We fall asleep on the couch, too tired to move, too afraid to let go. I’ve never felt safer, and Peyton Quinn wishes we could stay this way forever. But Peyton Kingsley knows there’s work to be done, and at least when Christmas Day comes tomorrow, in all its complicated glory, we'll face it together.
Chapter 16
Blake
I wake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and Peyton's weight against my chest. For a moment, I don't move, and just lie there cataloging sensations: the ache in my ribs, the throb in my shoulder, the way her breathing has synchronized with mine during the night.
We're still on the couch, still fully dressed, or wearing what's left of our clothes after last night's disaster. My tuxedo pants are streaked with soot and blood. Her black dress is torn at the hem, smudged with ash. We look like we survived a war because we did.
Peyton stirs, makes a small sound of protest as she wakes. Then she freezes, remembering where we are, what happened, and why.
"Hey," I say quietly. “Morning."
She lifts her head, and I see the moment reality settles back in. The fire. Silas. Her father. All of it.
"What time is it?" Her voice is rough from a red-wine-induced sleep.
"Just past nine." I check my phone, which Talia had delivered to our room during the night with a note: Forgot to give you this. Get some rest and don't do anything stupid. Merry Christmas -T
"How are you feeling?”
"Like I jumped out of a burning building and landed on my fucked-up shoulder." I try to smile. "But grateful to be alive. How about you, Miss Kingsley?”
"Exhausted…and thinking about how we still need to have that conversation." She stands and moves to the window.
Oh, damn. This is it.
“Let’s do it.”
She's quiet for a long moment, watching what seems to be the last of the forecasted snow flurries fall. When she finally speaks, her voice is carefully controlled. "Tell me everything. From the beginning. Don't leave anything out."
I stand despite my protesting ribs and move to join her at the window. I don’t touch her like I want to, but I stand close enough that I can see her reflection in the glass.
"I stayed in Wintervale for a few weeks after burning the warehouse." I keep my voice steady and factual. "I was lying low, trying to figure out my next move, even though Silas was furious and hadn't decided yet whether to kill me.”
Peyton's reflection shows no emotion. I hate that I can’t read her right now, but at least she’s listening.
"Your mother found me at the smoke shop where I was getting some vape supplies. I was smoking a lot back then,” I explain because I’m having an aha moment. Since I’ve met Peyton, I haven’t been smoking as much. Perhaps she is the calming force I never knew I needed. “She'd been asking around about me, about what happened at White Ember. She'd heard I was the one Delano who might actually be able to help her.” I shake my head. “She was wrong, but she didn't know that yet."
"What exactly did she say to you?”
"She mentioned she’d done some genealogy research and believed she was a Kingsley. She said she was coming to me because she knew the family would fight her on it, because it would embarrass the Kingsleys’ Anglo, elitist image. " I close my eyes, remembering Lila's face. It was so much like Peyton's, gorgeous and full of determination. "She thought she needed protection from bullying and harassment. I don’t think she knew exactly what going public would mean, and neither did I. She didn’t mention a Kingsley trust to me, and I really don’t think she even knew about it. In my opinion, I think she wanted to embarrass them.”
“But you said no to that.”
"I said no." The words taste like ash. “Because I wasn’t sure if her research was accurate, or if I wanted to get involved.”
“It didn’t seem important enough for you?” she asks with a venomous bite to her words. “It wasn’t human trafficking important?”
“Okay, Peyton.”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know exactly what you’re saying, but understand this. I’m not a gun for hire, and I’m not a lawyer. I didn’t know your mother, and I didn’t owe her anything. If I knew what I know now, would I have handled things differently? Fuck yeah. But hindsight is 20/20, Peyton. And I can’t go back in time no matter how much I want to for you...and for her.”
“I wish you could.” Peyton's eyes fill with tears. “Did she mention me at all?”
“Your mom and I didn’t have another conversation after that one meeting, but I could tell she was a woman who wanted to leave you a legacy to be proud of. She didn’t want to be shoved in a corner any longer.”
