Page 37 of Always Mine

Paxton

My long strides eat up the trail as I sprint through the back of my parents’ property. My heart is thudding rapidly inside my chest and even though my lungs are burning, the exercise feels good. It’s been way too long since I’ve done this, and my body and mental state welcomes it.

The physical therapist released me from my sling prison yesterday and approved me for light physical activity. I’m sure that I’m pressing the limits with cardio, but I’m being extra mindful of my arm.

I just couldn’t take it anymore. Everything that’s been going on with Wyatt has finally pushed me past my limit. The incident in the truck yesterday was terrible. Us being smashed together, him practically being forced to take me to my appointment, and then after that, a slew of desperation took over me.

That’s how it’s been since I got here. When we’re not together, I can be rational. I can come up with all these things I want to say and I know I’d behave appropriately for whatever conversation we were going to have. Not in person, though. When he’s in front of me, it’s like all logic flies out the window and the only thing I want is to mend the bridge between us in any way I can.

The problem is that it leads me to doing stupid things and making rash decisions… Like snatching his keys out of the ignition before he could drive away. I mean, how damn stupid is that? I knew he was at a breaking point. I could see him unraveling in the field, which is why I tried to jump in and fix it—like I used to—but once again, he reminded me that we are not that version of Paxton and Wyatt anymore.

We’re different. We’ve changed. We’ve grown… and not together like we always have. The gap between us is so huge now that I’m not sure how we can reconnect. Does that mean we’re not fixable?

The thought has me feeling so dejected.

Ma always says nothing is irreparable, but even that has to have limitations. Based on everything I’ve received from Wyatt since I’ve been back, I’m thinking we may fall into the broken beyond-repair category.

Ugh, I wish I was back in Cali. I really want to focus on something other than Wyatt damn Clayton. At some point, I have to let the breakup go, right? I can’t let myself feel shitty about this forever.

I’m talking myself in circles and not getting anywhere. I feel bad about what I did three years ago, for not trying to fix us sooner, and that he’s been stuck here stewing and in pain for so long. Mostly, I feel bad that there’s nothing I can do to fix us.

I love Wyatt. I always have. Even before we were ever more, back when he was just a friend, I loved him. It’s always only been Wyatt for me, and I think that’s what makes it all so hard. My entire life has been connected to him in some way, shape, or form.

Every first I have is with him, and not just the sexual stuff either. I’m talking about the minuscule things that probably don’t mean much to anyone else but mean everything to me.

From stringing our first fishing poles and learning how to ride a bike to trying our first beer and learning how to drive. There’s not a memory I have that doesn’t include him. I can’t think of a time when we went longer than a day without seeing each other unless one of our families went away on vacation, but even then, nine times out of ten, the other tagged along.

We were a pair. We had a friendship that meant everything to me.That still means everything to me.So the fact that he can’t even hold my gaze or have a simple conversation with me now destroys me, and it’s all my fault.

Why in the hell did I let us get here?

I come to a stop at the pond near the back of the property line, leaning forward and bracing my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. Damn, I may have pushed myself a little too hard. I haven’t done any conditioning since I was injured, so there’s no doubt I’ll be sore after this. Standing to my full height, I do a slow walk, taking deep lungfuls of air to slow my heart rate. I stretch a little as I go, first my right arm before moving onto my left. The muscle in my left arm is tight as hell and my range of motion is extremely small, but it still feels good to have a little freedom.

This whole process with Wyatt has been hard but I’m really trying to make the best of it. If only I could somehow convince him to give me a chance.

Groaning, I plop my ass down in the dirt and grab a pebble, tossing it across the water. It does a little skip before sinking to the bottom.

“Damn, that was terrible,” I grumble, grabbing another one and trying again. It takes about fifteen tries, but I finally get it to bounce multiple times before it sinks. I’ve lost my touch. I’m blaming this on the fact that I don’t have a full range of motion in my left arm. It’s throwing off my center of gravity.

Yeah, that probably makes no sense and is way off base, but whatever. I don’t want to admit defeat.

The cool wind kicks up and my body involuntarily shivers. That’s the only bad thing about working out when it’s slightly chilly outside. Sweat gets cool quickly. I’d go back inside, but I want to stay out here some more and clear my head. Pulling up my hoodie, I lie back on the ground and stare up at the morning sky. It still has that warm glow with a bit of orange spanning the distance. It’s beautiful and gives me that sense of serenity I’ve needed since coming back.

I don’t know why I haven’t come out here sooner. Probably because this place is filled with so much meaning and memories that I thought it’d suffocate me.

It’s doing the total opposite, though. It’s reminding me of all the good, blanketing me with so much safety and security.

Our hideout spot. Our safe space.

I close my eyes, listening to the sounds around me as they lull me to sleep.

* * *

“Can you move any slower?I’m getting gray hair here!” I yell over my shoulder to Wyatt.

Wyatt throws me the finger, moving as slow as molasses on his four-wheeler. “You try balancing a tackle box between your thighs and a cooler strapped to your back. I’d like to see you speed through the bumpy trail.”

“I have our fishing poles and our bag of clothes. I’m managing just fine,” I call back, twisting the handle to drive forward again.

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