“Hello?” a semi-familiar voice called, and Peyton breathed a sigh of relief, kicking her feet over the side of the bed to stand up.
“It’s Rem,” she said. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I suppose I should get dressed and come say hello as well.” I owed her best friend a lot, even if Peyton didn’t know the smaller details. If he wanted to tell her, he could, but I didn’t think it mattered much. I’d leave it up to him.
Peyton dressed and left the bedroom first, and as I did the same, I could hear their voices floating around in the air out there. I pulled on my hooded sweatshirt and joined them a moment later, not really surprised to see the small smirk playing on Remington’s face when he saw me.
“You’re not Jake,” he said, and Peyton and I exchanged a glance.
“Jake is an asshole,” she said softly. “He basically attacked me last night, right before Korbin got here.”
“Jesus, Peyton, are you kidding me?” Remington sat down on an empty stool and looked at her, horrified. “Did he hurt you?”
“He tried,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. I came up behind her and rested my hands on her shoulders, hoping my small comfort would put her at ease. “But he didn’t. Not really. He’s gone now.”
“And he won’t be back,” I muttered. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“I never would have expected that,” said Rem, reaching over to squeeze Peyton’s hand. “He seemed like a decent guy.”
“Maybe too decent,” she said. “Maybe that was my mistake. It was too fake to be real.”
“Fuck him,” said Remington. “I hope he stays gone for good.”
“Forget about him,” Peyton said, brushing it off. “Korbin came. I don’t know how, but he showed up just when I needed him.”
Remington and I shared a glance that Peyton must have noticed, but we didn’t say anything at first, and she peered back and forth between us suspiciously.
“What are you hiding?” she asked us. “Out with it.”
“I’m the one who gave Korbin the address to the apartment,” said Remington, hanging his head almost shamefully. “I hope you’re not angry.”
Peyton looked at him and then over to me. “When on earth did you guys get together for this little chat of yours?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“He might have dropped by the station not long ago. Apparently, he’s been worried about you.”
“Rem!” Peyton scolded. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that my best friend wasn’t getting better,” he said, standing up from the stool to go around the counter and hug her. “And I was worried that she never would get better. I hoped maybe if Korbin was able to see you face-to-face, to really talk to you, something might change.”
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” I said, taking one of her hands so I could kiss the back of it. “I had no idea that you were as sad as I was. I thought that being away from me would make you happy.”
“Yeah, well, so did I,” she said with a shrug, squeezing my hand back. “But I was wrong. So, thank you—thank you for coming. And Rem, thank you for making him come. I seem to be surrounded by the best of people who know how to look out for me.”
“All this talk is making me hungry,” said Rem, glancing at the watch on his wrist. “I can make breakfast. Who’s hungry?”
“I’m starving,” said Peyton, and I grinned.
“Remington, are you opposed to letting me cook for you both?” I asked. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“By all means,” he said, putting his hands in the air as if to surrender. “The kitchen is yours.”
I prepared a large breakfast of jam-stuffed French toast sprinkled with powdered sugar, eggs benedict, maple bacon, and a small fruit salad for the three of us, and we sat down together at the breakfast bar and ate. Conversation flowed easy, and Remington had me laughing so hard that I had actual tears flowing from my eyes by the time breakfast was finished and we were enjoying homemade hot chocolate. It felt good. It felt better than good. It feltright.
“So, I hate to be the party pooper,” he said, going to the fridge to top off his hot chocolate with more whipping cream. “But what happens now?”
Peyton and I looked at each other, unsure of what to say. We hadn’t decided that far yet. Truthfully, I didn’t want to think about the hard stuff. I just wanted to drink my cocoa and enjoy the moment.
“I don’t know,” Peyton said softly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She wasn’t wearing the ring, I noticed, but I wasn’t too concerned about it. I wouldn’t fuck things up this time; I would let her take the lead. A moment later she dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled the ring out, holding up for Remington to see. He gave a low whistle, eyebrows popping up.
