The Natural History of Us (39 page)

A sharp
rap
on the window scares the shit out of me. Some stalker I am—I have zero sense of my surroundings. Hand to heart, I shift in my seat, and find myself on the other end of Cade's guarded gaze.

Awesome, just how I wanted to spend the day. With a sigh, I yank open the door and step onto the steaming ground. “Cade.”

He ignores me, his eyes shifting to Peyton. “She looks good up there, doesn't she?”

“She does,” I agree, feeling my muscles tense. His stupid cowboy hat shades his eyes and I can't get a read on him. What's his angle now? Feigning aloofness, I lean back against my door. “I reckon she'll be at full speed in no time.”

Internally, I shake my head.
Reckon
? Apparently, country is contagious.

Cade's eyes cut to me. “That's on you.”

My head rears back in confusion and I try to remember what we were even talking about. “Huh?”

“Her riding,” he explains with a nod that tips his hat. I'm trapped in a damn western. “You helped her when I couldn't. She's up there on that horse because of you.”

I'm too shocked to respond. In fact, my thoughts race as I search for possible motives or hidden meanings behind his words, but I find none. Cade's face is resigned and almost even friendly. The muscles in my shoulders relax a fraction.

“I was here the day she fell,” he says, gently kicking my rear tire with his boot. He turns and rests his back against the frame. “We were damn lucky that it was only a wrist fracture. But I'd never seen Peyton so devastated.” His throat strains with a swallow. “About a year later, I asked her why she pushed so hard that day. Why she went against what her therapists told her and rode Oakley.”

I don't like where this is going. Warning signs are blaring but I ask anyway, “And what did she say?”

Cade looks at me. “That you two had broken up.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I hadn't even known you were together.”

I scrub a hand over my face as my world crashes to a halt. “No one did,” I manage to croak. “Faith knew, but…”

“That girl knows everything,” he finishes for me, and I nod once, feeling the bile rise up my throat.

God, I'm a schmuck.

It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together. Peyton fell and broke her wrist the same day I broke her heart. It was almost poetic in its utter shittiness.

I bang my head against the window and Cade glances back at Peyton.

“It probably would've happened anyway,” he continues. “She's always been a spitfire. Stubborn as hell. If y'all breaking up hadn't pushed her, it would've been something else.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “But it wasn't something else, was it?”

Cade turns, leaning his shoulder against the Jeep so he can face me. “Look, I'm not here to start anything or make you feel like shit. I just thought you deserved to know the full story. CC and I may not be together anymore, but I'll never stop being her friend. I'll never stop looking out for her.”

“What are you getting at, man?”

“I want to know what your plans are,” he tells me. “The draft is next week and I still don't know where your head is. Are you going pro or are you headed to college? Do you want to be with Peyton or not? I know it's none of my business, I get that, but the girl's been through enough. For the last three years, she's been locked in a shell, and I'd hoped to be the one to get her out. But it's not me… it's you. It's always been you. Just look at that smile on her face.”

I follow his gaze to Peyton riding and, sure enough, her huge smile is back.

As if he's reading my thoughts he says, “It's not just her smile, either. She's back on a horse, too. Hell,
she's
back. I don't want to lose her again or see you break her.”

He doesn't say, “like you did before,” but I get the point, and the implication hits me like a two-by-four. “That's the last thing I want to do,” I tell him, my legs suddenly weak. My head falls back against the Jeep and what feels like the weight of the world presses down on my shoulders.

Cade studies me for a beat, then pushes away from the door and adjusts his hat. “Good,” he says. “Then I guess we're on the same page.” Glancing back at the main house he asks, “You coming inside?”

I swallow past the lump of terror in my throat and shake my head. “Nah. I better get going. Need to clear my head, you know?”

Cade nods slowly and taps the hood of my Jeep. “See you around, Justin.”

“Damn
, it's good to have you back, kid.” Carlos falls onto the open spot of the bench next to me and smiles his cornball grin. “Playing without you sucks, straight up, so don't even think about using that big old head of yours to stop a run today, you hear me?”

“I hear you, dumbass.”

I elbow him in the ribs, but really, I'm stoked to be back.

It's not the first championship game we've played together, but it could be the last if I decide not to go to A&M. I don't want to forget a single second. Not the sun's scorching rays seeping through my cap, or the sting of sunblock in my eyes. The smell of dirt, grass, and hotdogs—a scent combination forever linked with Fairfield—and the crazy cheers of our frenzied home crowd.

The only thing missing today? Peyton screaming insults after a bad call.

I understand why she's not here. Today's the exhibition ride at the Round Rock rodeo and that's where she
should
be.
If I'm honest, as much as I love this game, I can't help wishing that's where I was, too.

Out of habit, I glance at her usual spot in the stands, and spy my father seated there instead.

“Holy shit.”

I blink, unable to believe my eyes, but he's here. He made it. He actually got off his ass and came out to a game. Of course, my brother is here, seated on Rosalyn's lap, but I never would've expected my dad to show. A well of emotion builds in my chest, surprise and happiness, even affection… an emotion made even more pathetic once I notice who's sitting beside him. The area scout for the Toronto team that's been showing so much interest.

“Got a bird in the stands?” Alan Richard teases, taking a load off on my other side. He's a former Fairfield player now in the pros, and Coach asked him to come out today for inspiration. He lifts his chin toward the bleachers. “You're staring awfully hard over there. Either it's a chick or someone who owes you money.”

“My dad,” I reply, watching as Carlos does a double-take in my peripheral. “Chatting up a Toronto scout.”

“Ah.” Alan nods sagely. “I heard you got a lot of buzz going. You shouldn't be too shocked to see a scout hanging around.”

“Not shocked at all.” My voice is tight, even I can hear it. “Just… an observation.”

Despite what I said, it sort of is hard to believe that I have this much attention on me. I mean, I'm grateful. Having options is amazing, and I'm in a position every player wants to be in. But I can't help feeling annoyed.

“Can I ask you something?” When he looks at me, giving me the go-ahead, I say, “You ever have any regrets about your choice?”

Alan sits back and sighs. “No. I weighed every option I had, thought it through, and in the end, chose the best path for
me. There's no right or wrong answer here. It's about following what your gut tells you. For me, it was a farm team, working my way up. I got damn lucky. I have friends who are still back there.” He takes off his cap, shoves his hair back, and then replaces it. “What about you? Where's your head on the whole thing right now?”

I shrug. “Torn, I guess. With the draft, I know about the shitty salary after the signing bonus, but I have a trust fund from my grandparents, so I'm not sweating that. It's not really about the money for me.”

“So what is it about?”

I plant my cleat in the dirt, unsure how to answer that. Honestly, it's about tons of things. Making Coach proud and not disappointing my teammates. Wondering if Peyton and I have what it takes to last. It's deciding between getting an education now, or striking while the iron's hot, and hell, it's even about my dad, and what he's always expected from me. No way am I pouring all that shit on Alan.

So, Carlos answers for me. “It's about a girl.”

I elbow him in the ribs and he smirks. Alan chuckles next to me.

“Something tells me it's a bit more than that,” he says, turning to face me. “Listen, Carter, I'm not gonna tell you what you should do. But I wish someone had been around when I was in your place, someone who'd been in the same predicament, so if you want some advice, I'll give it to you.”

Right about now, I'm dying for someone to tell me what to do, to make the decision for me. I look at him and say, “Dude, I'm all ears.”

“Get a college education.” He says it straight out, shocking the shit out of me. “Get your experience that way, and skip out on the low A and Rookie Ball crap. No one prepares you for that, man. The long bus rides to small towns, the bad food, and shittier fields. The completely empty stands. Some people get
lucky. They draft high and advance quick, but for many, that's simply not reality.”

Carlos leans forward. “What if he gets hurt, though? What if he blows his knee out in college and tanks his career.”

“It's a risk you run, getting injured and missing your shot in the draft,” Alan admits. “But it doesn't mean you'll never play professional ball. You'll heal up and earn your shot another way. Better to blow your knee in college, and have that education to fall back on, than out on a crap field with no one watching.”

Carlos and I exchange a look. I know what he's thinking. He's headed to A&M, the same place Peyton is, and the same place I already signed my letter of intent. He'd love it if I stayed in state, and I admit, the pull to play more with my best friend is huge.

“For me,” Alan says, “I was drafted high and the bonus money was life changing. My family needed that money, and it was impossible to say no. But if money's not an issue for you, and you can play ball either way, you're in a totally different position. The love of the game comes with either option, man, so it boils down to one question.”

I can't help but smirk at the theatrics. “Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“What are you chasing?”

What are you chasing?

The question rattles in my head. It shakes loose memories and thoughts I didn't even remember having. What am I chasing? I glance back at the crowd and lock eyes with my dad.

I can answer that.