4. Noah
noah
. . .
T he smell of freshly baked cookies washes over me as soon as Peyton and I step inside my parents’ home. My stomach growls loudly as Betty Paige’s eyes light up as soon as she sees me and she comes thundering down the steps and into my arms. I don’t care how many times a month I see her, each time I can’t believe how much she’s grown. I don’t want to think about her dating, wearing makeup or even looking at colleges. She may have arrived when I was almost a teenager, but I wanted her.
“Can you please stop growing?”
“Daddy says the same thing each time I go shopping,” she laughs.
“That’s because you max out my credit card.” My dad comes into the room. We hug briefly before he pulls Peyton into his arms. I watch their exchange. It’s fatherly, with her hanging on for dear life. “We’re glad to have you both home,” he says after letting the love of my life go. Reaching for Peyton’s hand, I pull her close and kiss her forehead.
“Where’s Mom?” Peyton and I decided to come home to Beaumont so she and my mom can get a head start on flowers. No date, but we’ll have flowers.
“At the shop. She’s getting some samples ready for you guys to look at,” Paige says. “We can go over them now, that’s if you want my help.” She shrugs and looks at Peyton. I know she’s fishing for a spot in the wedding party and have no doubt Peyton will ask her.
“Of course, I’d love your opinion,” Peyton tells her. Try as she might, Betty Paige’s face lights up. Being a part of the wedding is her dream. She texts me with ideas all the time, asking if I think Peyton will like this or that.
“How was the flight?” My dad picks Peyton’s bag up and heads toward the stairwell. I follow, but Peyton stays with my sister.
“Perfect. It’s so nice to just relax.” I’m spoiled, but so are Peyton, Quinn, Elle, Betty Paige, and Eden. When it’s convenient, we can use the private jet. It’s a luxury that I wish I could use when the team flies. Not many people realize how big a nose tackle is or an offensive lineman. Big, beefy, most are tall and just overly large men. Try sitting next to one of them on a plane. It doesn’t bode well for any of us.
“And Peyton, how’s she doing with the move?” he asks, setting her bag down on the bed in what used to be my room. It’s no longer the “boy” room it once was, although my trophies are still here but now they’re nice and tidy on a shelf. This room has become a guest room and my mom likes to tease my dad that it will be a nursery in a few years once grandbabies start to arrive. Ever see a grown man quiver? Mention grandchildren and watch my dad and Harrison shake at the knees. It’s comical.
“She’s doing really well. She likes her new therapist and has a friend from her support group who has been through a similar situation.”
“I worry about her. We all do.”
“She’s good,” I tell him. “I take care of her.” And I do. I won’t let anything happen to her.
“Noah?” she calls for me from downstairs. I wonder if there will ever be a time when hearing her say my name won’t cause a stirring. I duck my head and discreetly adjust my pants. My dad laughs and slaps me on my shoulder.
“I feel the same when it comes to your mom.”
Gross. Gag. Barf. No, just no. I can’t. I refuse to think of my parents doing… not gonna happen. “Right, I’m going to go bleach my ears now.” This only makes my dad laugh harder.
“He’s coming, Peyton.” Again, with another snicker.
My cheeks are instantly on fire. I can’t believe my dad, who somehow thinks my embarrassment is funny. I give myself a few moments, taking in some deep breaths to calm myself down before I head to the stairs. My breathing hitches as I see her, the woman who I’m hoping will be my wife by the end of the year, standing there looking up at me. Her dark hair is plaited and hanging over her shoulder. Her blue eyes, growing more expectant as I take each step toward her.
When I finally reach her, I lean down and kiss her softly. “I love you,” I tell her. I say these words a lot, multiple times a day because I don’t want her to forget. Not that I think she would, but I think it’s important that she knows at random times throughout her day. The words shouldn’t be reserved for when we’re parting or after making love, but for when she’s standing in the kitchen or when she’s come in from a run.
“I love you too. Are you ready?”
I nod just as my dad comes back into the room. “Peyton are you okay if I steal your groom away for a bit?”
“Dad, we are about to look at flowers.”
“You can have him,” she says. I look at her and she winks. “Between your mom and sister, I think I’ll be able to come up with a good idea. Besides, it’s not like we can’t show you later. We do know the owner,” she laughs, and I’m trying to figure out if she’s really okay going by herself. My dad hands her the keys to his car, and she waves as she and Paige head out.
“What just happened?”
“She’s giving you a reprieve.”
“I get that, but I want to go with her.”
My dad pats me on the back. “Give her some time with your mom. You can check in with her later and if you feel like you need to be there, we can go over. There’s something I want to show you.”
As much as I don’t want to agree with my dad, he’s right. He did warn me that some of the wedding planning will be done by the moms and sisters, and I just have to sit back and wait. Thing is, I want Peyton to know that I care, that it’s not just a day where I’ll show up. I want to be present in the process, right alongside her. And right now is the time, because once training starts, my time is limited.
Still, I follow my dad to his truck, even though I’d rather be with Peyton. Once we’re on the road, the drive becomes familiar and I find myself looking in the back for a cooler of beer. Sure enough, the old faded red ice box is back there. Question is, is it full?
We pull into the field where generations of parties have happened, except something’s changed. For one, the tower has been painted red and Beaumont stands out in white. However, that’s not what stands out the most. There’s a staircase leading to the top. I get out of the truck and stare dumbfounded at it.
“What the fu?—”
“My thoughts exactly,” my dad says appearing next to me with the cooler in his hand. “Some kid fell last year and broke his leg. His parents tried to sue the city, so the council tried to remove the ladder altogether. A bunch of guys that I went to school with, who have kids, fought back. Saying the city was taking away a piece of our heritage. This is the answer.”
“A staircase so anyone can climb up.”
“Yep.” He nods toward the tower. I look over to find two figures waving back. “Nick and Mack are up there.”
“No shit?” My dad and Nick aren’t exactly friends, but not enemies either. I think it’s pretty stand-up of my dad to put his feelings aside so I can have a relationship with Nick.
“Come on, we have guy stuff to talk about.”
I follow my dad up the stairs. It’s nice that I’m not worrying about my life, but they defeat the purpose of having to climb a ladder to get up there. Still, the view is amazing once we’re at the top.
Mack rushes over to me and shakes my hand. I squeeze it a bit tighter than I should, sending him a message that despite the relationship I have with his dad, I am Paige’s big brother and she will always come first. There’s no secret that they have crushes on each other and I know both parents have gone to extremes to keep a tight eye on them.
Nick follows, but he and I hug. We’re as close as father and son. “Good to see you.”
“You too,” he says. Because of his coaching schedule, he doesn’t get to Portland often to see me play. He’ll make one game this upcoming season, two if he gets bounced from the playoffs, but from what my dad and Nick have been saying, Beaumont High is going to be a powerhouse this year. They have a running back similar to my uncle Mason.
“So, I feel like this is some sort of intervention,” I say as I sit down. My dad hands me a beer, one to Nick and a soda for Mack.
“Nah, just some dad time,” Nick adds. Beside me, my dad cringes and I laugh. Some things will never change.
“Noah, are you ready for the season?” Mack asks.
I shrug. “I will be. Right now, I’m still in vacation mode.”
“Yeah, me too,” Mack replies. I look down the row at him. He’s drinking the can of soda, almost as if he’s an adult sucking down a beer.
“Aren’t you still in school? In season?”
Nick sighs. “He is, but he’s on this teenage kick of growing up faster than he needs to.”
“Keep him away from Betty Paige,” my dad mumbles. I second that notion. I remember puberty all too well and there was only one thing I cared about, aside from sports, and that was the attention I got from girls.
“Your dad and I thought we’d plan your bachelor party.”
“Quinn isn’t here,” I point out to Nick. “I’d like him to be involved.”
“Is he your best man?” Mack asks.
I nod, realizing at this moment that I want Quinn to stand next to me. “I’m going to ask him when we go camping. I figured that’ll be a good time. I just hope he says yes.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Dad asks.
I look at him, wondering if he wanted to be my best man. “Quinn’s not really a flashy guy and being a best man puts him on display. He’ll have to give a speech.”
Nick and my dad laugh. “I think there will be plenty of speeches at your wedding.”
“When is it?” Mack asks.
Going silent, I shrug. “Peyton and I are still working out the details. I’m hoping soon.”
“Do you know where at least?” Nick wants to know.
“Here, definitely in Beaumont. She wants to be close to her father and where we grew up. Says this is our home and where we should get married.”
The dads seem to be in agreement, which is always nice. All the wedding talk though has me itching to get a date set, and I’m hoping after meeting with my mom, Peyton finally opens the calendar and puts her finger on a date. I don’t care when, I’ll be there.
As soon as I finish my beer, I toss it down to the bed of Nick’s truck. I don’t know why, but the sound of breaking glass is very satisfying. At least, I thought so until Mack speaks.
“I can’t wait until I can drink beer.”
Nick’s mouthful of ale sprays out of his mouth. My dad laughs, until he starts choking. “Mack, you have a long way until you’re of age.”
“How old were you when you had your first one?”
I look at Nick, who knows the answer won’t be good if I say something. “Drinking isn’t cool, Mack. You should focus on school and sports.”
“And girls,” he says. “Well, at least one.”
I bite my tongue. I remember what it was like, being his age, but this boy has a set of cajones on him like no other, saying this stuff in front of my dad. I’m just glad I’m not in his shoes.