Even to this day, I can’t help but miss Violet. She was the prettiest lady I’d ever seen, and she treated me like a son.
“She wanted me to become an actor and go into modeling, commercials, that kind of stuff. I thought it sounded like fun, being on stage.”
“But it stopped being fun,” Peyton guesses.
“N-not exactly. She put me on my first diet at four. She weighed me daily from then on and if she wasn’t happy with the number, she’d berate me. Wasn’t like she hit me or anything dramatic like that.” I blow out a breath and rush through the next part. “One of my teachers realized I was severely malnourished. I got taken away from her and she went to prison where she eventually died.”
She puts her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ledger.”
“I got taken away when I was ten and I’ve tried…fuck, I’ve tried to be normal since then. But sometimes, I still do the same stuff. It’s better the past couple years. I don’t purge as much.”
When I was a teenager, Mr. Kringle paid a crazy amount of money to put me in an outpatient treatment center two hours away from Courage County. He drove four hours everyday round trip so I could get the treatment I needed. It didn’t cure me. Nothing has. But it did get me on the road to recovery. It made mewantto get better which was a hell of a step in the right direction.
“I don’t know that I’ll ever beat this, not fully. But I wake up and fight it every day. Fight the lies that are in my mind.” I think the therapist who helped me see that Violet put a lot of false beliefs in my head helped me the most.
“There’s a reason people say they’re in recovery and not recovered,” Peyton points out, her tone gentle. “It’s OK if you have to fight every day. Just don’t fight alone.”
Her understanding is more than I expected and yet I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been my biggest cheerleader, the person who supports me fiercely no matter what. “I talked to Cash about it. He says this can run in families, but I promise you, I won’t be like Violet was. I won’t do that to our child.”
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it tight. “I know you’ll be an amazing father, and we’ll figure this parenting thing out together.”
Her words soothe a part of me that’s ached for a long time. Maybe I’m not doomed to repeat my past. Maybe she isn’t either. Together, we can build a bright future.
9
PEYTON
I wakethe next morning with a big smile on my face. I’m completely exhausted because Ledger and I spent the night reaching for each other. We made love no less than four times. Each time we kept insisting we were doing it for the sake of a baby, but I think we both know that’s a lie.
My phone dings and I pick it up to see the Christmas event in Sweetgrass River is today. It’s already late but if I hustle, I should still be able to make it over there. All of my treats have been made so if I swing by the apartment, I can grab everything in time.
I start to nudge Ledger to tell him. But he’s just as exhausted as I am. We’ll catch up with each other later.
I smile and press a tender kiss to his forehead. He turns over and murmurs something in his sleep. Maybe one day we’ll wake up next to each other every morning. That would be amazing.
Unfortunately, fate is not with me today. I have to leave Ledger’s house in my clothes from last night. Which isn’t a big deal except that my old junker sputters to a stop before I can get a mile down the road. It even has the audacity to break down in front of Mr. and Mrs. Kringle’s house. He’s on the front porch sipping his morning coffee when I flag him down.
“Car trouble?” He asks as steam pours from underneath the hood.
“Just a little bit. Can I borrow a gallon of water?” Ledger has already threatened to call the sheriff and have the car impounded for being unsafe if it breaks down on me one more time.
I wrap my arms around myself and hope Mr. Kringle doesn’t notice my clothing is the exact same as last night. It’s kind of hard to deny that I’m still wearing my ugly Christmas sweater. “I’m trying to get to the big Christmas show in Sweetgrass today.”
“I can do you one better. Let me give you a ride up there.”
I start to decline his offer. The Kringles have always been the type of people that will give you the shirt off their backs. But I’m not used to letting people take care of me.
Still, looking at Mr. Kringle right now, I have the sudden realization that he’ll be my child’s grandfather. One day, I’ll get to hand him a screaming red bundle wrapped in a hospital blanket. I hope that day comes soon.
“Yeah, a ride would be cool. We have to swing by my apartment to get my stuff first,” I explain. He’s willing to cancel whatever plans he has for the day on a moment’s notice just to help me. He’s so much like Ledger.
“One minute.” He holds up a hand and disappears into the house. When he returns, Mrs. Kringle is arm in arm with him. She beams at me. “Tell us what you need, dear.”
Three hours later and the Christmas fair in the Sweetgrass River Elementary gymnasium has barely begun. Yet I’ve already sold half of my gingerbread cookies. They aren’t the ginger dicks that I sell at the bar. No, these are actual gingerbread men.
Still, I’ve sold way more than I normally sell and it’s all thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Kringle. They’re amazing salespeople. They’re warm and friendly, chatting up every person who walks by the table like they’re long-lost friends.
I marvel at the way they work in tandem, genuinely showing interest in the customers while convincing them to indulge in a sweet treat. Maybe Ledger and I can be a team like that one day. We could certainly learn a thing or two from them.