“Yeah?” he asked, appearing annoyed.
She slapped a hand to her collar bone, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, thank god. Why weren’t you answering?” she demanded.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said simply. “What do you want?”
“I want to see you,” she told him. “I’ve been missing you.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Are you going to tell me why you ran away?”
He rolled over on his bed, sitting up. When he still didn’t answer, she sat down beside of him. “Kyle?”
“What, Mom?” he snapped.
“Can you please talk to me? Why did you leave? Do you have any idea how worried about you I was?” she asked, her voice growing quieter as she fought back tears.
He looked at her then, his eyes truly meeting hers, and a softness filled his face. He was quiet for a moment longer before he spoke. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said honestly.
“Why would you leave? What did I do wrong?” she asked, welcoming the tears that fell suddenly. “Don’t you know that you’re all I have left? You’re everything that matters to me, Kyle.”
He looked away awkwardly, his eyes darting back to his mother every few seconds. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said finally.
“Why then?” she asked. “Why would you run away? Why would you go to your grandmother’s house instead of just talking to me?”
He shrugged, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t like that answer, Kyle. I need to know why. I need to know what I can do to make sure that never happens again,” she begged him.
“I came home, Mom. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
“I want the truth,” she said. “I want you to tell me why you left. Is it because Frank told you about the job?”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Is it because of Clay? Because he stayed overnight?”
He looked disgusted. “No!”
“Then what? What is it?”
“I just needed to get away,” he said finally.
“Away from what? Away from me?”
He stood up from the bed, appearing agitated. “Just…just away. Away from all of it.”
She stood too, walking toward him. He backed away. “Kyle, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
“You can’t help me anyway, Mom. Just drop it, okay?” he asked, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heatedly.
“Kyle—” she pleaded, interrupted by the bedroom door swinging wide open. In the doorway stood Frank, his eyes wide.
“Peighton, come with me,” he told her.
“We’re in the middle of something. Is everything all right?” she asked, fear filling her.
“Now,” he said simply, turning and walking back down the hall. She moved toward the door, turning back to face Kyle before she left.
“We’ll finish this conversation in a minute,” she said, casting a longing look at him once more before disappearing out the door.
When she walked into the office behind Frank, she thought she was prepared for the worst. “What did you find?” she asked, bracing herself for trouble.
“I found out who broke into your house the last time your alarm went off.”
“Okay,” she said, holding her breath. He stared at her for a moment, his face serious. “Show me, Frank!” she demanded. He sat down at the desk, grabbing hold of the laptop and spinning it to face her. She stared down at the computer, lowering herself to look at the dark screen. She squinted, trying to make out just what she was looking at before gasping.
“Is that—?” she asked, but she knew exactly who she was looking at. She’d looked into that face so often lately. Trusted that face. Loved that face.
“Peighton, it’s Clay.”
Thirty-Two
PEIGHTON
Peighton sat next to Frank in the car, staring ahead at the light that shone out of Clay’s living room window. They’d been sitting for so long, her entire window was fogged up. In her lap, she held her hands together, wringing them with worry.
“Are you ready?” Frank asked again, touching her shoulder gently. She shook her head, unable to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” She nodded.
His eyes bore into her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look his way. She felt foolish, embarrassed. “What am I supposed to say to him?”
“Ask him why.”
“But,” she asked, turning to look his way, “what if he lies?”
“Then I’ll kick his ass,” he joked, elbowing her playfully.
“Frank,” she cautioned him, not in the mood for jokes.
“Just ask him for the truth, Peighton. If he lies, it’s his loss.”
She shook her head, rubbing her temple with her cold fingers. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think I could trust him. I let him into my life, Frank, my son’s life, our home…” she trailed off, not saying what they both knew was on the tip of her tongue: my heart.
“Hey,” he told her, his voice firm, “you are not stupid. You are kind and trusting, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s one of your best qualities. You’ve always been able to find the good in people, Peight. Even when there’s no good to be found. If you see something in this guy, then maybe there’s something there. But for now, you need to find out why he’s been lying to you. Because if he hurts you,” he stopped, his jaw tight. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
She froze. “I’m scared to go in.”
“Then let me go in with you. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be there to make sure you’re safe.”
“He isn’t dangerous,” she assured him, though she wasn’t entirely sure how she knew.
“You don’t know that,” he called her bluff.
“I’ll be okay, Frank, I swear,” she said, placing her hand on the door handle and pulling. The car door opened, the overhead light coming on. She cast one last look toward Frank before climbing out of the car. “I’ll be back,” she promised.
“I’ll be here,” he said.
She made her way up the short driveway and onto his front patio, pausing slightly before she opened the screen door and knocked. Within seconds she saw the curtain in his living room window swish open and then closed, and she heard footsteps. The oak door swung open. Clay stood in front of her, dressed only in flannel pajama pants.
“Peighton? What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression filled with worry. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come inside?” she asked, staring at his face and wondering what secrets were hidden behind the eyes she’d come to trust.
“Of course,” he said, stepping back and allowing her to pass. “Is everything all right?” he asked, shutting the door and turning around to face her.
She looked down, unsure of how to start the conversation. Finally, gaining enough courage to speak, she looked up at him. “I know what you did.”
Without hesitation, he spoke, his brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I know you lied to me.”
“What did I lie about?”
“Who broke into my house the night the alarm went off?” she asked, searching his face for a glimmer of realization. She wondered if he would try to lie again.
He sighed, lowering his head and rubbing his neck. “I did,” he said finally. “I’m sorry, Peighton.”
She paused, taken back by his honesty. She was sure she was going to have to drag it out of him. “You did?”
“Didn’t you know that?” he asked.
“Yes, I did. I didn’t assume that you’d confess so easily.”
“I told you I don’t want any secrets between us and I meant it,” he said, stepping toward her.
She stepped back, bumping into his coffee table. “Why wouldn’t you have told me before now?” she demanded.
“I wanted to,” he told her, moving back and giving her space. “I really wanted to, I just didn’t know how. I didn’t wa
nt you to stop trusting me.”
“Well, that plan backfired, Clay, because I don’t trust you now. I don’t understand what you could’ve possibly gained from breaking into my home. You have no idea how scared I was that night, you have no idea what I went through. I went to bed every night for days worrying about someone breaking in and hurting me. Every noise, every gust of wind…I was terrified. And now to find out it was you all along. I don’t know how to move past that. I don’t know how to accept what you’ve done.”
He stared at her, hurt filling his eyes. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I know that. I felt like I had no choice.”
“No choice?” she demanded. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I needed to get close to you, Peighton, like I’ve told you. I needed you to trust me. I didn’t know how to do that when you’d just lost your husband. I didn’t know how to push myself into your life except to…well, to physically push myself into your life. I thought if I came to your rescue, so to speak, you’d trust me. I wanted to show you that I meant you no harm, but I needed in that house.”
“Because of Beelzebub? And your wife?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“I feel like we’re just going to keep having this fight over and over. How much of our relationship is a lie? How many more secrets are we going to have to deal with?” she asked.
“Just that. You know everything now. I’m not hiding anything else from you. I was serious when I said I want to start this with a clean slate. I want to be with you. I don’t want anything I’ve done to mess that up. I’m serious about you…about us. Everything before this…if I could take it back, I would. But then again, maybe I wouldn’t…because that would mean there would be a chance we wouldn’t be here, right now. And, even here, even fighting with you, is better than never knowing you, never getting to know you…never loving you, Peighton. If this is it, if you can’t forgive me for what I’d done before we ever even had our first real conversation, then I get it. I can’t blame you. But I’m asking you to really, really think about whether it’s worth it. Because, if you feel about me the way I feel about you, nothing, not a thing in hell, could be worth walking away from this.”
She stared at him, watching him literally shaking as he spoke to her. She saw the passion in his eyes, believed every word that poured out of his mouth. The panic in his expression, the redness of his cheeks…she wanted nothing more than to run to him, to assure him that she wasn’t going anywhere, but she remained still.
“You fell in love with me?” she asked cautiously.
“I did,” he confirmed.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, trying hard to maintain her composure.
“I know what I want you to say,” he said honestly, “but I can’t make that decision for you. You have to do what’s right for you, Peighton.”
“I don’t know, Clay,” she said, staring around the room.
He walked to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Do you trust me?”
“You lied to me.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“You broke into my house.”
“Peighton,” he said firmly, “that’s not what I asked you. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said finally, her voice leaving her without conscious thought.
“Then what else matters?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs across her shoulder blades.
She shook her head. “I’m in love with you too,” she said.
His eyes went soft, and he looked as if the wind had been sucked out of him. “That matters,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Yes,” she agreed. “That matters.”
For a moment, they both stared at each other, neither of them moving. When a small tear escaped, trailing down her cheek, he leaned in to kiss it away. She closed her eyes, feeling his lips on her skin. She turned her head slightly, allowing their lips to meet. It was a gentle kiss, full of the weight of what had just happened. Everything from that moment, she knew, would change.
She opened her mouth slightly, allowing him to kiss her deeper, yet they remained slow. She was in no hurry. They were in love, she reminded herself, the thought warming her insides. She threw her arms around him, locking her hands together behind his neck. A smile spread across her face, ending their kiss. He pulled away, smiling back at her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Everything’s perfect,” she told him, and for the moment, it was.
Thirty-Three
CLAY
“Nealson,” the voice behind him called. Clay turned around.
“Sharp, what’s up?” he asked the officer.
“Mackenzie asked me to drop this off with you,” he said, holding up a manila folder. “Lab results.”
Clay’s heart jumped, realizing what the envelope contained. He stood up, taking it from the man. “Thanks.” He stared at the folder, wondering if it was appropriate for him to open. She had asked him to run the test, after all. She’d trusted him with the knowledge of what would be in it. He looked up, realizing Sharp was still standing in front of him.
“Is that all?” he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
“Oh,” Sharp said, looking sheepish. “Yeah. Which case is that for?” he asked, still not moving.
“Don’t you have paperwork you should be doing?” Clay asked, changing the subject.
“Nah, it’s a slow day,” he responded, sitting down across from his desk. “C’mon, what is it?” he asked.
Looking over Sharp’s shoulder, Clay smiled happily, raising a hand up to wave. “Oh, hey Chief!”
Sharp jumped up, spinning around quickly. Realizing the chief was nowhere in sight and he’d been duped, he turned to Clay, throwing a wad of paper at him. “Ass,” he said playfully.
Clay laughed, ducking out of the way. “Get back to work, kid.” He shook his head, standing up from the desk and walking away before Sharp could ask any further questions. He headed out of the station, the folder still in his hands. Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he unlocked his truck and climbed in. He stared at the papers that hung out of the sides, not revealing enough of what Clay wanted so desperately to see.
He laid it beside of him in the seat, refusing to look. It wasn’t his business, he reminded himself. Not yet anyway. He would let Peighton tell him the results if she wanted him to know. If not, that would be okay too.
He pulled away from the station, pulling down the visor to shield his eyes. As he drove, he thought of her. It had been only a few days since he’d seen her, yet it felt much longer. He couldn’t help but let his mind drift off to her even when he was actively thinking of something else. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, and if she was thinking of him. He laughed out loud, realizing he hadn’t felt this way in years. It was as if he were a teenager again.
As he pulled into their neighborhood, he drove past his house and onto the road where Peighton lived. He made his way into her driveway and climbed out of the truck, grabbing the folder from his passenger’s seat. When he arrived at the front door, he took a deep breath, stood up straight, and knocked on the glass of her screen door softly.
The door opened almost immediately, though instead of Peighton he found himself staring at Kyle. The boy looked him up and down, his eyebrows raised.
“Hey, Kyle.” He smiled at him, trying to decipher his expression.
Kyle stepped back, looking behind him. “Mom!” he yelled into the house.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Clay told him once he was inside and the door had been shut.
Kyle nodded, though he didn’t respond. They stood awkwardly in silence, both avoiding eye contact before Kyle finally gave up, shrugging and walking out of the room. Clay sighed, wondering where Peighton could be.
When she finally appeared, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a towel wrapped around her head. Her face was free of makeup and she looked completely shocked to see him.
“Clay!” she sai
d when she walked into the living room, her cheeks flushing. She reached up, grabbing the towel and pulling it off her head immediately. Her long, honey hair fell in loose, wet tendrils and she ran her hands through it nervously. “What are you doing here?”
“Kyle let me in,” he assured her. “I brought you something.”
“Oh?” She smiled, looking excited for a moment before her eyes found the folder in his hands. “Oh.”
“I didn’t read it,” he promised her.
She held out her hands. “Did Kyle see this?” she whispered.
“If he noticed it, he didn’t ask what it was.”
“Okay,” she said, walking into the kitchen and laying the folder on the table. She took a deep breath, bracing herself. She looked at him one last time before flipping open the file and reading, her finger tracing along the page. After a few minutes, she closed it once again, not looking at him.
“Peighton?” he asked. “Is it…is everything okay?”
She pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose. “No,” she said. “No. It’s the news I expected, I guess, but it’s not good news.”
He pressed his lips together, stepping through the doorway into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you bring my husband back from the dead, so I can kill him?” she joked, tears filling her eyes.
He approached her, wrapping her in his arms, and rubbing her back. She settled her face into his shoulder and he could feel her warm breath seeping through his shirt. She inhaled sharply, and he knew she was crying. He pressed his cheek into hers, allowing her to cry for as long as she needed. Her wet hair fell onto his face, but he didn’t dare move.
Finally, she pulled away, wiping her eyes quickly. “This isn’t your problem, Clay.’”
He moved a piece of hair out of her eyes. “If it’s your problem, it’s my problem, Ace. What can I do to help?”
“There’s nothing to do,” she said.
“Well, what can I do to make you feel better?”
She sighed, staring at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
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