The Day That Saved Us (27 page)

AFTER BROOKE ARRIVED
and spent a couple minutes meeting my mom, we had to head straight to Harper’s house for the rehearsal thing. Brooke was running behind, like always, so the hour I thought we’d have in between her arriving and getting to Harper’s was cut short. Harper will kill me if I’m late to this thing.

“Is your mom not coming?” Brooke asks as we get in my car.

It’s one thing for my mom to be in the same room as my dad and Olivia with a hundred other people. It’s another for her to be at a low-key dinner in Harper’s parents’ backyard. She’s stoic, but not a glutton for punishment.

“No…she’ll just be coming to the wedding tomorrow.” I try to casually say it, but even I hear the hesitation in my voice.

“Is there a reason she’s not coming?”

The only detail about my family history Brooke is familiar with is the fact that my parents are divorced. That’s it. She never asked for more information, and I never offered it. Not because I was trying to hide it from her. I don’t share my dysfunctional family with anyone, if I can help it. With her here in Charleston, the rest of the details are bound to come out, and I know Brooke will be more upset if she doesn’t hear it from me. “You know my friend, Peyton Parker?”

“The beautiful blonde, how could I forget?”

I ignore the mocking in her voice. “My dad is married to her mom.”

As I peer at Brooke from the corner of my eye, she blinks, and then looks straight forward. I give her a minute to let it all fall into place. I know it eventually will.

“The girl you grew up living next to,” she says slowly. “So, Peyton’s your stepsister. Not just your friend.”

“Well…” I clear my throat, wanting to throw up after hearing that reference. “Technically, yeah.”

“Why did you take so long to tell me that?”

Because I hate calling her my stepsister. Because I hate to relive that part of the summer. Because I hate how warped my family is. Because I hate that what they did destroyed my mom and the future I wanted.
Which answer do you think she would prefer?

“It’s complicated. I hate talking about it.” I give Brooke the basics of my family history, but I intentionally leave out the part where Peyton and I fell in love the summer our parents decided to do the same.

“So, they’ll be there tonight because Harper and Peyton are best friends.”

“Yeah, and my mom would prefer the least amount of contact as possible.”

“Understandable.” She nods. I keep looking at her, thinking she’ll see through something. Like she’ll somehow know Peyton and I have a history, even though I’ve never mentioned a word of it. She smiles and looks relieved, which confuses me. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Brooke peers over at me. It’s like I gave her good news. “With how uncomfortable you were to talk about your family, I always knew there was something off, but I imagined it being so much worse.”

How could it get any worse?
It’s clear she doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation since she didn’t witness all that was lost. Not just the love I’d lost, but the relationships our families had. Even though I’d told her Peyton was a close family friend, and our families had done everything together growing up, Brooke doesn’t seem to get it. She doesn’t understand what we all lost.

When I don’t say anything back, she says, “People cheat, Brodee. It happens. If you’re worried I’ll dislike your dad or judge him, I won’t. Not that I condone the cheating. At all. But I won’t make any judgments until I meet him. You don’t have anything to be worried about. All families have baggage.”

That’s what she thought I was worried about? That she would judge my family’s baggage?
Judge my dad all you want,
I nearly say.
I do.

BROOKE AND I
walk hand-in-hand through the open gate into Harper’s backyard. She gasps. “It’s like an enchanted forest.”

I focus in to see what she sees. Harper’s yard is a lot bigger than I remember. They’ve already started setting up for the ceremony tomorrow. Tall logs are placed upright around the Days’ yard. Not sure what they’ll be used for yet. Flowers, maybe? Lights have been wrapped around all the tree trunks, and crystal chandeliers hang from the branches. It’s pretty cool.

Harper comes from money, but you’d never know by looking at her. Peyton once told me her parents wanted a sweet Southern belle, but got opinionated, free-spirited Harper instead. I liked her more after hearing that. I think I might have felt a kindred spirit in her, wanting to defy parents’ expectations. She was brave enough to do what I never could.

Harper is barking orders at everyone, instructing them where to stand. Peyton, Skylar’s little sister, and some girls I remember meeting at USC are lined up on one side of the back fence while Skylar and all our buddies are lined up on the other. Peyton catches my gaze first. Her initial response is a smile, but it quickly falls.

“Fisher!” Jackson shouts.

“Heeeey!” Issac and Mike holler.

Robby breaks out of line and comes barreling at me, and the rest follow suit. I let go of Brooke’s hand before they tackle me. We haven’t all been together since the night of graduation. I feel shenanigans on the horizon. Before Harper kills us all, I break away, laughing, and look to her.

Her arms are crossed over her chest with her hip popped. “You’re late, best man,” she says like I may be next in line to receive a whooping.

“I’m know. I’m sorry,” I apologize with a smile, but don’t out Brooke for being the reason. “Tell me where to go.”

She points next to Skylar, keeping her look of annoyance until I walk past her and wink to soften her up. She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifts. When I take my place and look back to where I left Brooke, I see Tyler standing a few feet away, talking to Harper’s older brother, Ethan, and her dad. When we make eye contact, he gives me a head nod. I hate it when he does that so casually. As if we’re old friends. We were never friends.

It’s not a secret that I’ve never been a fan of Tyler. He’s rubbed me the wrong way since the moment we first met. I don’t know why. He’s never done anything to me personally, and it doesn’t have to do with the fact that he was with Peyton all those summers, because I didn’t always feel this way about her. Peyton was charmed by his good looks and Southern boy charm, but I’ve always seen something more. I’ve never been able to pinpoint it. And now that they’re engaged, I’ll never be rid of him. Bile rises up my throat. He’ll be
family
.

I’M WITH BROOKE
, talking to Mike and Robby after we finish the ceremony rehearsal, when Peyton walks up.

“You must be Brooke.” She smiles cheerfully and leads with her hand outstretched.

Brooke takes it and returns the smile easily. I have a feeling her expression would be different had Brooke not known what she knows now. “Yes, and you must be Peyton. It’s really nice to meet you.” She sounds so genuine, and I have to hand it to her, after all the times she’s cringed at the mention of Peyton’s name—without even knowing what we used to be to one another—I’m surprised she’s being so friendly.

“You’re even more beautiful in person,” Peyton says. Brooke looks confused, nearly accusatory until Peyton explains, “I’ve seen the pictures you’ve tagged of Brodee and you together.”

I stand silently, unable to figure out how I feel about this conversation.

“Oh, duh,” Brooke says with a laugh.

When Brooke and I first started to hang out, she saw a picture of Peyton and me on my nightstand. It was the last picture we took together. We were sitting on our surfboards on the sand with the boardwalk and the beach house behind us. Her head rested on my shoulder as we smiled at the camera. I saw the wheels turning in Brooke’s head then, wondering if I was unattached, why did I have a picture of such a pretty girl by my bed. That was when the white lie began.
We were best friends growing up.
And it actually wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

As she laughs and talks with Peyton, I realize Brooke no longer feels threatened by my beautiful friend, Peyton. She looks at her like they might become best friends someday
. If our parents are married I can’t possibly have anything going on with her.

And I don’t.

And I never will.

Tyler sneaks up behind Peyton and possessively wraps his arms around her waist, burrowing his face in her neck.
We get it, dude. She’s yours. Why don’t you beat your chest while you’re at it?

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek, and then looks at me. “Long time no see, bruh.”
Bruh? Who talks like that?
Does he think I talk like that? Because I know he doesn’t talk like that. He sounds so dumb. Tyler holds up his hand for me to high-five. To keep from causing tension, I return the high-five and smile as cordially as I can manage.

Tyler’s eyes roam to Brooke, and his smile widens.
No, no.
I grab her waist and pull her to my side as discretely as I can.
You can’t have them both. This one’s mine. I’ll beat my chest right back at you, if that’s the only language you understand.

“Brooke, this is Tyler. Peyton’s fiancé.” It feels like I’ve swallowed glass every time I say it. “They got engaged this week.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shakes his hand and inches closer to me. I like it. It’s almost as if she catches the same vibes I do.

And then, because I said fiancé, I look to Peyton’s left hand to see a rock on her ring finger. It’s the size of my fist. The thing has to be like two or three carats.

“Oh!” Brooke exclaims, delayed. “Congratulations! Let’s see the ring!”

Peyton looks uncomfortable, but smiles and lifts her hand anyway. When I get a closer look, I see that it’s a huge oval with more diamonds circling it. I’m surprised her finger can tolerate the weight of it. It looks nothing like Peyton.
Did she even pick it out?

I look at her, and she’s gnawing on her lip. Peyton meets my eyes when she feels me staring. All she does is shrug, like she knows I’m asking if she likes the ring. She should be beaming. She should be excited to show it off. Instead, she looks self-conscious and embarrassed. But is she embarrassed because she likes the gaudy thing or because she realizes I know the truth? Tyler doesn’t know her at all.