“Peyton—”
“It’s okay,” she said, cutting me off as I pulled into Susan’s driveway. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” She reached for the door handle as I put the truck in park, and I reached out my hand to stop her.
“Why does this sound like goodbye?” I asked, and Peyton smiled sadly, then leaned over the middle seat to kiss me on the cheek, allowing her lips to linger there for a moment longer than necessary.
“Because it is,” she said, and before I could stop her she hopped out of the truck, shimmering silver dress catching in the breeze. All I could do was stare after her like an idiot as she disappeared into her mother’s house, shutting the cold—and me—out behind her.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, wondering if it was a better idea to chase her, or to give her some space. But I knew Peyton, and I knew that giving her some space was probably the best thing to do. She would cool off, she always did. And when that happened, maybe we could finally have an adult conversation.
Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.
Chapter18
Peyton
“Hello, sweet pea,” Mom said as I stepped through the door and shut it behind me, stopping near the closet to kick the heels from my aching feet. Outside in the driveway, I could still hear the low purr of Korbin’s truck, but after a minute or so I heard him pull away, and the tears that had threatened to spill the last half hour or so finally erupted.
“Peyton,” Mom said with alarm, getting up from her recliner to cross the room to me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did something happen?”
I shook my head and wiped away the tears before they were unstoppable, going to the kitchen for a glass of wine. My mom followed me, the concern etched in her features.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, and my mother’s face fell. I poured myself a glass of wine and took a long drink, then turned to face my mother. “How are you feeling, Mom? Still doing okay?”
“I’m doing great, Peyton,” she said softly. “But I have a feeling that will cost me, won’t it?”
“Cost you?” I repeated, taking another drink from the wine glass. My mother was silent for a moment as she stared at me, her worried eyes scanning my face, hands wringing together anxiously.
“I’m going to lose you all over again,” she said, and the pain in her voice was evident. I sighed and set the wine glass down, reaching out a hand to take hers with a gentle squeeze.
“No,” I said softly. “Not like before. I’ll be here for the holidays, okay? I’ll be back to visit as much as I can. I promise.”
“I don’t want you to leave, Peyton,” my mother said, trailing after me as I walked upstairs and into my childhood bedroom, going to the closet for my suitcase. As I dragged it onto the bed to pack my stuff, I texted Rem, letting him know that I’d be coming home in the morning. And staying home.
“I need to get back to my life, Mom,” I said patiently, unable to meet her gaze as I flitted around my bedroom, packing my stuff. “I only came home to take care of you. And—and you’re better now, hopefully better for good—so I need to go. I have an apartment to go back to and job to work.” I stopped packing briefly to turn and look at my mother. The expression on her face shattered me from the inside out, but I couldn’t let it detour me. I couldn’tdothis, not here, not after I’d already made my mistake and paid for it. I wasn’t about to do that again.
“I understand, sweetie,” my mom said softly, stepping up to me and reaching her hand out to place it on my arm. She gently pulled me around to face her, and an eruption of emotions overcame me. I fell into my mother’s arms as the tears started again, drying my skin and smearing the makeup I’d worn to the wedding. I was a little girl again, sobbing into my mother’s arms over a bleeding scratch or a broken heart. I didn’t want to leave her, not after all she’d been through, but I couldn’t stay. Too many memories. Too much past.
“Amanda will be here to help you when you need it,” I assured her, wincing on the words as they fell from my mouth. “And if you need me, I’ll be just a phone call away.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Mom asked, and I shook my head, squeezing her just a bit tighter. “I need some me time. I need to sort my priorities, you know?”
“I understand,” she said softly. “I really do.”
“I’m going to bed, Mom.” I hugged her one last time and then turned to walk up the staircase, my legs heavy as lead. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
It wasn’t until I was back in my room with the door closed that I lost it again, falling head-first onto my bed to bury my face into a pillow as I sobbed. I felt horrible, pathetic. I hated myself for wasting so much time once again on the man who had shattered me the first time. I felt like I had just barely picked up the pieces again before handing them over to him, hoping for the best. I hated it. I hated him. But mostly, I hated me.
Still lying on my bed, I reached for the cell phone in my pocket and stared at the screen, wanting to call Rem, but wanting to call someone else even more. My thumb hovered over his name for a moment before I finally pressed call, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” Jake answered, and a tiny flutter of hope rose in my chest. “Peyton, is that you?”
“Hi, Jake.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and sat up, taking a deep breath that shook me to my core. “I’m sorry to be calling so late.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “I love hearing from you.” In the background I could hear the music playing, could catch the sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses. He was at the club, which is where I suddenly longed to be. With him. With anyone other than Korbin Butler.
“I’m moving home,” I told him, my breath catching in my throat. “My mom is better and my apartment is waiting. I just figured you’d want to know that.”
