Page 28 of Heal For Me

I can uproot my entire life; besides one part, and that part is the most important of them all. Next to Parker, Payson is the most crucial person in my life.

The question is, am I holding my son back while waiting for her to turn eighteen? I know once she does, she will easily move with me . . . but is that the best for her? I have two futures to consider, and I’m not sure they line up. How can I make Payson, who loves volleyball, and Parker, who loves football, equally happy in one place. America has great options for football, but it is nothing to England, and the same is true for volleyball but opposite. Hence me moving here years ago.

“Just think about it.”

I have been and am still lost on what is the right move. If she didn’t come . . . could Payson honestly survive me leaving? Not even a breakup, because we are never breaking up—but would my absence be too much for her to handle? She doesn’t do well with people exiting her life, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m yet another person who walked out on her.

But Parker is my main priority, he has to be because I’ve failed him long enough.

I drop my head to my hands and close my eyes, attempting to think but failing. A second later, a warm hand lands on my shoulder and he speaks low.

“I do not envy the decisions you must make, fratello. But remember, absence can make the heart grow fonder.”

I lift my head enough to meet his comforting eyes. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then it was never meant to be.” He squeezes and drops his hand.

My chest aches with the thought. Payson and I are meant to be, I’ve known that from day one. Bloody hell, I knew that before day one. She is mine and I am hers.

“You are thinking too hard, Ashley. I do not think you are giving Payson, or your relationship, enough credit. It is stronger than you think. She is stronger than you think.”

“I don’t want her to have to be.”

He takes a seat next to me. “Maybe it is the push she needs. She is going to Blue Gate soon. This could allow her to fully heal without worrying about missing home because you won’t be here. Payson has always had a crutch, cutting and then you. Without either, maybe she will realize she doesn’t need that escape and she will begin to rely on herself.”

“Or without one, she will resort to the other,” I deadpan.

“I do not think you give her enough credit either.”

Maybe not, but I don’t know if it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If I’m not around, who will make sure she doesn’t harm herself again? Right now, I am trusting Jethro, but even that is proving to be difficult and I’m only a few-minute drive if I speed. If I am in a different country, it’s minimum an eight-hour flight. A lot can happen in that amount of time.

A life without Payson isn’t something I’m willing to live ever again.

12

Payson

Have we always gotten so much snow, or have I been watching it build up for too long? Out of the week I have been in Uncle Jet’s house, I’ve watched the snow double on the edge of my outside railing.

Being here is weird. I’ve never been in Uncle Jet’s house before. It’s not like I was friends with Olivia growing up. A part of me still can’t believe he is her dad, or step who raised her—whatever. At least she’s not here, though. The last thing I want to deal with is her bitchiness.

Everyone has been acting weird toward me, and I’m not sure why. No, I do know why, but I wish they would stop. I’m so close to exploding, and everyone acting like that, doesn’t help. Thankfully, I’m tired a lot, and whenever my head gets too full and the memories or whatever get to be too much, I go to bed.

My arms itch more than they ever have—but I’m ignoring that too. That is my ticket for right now—ignore everything until I can deal with it properly. I’m not sure when that will be, but it’s definitely not right now.

I have so many questions. A few I don’t want the answers to, but I worry when I ask one thing, it will lead to another, so I stay quiet.

“Ready to see your room?”

I turn from the large window that overlooks a beautiful flower garden and nod. I’ve been staying in one of the several spare rooms for the past week, and workers have been in and out of what I guess is my room, finalizing it.

“Sure.” I don’t understand why he insisted on redoing an entire room for me. His spare room is nicer than anything I’ve had before, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited.

Uncle Jet leads me through his house, or mansion, considering it’s probably three normal-sized houses in one. Each room like the last. White walls with dark-wood flooring and some of the most incredibly tall ceilings. Whoever furnished the place did an immaculate job; the heavy furniture complements well.

The house is perfect, a little too perfect if you ask me, and that gives me an odd feeling in my stomach.

The outside is actually inviting—surprisingly, considering who lives inside. Deep-gray brick with black trim, a perfect representation of Uncle Jet, classy with a hint of darkness in the depths.

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