25. Peyton

PEYTON

R ather than go inside, Peyton circled around and went down to the beach. Brodie was gone. She'd heard his car speed off, and her ear had followed the sound of the powerful engine as he turned onto the highway and drove away.

It was time she got her head on straight and lived the life she'd made for herself. She liked her independence, and her relationship with Kade had allowed her to hang onto it. For eight weeks, he'd be with her, and then for the same amount of time, he'd be gone. The first few days had always been difficult, but once she'd gotten past waking up at night and reaching for him, her life returned to the comfortable rhythm she and her boys had shared since Lang left them.

Jamison and Finn had no recollection of their father, living with them or otherwise. She had photos stashed away and was willing to talk about him if they ever asked, but so far they hadn't.

They would have questions about Brodie even though he'd been a part of their lives for such a short time. Her biggest regret, now, was allowing it to get as far as it had, at least where her boys were concerned. It became too familiar, too fast, and they'd be the ones to pay.

Brodie would move on. He said he was struggling with it, but Peyton knew better. It was about the chase. She'd learned that from Lang.

Kade may have thought he wanted to marry her, but what had he known about real life? He'd never really lived it. Maybe he'd talked to her father about it, and to his family, but Peyton wasn't truly convinced he would've ever proposed.

When it came to men, her instincts sucked. What would've happened with Brodie had she allowed things to continue? He'd actually said his plan was to leave until his "obsession" with her went away. How fucked up was that?

Peyton stepped inside the house and picked up the phone she'd left in the kitchen. "Give me a minute," she told Alex before going into the bedroom and closing the door.

"Peter? I'm glad I reached you," Peyton said when he answered.

"Peyton, how's your son?"

"He's good. Home. Thanks for asking. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about dinner next week. I'd love it."

"Great, I'm looking forward to it. Should I make a reservation somewhere in town?" Peter asked.

"We wouldn't need it on a Monday, but I was thinking maybe we'd go down to San Luis Obispo." From now on, she wouldn't date in her own backyard, and whoever she was dating would never meet her boys, because she'd never allow another relationship to get serious enough to warrant it. Before she left the bedroom, she called Sam and asked if she'd babysit Monday night.

"Of course, I'd love to."

Sam didn't ask any questions, and Peyton didn't offer any information. She could pick the boys up from school, feed them dinner, and get them into bed. If they wanted to know where she was going, she'd tell them she had to work late. Compartmentalizing was going to be her new MO.

Alex pushed a piece of pizza in her direction when she joined her in the kitchen. "You look very pleased with yourself."

Peyton glanced around to see where the boys had disappeared to.

"Both in their rooms, doing homework. I'm turning into the perfect surrogate mom lately. Maybe I'll consider having one of my own in ten or twenty years," said Alex.

"Better make it closer to ten, Alex, or you'll have to hire a surrogate."

"Yeah, yeah. So what's going on?"

"I have a date with Peter Wells Monday night."

Alex raised a brow, shook her head, and put a giant spoonful of macaroni and cheese in her mouth.

"What?"

Alex pointed to her full mouth and shook her head again.

"Chicken shit."

"Pot"—she pointed to Peyton, and then to herself—"meet kettle."

The following day was a normal one, except Finn still wasn't ready to return to school. He wanted to, but Peyton thought he should stay home longer. She doubted that was the reason he'd been sulking, though.

"Why isn't he coming over, Mom?"

"I told you, Finn. He has work to do. I'm off today and tomorrow, but that doesn't mean everyone has that luxury."

"Why can't he come for dinner?"

"Finn, stop it. Brodie has his own life. I've explained this. It was great of him to stay as long as he did to help us."

Finn folded his arms and looked out the window.

There was no reason to tell him it was worse than he thought. Both her boys would discover soon enough that it was more than dinner. Brodie wasn't coming back at all.

Jamison wasn't much better when she picked him up from school, although he didn't ask specifics; he sulked.

At least they weren't heartbroken. The sulking would stop after a day or two. The heartbreak they'd experienced when Kade died still remained.

Peyton jumped when her cell phone rang. She half hoped it was Brodie, but was relieved to see Alex's name instead.

"Hey, girlfriend. Whatcha' doin'?"

"The boys and I are about to make dinner."

"Whatcha' makin'?"

"Chicken parm." It was one of their favorite comfort meals, and all three of them needed it.

"I'll grab a Sangiovese on my way."

"See ya, Alex."

She'd tell the boys Alex was on her way over, but they'd already figured it out, and neither looked happy.

"They're pissed." Alex laughed.

"No kidding." Peyton loaded the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. "Finn can go to school tomorrow. It'll be easier than having him scowl at me all day."

"Have you heard from him?"

"No, and as much as I want to, it's better this way."

Alex nodded. "I get that."

"What about you and Maddox?" Peyton asked.

"Done."

Her eyes opened wide. "Already? What happened?"

"I told you, it never lasts more than a week."

"Why not?"

"Every once in a while, we think we like each other, but really, we don't." Alex sighed. "Okay if we don't talk about it?"

"Of course." Peyton understood. She didn't want to talk about Brodie either.

Later, after Alex left, Peyton tucked the boys in, then went to bed herself. She half woke sometime in the middle of the night, feeling warm and safe, dreaming she was in bed with Kade. She snuggled against his bare chest while he ran his fingers up and down her arm.

"He loves you," said dream-Kade.

"Who loves me?"

"Brodie."

Peyton tried to turn away and pull herself out of this dream, but Kade wouldn't let her go.

"He loves you in a way I never could."

She shook herself, trying to wake up.

"Give him a chance, sweetheart. He'll love you and take care of you and the boys. He'll make you happy."

What the hell—as long as this dream refused to end, she'd get some answers.

"He's a player, Kade, like Lang. The boys will get attached to him, and then he'll leave them the same way you and their dad did."

"I'm sorry I left you, Peyton."

God, she loved the sound of his voice. The dream was so real that she could feel its vibration throughout her body.

"Why did you talk to my dad? He said you wanted to marry me," Peyton asked out loud.

"I did, but now I see how wrong it would've been."

"Thanks, Kade. Great dream this is."

"I was never the right man for you. You knew that. And even though I didn't want to admit it at the time, I knew it too. That's why I never told you about the agency."

"I loved you so much, Kade. I can't love Brodie the way I loved you."

"No, you can't. You can love him more. He's always been the one for you. He said it the other night. If he'd met you first, you wouldn't have been available to date me." Dream-Kade laughed. "He's got it bad for you, Peyton. But then, so did I."

When she reached up to kiss him, he kissed her forehead instead. "Sleep, Peyton. Sweet dreams."

When she woke, the sun was shining. In her dream, it was still dark. Damn Kade. Damn Brodie too. What did she have to do to stop thinking about them? See a hypnotist?

Peter excused himself and went to the men's room, giving Peyton time to take a deep breath. Dinner was nice, but as Alex had said about her date with him, she wasn't feeling it . She was bored out of her mind and cringed when he drove up to Mama's Meatballs. Of all the restaurants he could've chosen, why this one?

She heard the vibration of her phone that was stuffed inside her purse. She never ignored it in case it was one of her boys. Peter returned to the table at the same time she ran her finger across the screen and saw a missed call from Brodie.

"Something important?" he asked.

"No." It was a lie. She only hoped her phone would vibrate again, indicating he'd left a message. "I'm sorry, Peter. I need to return this call—you know, the boys." Another lie.

Peyton excused herself to the ladies' room and waited. Her phone didn't vibrate, which meant he hadn't left a message. She waited for a text, but that didn't come either.

"We should head home," she said when she returned to the table.

"Everything okay?"

"No, not really." That wasn't a lie; it just wasn't what he meant, and she knew it.

The waitress brought the check, and when Peyton offered to pay her share, Peter refused.

"I enjoyed having dinner with you, Peyton. I'd like to say I hope we can do it again, but I sense that won't be happening."

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"Don't be. I mean it. I enjoyed this very much."

"You're a good guy, Peter."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed. "Alex said the same thing."

Peyton winced.

"No worries, I'm sure I'm not the only guy turned down by both of the hottest women in San Luis Obispo County. Come on. I'll take you home."

She'd left her car at Stave. Even that hadn't felt right. She'd wanted to follow him down, so he didn't have to make the return trek to Cambria after dinner, but he'd insisted.

"Good night, Peter, and thanks again. I'm going to head inside for a minute and make sure everything is cleaned up. We're closed tomorrow."

"Would you like me to come in with you?"

"No, but thanks. You should get on the road. You have a long drive ahead of you."

"Thanks again for joining me tonight, Peyton. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

She unlocked the front door and slipped inside, realizing Peter was gone before she locked it behind her. Kade never would've let her come in alone after dark, or even during the day. It wasn't as though Peter hadn't offered.

Everything had been put away before they left for dinner, but Peyton wanted a minute alone before she went home. It was only a few minutes after seven, so Jamison and Finn would still be awake. She didn't anticipate they'd ask her any questions, though. They hadn't been very talkative since Brodie left. Correction—since she'd made Brodie leave. It was as though they sensed it was her fault he was gone, not his.

She poured a drink of Port, downed it, and rinsed the glass before setting the alarm and going out the rear door. The motion light Kade had installed came on when she walked outside, illuminating the man leaning against the orange Porsche parked next to her BMW.

"Peyton."

"Brodie? What are you doing here?"

"I called."

"You didn't leave a message."

Peyton stood where she was, unsure whether she should walk over to him. Had he gone by the house? Did he know she'd been out with Peter? No one other than Alex was aware of their dinner plans, and she doubted Alex would've told him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

When he moved out of the shadows, she saw his clothes were disheveled and he hadn't shaved. It didn't appear intentional. He looked as though he hadn't slept. Brodie stood in front of her, but didn't speak. He reached out, and she took his hand.

"Do you want to go in?" she asked.

"Would you mind?"

She returned inside and turned off the alarm while Brodie waited until she held the door open for him.

"Peyton, I…"

She waited, but he didn't finish his sentence.

"Can I get you a glass of Port?" She'd already had one, but that didn't matter; she could use another.

"Sure. Thanks."

She poured two drinks, carried them to the area by the fireplace, and set them down on the table. Instead of sitting, she walked over and hit the switch, igniting the gas fireplace. Brodie waited, and when she sat on the sofa, he joined her.

He picked up the wineglass and swirled it gently, took a sip, then ran his finger around the rim, staring into the fire.

Peyton longed to touch him, but with his mood, didn't. More than touch, she sensed he needed comfort, but would he accept it from her? Some of the last words she'd said to him were that he'd never be Kade. She hadn't meant it the way she knew he'd take it, but she'd had no intention, then, of explaining. Her goal had been to push him away, and she'd succeeded.

She rested her head against the leather sofa, wishing the fire were wood, so instead of the hiss of the gas, it would crackle. Any noise would be welcome. She moved to stand, intending to turn on some music, but Brodie held her arm.

"Don't go," he murmured.

His touch was warm but soft, and she covered his hand with hers, shifting her body to face him. He didn't turn his gaze from the fire, but his eyes closed, so Peyton rested her head on his shoulder.

She lost track of how long they sat in silence. Instead of drifting, her thoughts stayed on him, listening as he breathed in and out. When he moved and gripped her face, bringing his mouth to hers, she didn't fight him. She didn't pull away. She opened her mouth to his and drank him in.

"Peyton." He groaned when she shifted and lay on the sofa, giving him room to lie on top of her. His hand slipped under her sweater and squeezed her breast, then he slid his fingers inside her bra, molding her to his hand. She pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants and ran her hands over his back.

"I need you, Peyton." His fingers were between her legs, rubbing her body through her suede skirt.

After a while, she dragged the fabric up so she could feel him against her skin. With her hand so close, she lowered his zipper. Brodie freed himself, then moved her panties to the side, and Peyton gasped as he entered her. He stilled, and then slowly moved in and out.

"So good," he whispered.

Peyton grasped his behind with both hands, urging him deeper.

"Baby." He breathed into her mouth before his tongue did battle with hers.

She writhed against him, wanting him deeper still. Thankfully, Brodie grabbed her leg and brought it around him. When he slammed against her, she felt her body flood, not knowing whether she came first or he had. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, not wanting to ever let go. Kissing the side of his face, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair.

Brodie kissed her hard enough that it hurt, but she didn't care. She wanted to feel him everywhere. She didn't want soft or slow; she wanted Brodie to lose himself in her. Brodie started to move inside her again, more forcefully this time, until she felt him drench her for the second time.

He looked into her eyes. "Again."

Peyton lost track of how many times they came together, Brodie's body never separating from hers. Finally, he shifted and rolled so she was on top of him. He held the sides of her face with his hands and looked into her eyes. When she looked into his, she saw regret. "Peyton, I?—"

"Please, Brodie. Whatever you say, don't let it be that you're sorry."

"I have to. I didn't mean?—"

She climbed off him and adjusted her clothes. "You should go."

"I am sorry, Peyton."

Her voice stuck in her throat, and she ran to the ladies' room before he saw her tears.

After something so beautiful, something so perfect, he was sorry ? She held the edge of the sink as sobs wracked her body. Soon, she heard the rear door open and close, and the sound of Brodie's car speeding away.

She cleaned herself up as best she could; there'd be no hiding how hard she'd been crying, no matter how long she waited to go home. At least now, she knew her boys would be asleep. She'd do her best to avoid a conversation with Sam so she could retreat into her shower and wash the memory of Brodie from her body.