visit. When they moved to Los Angeles, I cried. I felt like I no longer belonged anywhere. My brother Quinn was already there and Elle was far too excited to leave me by myself in Chicago.
But they’re not drumsticks because the doctor puts them into that gaping hole where my breasts used to be. Whatever he does, they cause me to jerk off the table. My body on the table feels it, but I don’t. He does it again and again, barking out orders as if he’s in charge. After each jerk, everyone pauses and watches one of the monitors.
“She’s back,” one of the nurses says. Where do they think I went? Do they not realize that I am on the table, waiting for them to fix me up so I can go to dinner with Kyle?
Where is Kyle? He was with me in the car, smiling at me as we pulled out of the parking lot. But where did he go. I look at the door and see people running by and I’m curious to know where Kyle is.
Out in the hall, the noise is different and the lights seem brighter. There is more yelling and alarms continue to beep. In the room next to mine, someone lays on the table with a sheet pulled over their face. I hate sleeping like that because I feel like I can’t breathe.
The nurses are all wearing blue and green, but none of them stop and ask me what I’m doing or ask me if I’m hungry. I am, hungry that is because Kyle promised me dinner but somehow we’re here. I don’t think this was his idea of a good time. It’s definitely not mine.
The room across from me is empty, but there’s blood on the floor. A man brushes by me, whistling and pushing a mop bucket. He slops the wet threads onto the floor and pushes the puddles around, repeating the process until all the blood is gone then he’s breezing by me again.
I go back to my room and now there are fewer people by me. A few of them leave the room with their hands and gowns covered in my blood, while the others filter around me.
“Let’s stitch her up and get her to ICU. Has anyone contacted her parents?”
“They’re on their way.”
They are? My parents are coming to Chicago? But it’s cold and snowing. My parents hate the snow. I can’t imagine that they would want to come here when I could easily go see them at the beach house.
A big burly man comes in and the nurses pile wires onto of my bed as the man pushes me out the room. I follow behind because I need to know where they’re taking me. The room is small but with a very large window. After the nurse plugs everything back in, she pauses at my bedside and runs her hands through my hair, picking out more shards of glass. Each piece tings as it hits the stainless pan that is resting on my chest.
“You’re going to be okay, sweet girl,” she says.
“How do you know?” I ask, but she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even look at me. She just keeps running her hand through my hair.
“Your parents will be here soon. As soon as they get here, we’ll let them right in so they can see you. I bet your mom will spend the night because if you were my daughter, that is what I’d do. I’ll make sure she has a blanket and pillow.”
“Do you know my mom?”
She still doesn’t answer me.
“What about my dad? He’s famous, ya know. I bet if you ask him, he’ll give you his autograph.”
She still doesn’t respond. I wave my hand in front of her face, but she’s focused on my body that lies in the bed being kept alive by the machines that beep incessantly. She continues to talk, telling my body about her family and how she doesn’t have any children but wants to have a daughter with brown hair.
/> “What color eyes do you have, sweetie?” she asks.
“Noah says I have blue eyes like the ocean, but sometimes they change when I’m angry,” I tell her but she doesn’t acknowledge me.
A man enters my room and opens the binder that rests on the counter near my bed. “How’s she doing?”
“I think she’s waiting for her parents to get here. I don’t know how she’s alive,” she says.
I look from her to my body and wonder the same thing. If I die, I can be with my father. I miss him, he has missed so much of my life that I would love to talk to him, to tell him everything.
But I would miss my sister. She’s my best friend even though she’s living in California I talk to her every day. Except I didn’t tell her about Kyle and I need to. Elle would like him. He’s cute, seems smart and was very polite when he escorted me out of the stadium.
And I’d miss my mom. She’s already been through so much but has Harrison to take care of her. He sure does love her and us. He’s always treated Elle and I like his daughters. It was like he was meant to come into our lives after my father passed away. He and Quinn saved us, made us whole.
“Does anyone know what time her parents will be here?” the doctor asks.
“They’re flying in from California. I don’t know if anyone knows what time they got a flight.”
“I’ll stay until they arrive so I can talk to them,” he says before writing something down in the book. I try to see what it is, but the words are blurry.
“I’m not leaving her,” the nurse says. “I want to be here with her, just in case… so I can tell her mom that she didn’t die alone.”
Holding Onto Forever (The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Book 1) Page 2
