Epilogue
Wendell
“Practice was shit today,” Brody grumbles.
“No doubt playing in a leopard print thong didn’t help.” Zane slaps him on the shoulder pushing past him.
Brody’s grinning too big to let it get to him. “What my girl wants, my girl gets.” I wonder how long Willow will be left in charge of what Brody wears, but hey, whatever works to find love.
“What about you? Your legs alright, Wendell? You’re walking like an octogenarian.”
“Was that your word of the day, Pax?” I throw him a fake smile because yes I do feel like an octogenarian.
I don’t know what’s been going on lately, but practices have just been brutal.
It’s like I catch an edge every time I lace up.
I haven’t hit the ice this many times since I put on my first pair of velcro skates.
Pax just ignores me as we all clamor into Zane’s apartment. Time to relax with the boys.
At first, I don’t notice anyone else as I kick off my shoes and amble into the kitchen space. But then I hear a jingle of laughter. Like a fucking bell, I’d know that laugh anywhere. And if the laugh itself doesn’t confirm it, a waft of lavender slams into my nose.
Lavender. It should be calming. It should have trickled softly into my space, but I’m not expecting her.
Yet there she is, all the same, sitting at the kitchen table with Willow and Lacy.
Pulled back in a soft, messy bun, her sunshine blonde hair and creamy sloped neck taunt me.
I haven’t seen her since…the funeral. Panic swarms my nerves, threatening to shut me down.
And all of a sudden I think I’m having my first panic attack in about almost a decade.
I thought I was over these. My head pounds like some beast attempting to get out.
Or in. I can’t tell. Sweat drips down my recently showered back, and my toes curl in my shoes.
My heart thumps like a man sprinting full tilt on a treadmill.
No one else senses my chaos as they greet each other with hugs. Zane grabs Lacy, meeting her with his mouth. And Brody sweeps Willow up into a searing kiss. Love. They’re all happily in love. It’s perfect. But inside, panic preoccupies my body.
“Peyton?” I manage among the fluttering thumps in my chest.
“Wendell. Hi.” She stands. It’s awkward. I can see her wringing her hands, then nervously tucking them into her pockets.
“You look good.” She looks scared shitless. I can’t have that. She’s done too much for me to allow her to feel any discomfort around me, so I breathe out—breathe past—and ignore the raging tsunami inside of me.
Head ducked, she murmurs, “Thanks.”
Unaware of when it happened, I find myself within a foot of her, wanting to wrap my arms around her. “What are you doing here?” Not that I wanted to, but I had to avoid her after the funeral. Self-protection. Shit. That’s a terrible thing to say, and it kills me to think it again.
“Uh…these two,” she gestures toward Willow and Lacy, “are getting married. And they asked me to plan the wedding. Or weddings. They still haven’t decided on a joint wedding or not.”
“Shit. That’s amazing.” Double shit. That means I’ll be seeing a lot more of her.
Released from Zane’s lips, Lacy gives me a curious look. “How do you two know each other?”
Almost demurely, Peyton checks in with me first before answering. “University.”
I just nod along because what else am I supposed to say? She’s the one my best friend married even though I fell for her first?
***