I defended you, though the world turned cold,
For your love was a treasure more precious than gold.
Paxton couldn't shake the knot in his stomach as he walked to meet Joanne at their usual spot by the park. The tall oaks swayed gently in the evening breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers of unsaid words. Joanne had texted earlier, asking to talk. It wasn't like her to be this direct—she usually avoided confrontation—but something in her tone felt urgent. He feared what was coming.
Joanne was already there when he arrived, sitting on a weathered bench with her arms wrapped around herself. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, but she glanced up when she heard his footsteps. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of hurt and determination.
"Hey," Paxton said hesitantly, taking a seat beside her.
Joanne nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a chasm. Finally, Joanne turned to face him, her voice quiet but steady.
"Paxton, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me," she said. "Do you think I'm... distant? Or... or not serious about us?"
Paxton blinked, taken aback. "What? No, why would you think that?"
Joanne hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "Because that's what Amy's been telling you, isn't it? She's been planting these ideas in your head."
Paxton's stomach dropped. He opened his mouth to respond, but Joanne held up a hand.
"Before you deny it, let me say this," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I've noticed how you've changed around me. You second-guess everything now, like you're afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. And it started when Amy got involved."
Paxton looked away, guilt prickling at the back of his neck. Joanne's words hit too close to home. She wasn't wrong—Amy had been in his ear constantly, sowing seeds of doubt. But how could he admit that without betraying his sister?
"Joanne," he began, his voice faltering. "It's not what you think. Amy's just... protective. She doesn't want me to get hurt."
Joanne's eyes flashed with frustration. "Protective? Is that what she calls it? Because from where I'm standing, it feels more like sabotage."
Paxton frowned. "That's not fair. Amy's only trying to help."
"Help?" Joanne repeated, her tone incredulous. "By making you doubt me? By twisting things to make me look bad? Paxton, wake up! She's not protecting you; she's manipulating you."
Her words hung in the air, cutting through Paxton's defenses. He wanted to argue, to defend Amy, but deep down, he knew Joanne wasn't entirely wrong. Amy's behavior had been... unusual lately. But acknowledging that felt like a betrayal.
"Joanne," he said finally, his voice soft, "I don't think she means to hurt you. She's just... struggling with some stuff. I don't think it's personal."
Joanne's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. "It feels personal, Paxton. It feels like she's trying to push me out of your life."
Joanne's words lingered in Paxton's mind long after their conversation ended. He replayed Amy's comments in his head, the way she always seemed to frame her concerns as if she were looking out for him. But was that really the case? Or had he been blind to her true intentions?
The next morning, Paxton decided to confront Amy. He found her in the kitchen, sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he entered, her expression brightening.
"Morning, Pax," she said cheerfully. "Want some coffee?"
Paxton shook his head, his stomach too unsettled for food or drink. "We need to talk."
Amy's smile faltered. "About what?"
"About Joanne," he said, his tone firm. "And about the things you've been saying."
Amy's brows knit together in confusion. "What things?"
"You've been telling me she's distant, that she's not serious about me," Paxton said. "Why would you say that? It's not true."
Amy set her mug down, her expression shifting to one of hurt. "Pax, I only said those things because I care about you. I've seen the way she acts, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"But it's not true," Paxton pressed. "Joanne cares about me. I know she does. So why are you trying to make me doubt her?"
Amy's eyes filled with tears, and Paxton's resolve wavered. "I'm not trying to make you doubt her," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm just trying to protect you. Is that so wrong?"
Paxton sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Amy. It just feels like you're pushing her away, and I don't understand why."
Amy's tears spilled over, and she turned away, her shoulders shaking. "You don't get it, do you?" she said, her voice cracking. "You've been so focused on Joanne that you don't even see what's happening around you. I feel like I'm losing you, Pax. You're my bestfriend, and I feel like I'm losing you."
Paxton's heart twisted at her words. He had always been close to Amy, and the thought of her feeling this way hurt more than he wanted to admit.
"Amy," he said gently, "you're not losing me. I'm still here. But Joanne is important to me too. Can't you see that?"
Amy shook her head, her back still turned. "I just don't trust her, Pax. She's too perfect, too... untouchable. And I'm afraid she's going to hurt you."
"She's not," Paxton said firmly. "Joanne isn't perfect, Amy. She's human, just like the rest of us. But she cares about me, and I care about her."
Amy finally turned to face him, her face streaked with tears. "And what about me? Do I still matter to you?"
"Of course you do," Paxton said, his voice soft. "But this isn't about you or Joanne. This is about me, trying to figure out my own life. Can you let me do that?"
Amy stared at him for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. "I'll try," she said quietly. "But it's not easy, Pax. It's really not."
Later that day, Paxton met Joanne at the park again, determined to set things right. She was sitting on the same bench, her posture tense. When she saw him approach, her expression was guarded.
"Did you talk to her?" Joanne asked, skipping the pleasantries.
Paxton nodded, sitting down beside her. "I did. And I think... I think you were right. Amy's been struggling with some stuff, and it's made her act out. But I told her she needs to stop interfering."
Joanne let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. "Thank you, Paxton. That means a lot."
Paxton reached for her hand, his touch hesitant. "I'm sorry for letting her words get to me. I should have trusted you more."
Joanne squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking through her sadness. "I get it, Paxton. She's your sister. It's hard to see the people we love in a bad light."
Paxton nodded, his chest tightening. "But I see now that she was wrong about you. And I won't let her come between us again."
Joanne's smile widened, and for the first time in weeks, Paxton felt a sense of peace. But deep down, he knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. Amy's bitterness wouldn't disappear overnight, and there was still a lot of healing to be done.
For now, though, he was willing to fight for what mattered most—and Joanne was at the top of that list.