Not in this room, with bits of what he’d walked away
from surrounding him like a torch-brandishing mob.
Peyton wound up in his grandfather’s study, hunched over
the chessboard with himself as his opponent. He studied the pieces, testing
himself as he moved them across the board until he’d backed himself into a
corner and gave up on the effort, leaving the match unfinished. By then the sun
had begun to rise and he heard heavy footsteps down the hall.
Jasper, he knew without hesitation. The butler had always
seemed to wake up at the crack of dawn.
“Mister Peyton,” the older man greeted, pausing in the
open doorway, “you’re awake early. And you look like you haven’t slept at all.”
“Guess I’m not used to that room yet.” It still puzzled
him how even at the first hint of daybreak the butler was fully dressed and
polished. “Got a lot to think about—which I’m sure you already know. C’mon,
Jasper, the butler sees all, hears all, knows all.”
Jasper started to continue down the hall, then changed
direction and ventured into the study. “May I speak freely?”
“Always.”
“Things could be better for Valerie and Lucy, but they
could be worse, too. If you put yourself into their lives, do you know which
way that will tip the scales for them?”
Peyton picked up a rook, pretending to mull over where to
place the piece on the chessboard. “Thought you were going to speak freely,
Jasper.”
“I am.”
“No.” Peyton looked at him full-on. “You’re tiptoeing
around what you want to say. Think I should step back?”
“Consider Lucy, that’s all.”
“Absolutely. She needs a father.”
Jasper went over to part the draperies as he said, “When
you were being brought up people used to say you needed a mother.”
Peyton dropped the rook onto the board, shooting to his feet
as it rolled to the edge. “Interesting you made that comment to me with your
back turned.” There was more hurt than anger behind the words, and none of it
really directed at Jasper. Onlookers who’d tsk-tsked over his rebellion had
been quick to throw out commentary. Some had suggested his grandfather handle
things the “old Texas way” with a belt to Peyton’s ass. Others had urged him to
consider overseas boarding schools. And there had been several who’d sworn up
and down that Nathaniel gallivanted too much and Estella was too soft-hearted
to manage him. An out-of-control boy with no mother around would only grow up
to be ruthless with no respect for women.
Thankfully, Nathaniel hadn’t unleashed his mother as a
tactic to force Peyton to conform to the life his father had been suited for,
but hadn’t finished. He’d been glad, because it meant that beyond the thick
coat of disappointment, Nathaniel would try to protect him.
Though his idea of protection included controlling
Peyton’s life, from his career path to the girls he dated, Nathaniel had worked
hard to keep Marin Beck at arm’s length, but money and her bargaining chip of a
son had been reason for her to return to Night Sky over and over again, hurting
Peyton worse each time he dared to trust, forgive and love her just because she
was his mother.
Jasper faced him, closed-mouthed and nowhere near an
apology. Though he wasn’t going to say it, Peyton admired the man for it. He
considered him an equal, not a “servant” like he’d heard some of his grandfather’s
people refer to him. But his words still stung.
“What’s the phrase? ‘Apples and oranges’? Jasper, my
mother was a lying, drunken gold-digger. The first two I might be able to
understand—if I tried really, really hard. The third? Hell, no.” He held out
his hands, palms up. “Then there’s me. I was fucked up all those years ago, all
right? I took a few wrong turns. I had to leave, because if I hadn’t, things
would’ve been worse. But, c’mon, I’d never hurt my kid.”
“What kind of father would you be? You didn’t come here
to stay. If you get close and
from surrounding him like a torch-brandishing mob.
Peyton wound up in his grandfather’s study, hunched over
the chessboard with himself as his opponent. He studied the pieces, testing
himself as he moved them across the board until he’d backed himself into a
corner and gave up on the effort, leaving the match unfinished. By then the sun
had begun to rise and he heard heavy footsteps down the hall.
Jasper, he knew without hesitation. The butler had always
seemed to wake up at the crack of dawn.
“Mister Peyton,” the older man greeted, pausing in the
open doorway, “you’re awake early. And you look like you haven’t slept at all.”
“Guess I’m not used to that room yet.” It still puzzled
him how even at the first hint of daybreak the butler was fully dressed and
polished. “Got a lot to think about—which I’m sure you already know. C’mon,
Jasper, the butler sees all, hears all, knows all.”
Jasper started to continue down the hall, then changed
direction and ventured into the study. “May I speak freely?”
“Always.”
“Things could be better for Valerie and Lucy, but they
could be worse, too. If you put yourself into their lives, do you know which
way that will tip the scales for them?”
Peyton picked up a rook, pretending to mull over where to
place the piece on the chessboard. “Thought you were going to speak freely,
Jasper.”
“I am.”
“No.” Peyton looked at him full-on. “You’re tiptoeing
around what you want to say. Think I should step back?”
“Consider Lucy, that’s all.”
“Absolutely. She needs a father.”
Jasper went over to part the draperies as he said, “When
you were being brought up people used to say you needed a mother.”
Peyton dropped the rook onto the board, shooting to his feet
as it rolled to the edge. “Interesting you made that comment to me with your
back turned.” There was more hurt than anger behind the words, and none of it
really directed at Jasper. Onlookers who’d tsk-tsked over his rebellion had
been quick to throw out commentary. Some had suggested his grandfather handle
things the “old Texas way” with a belt to Peyton’s ass. Others had urged him to
consider overseas boarding schools. And there had been several who’d sworn up
and down that Nathaniel gallivanted too much and Estella was too soft-hearted
to manage him. An out-of-control boy with no mother around would only grow up
to be ruthless with no respect for women.
Thankfully, Nathaniel hadn’t unleashed his mother as a
tactic to force Peyton to conform to the life his father had been suited for,
but hadn’t finished. He’d been glad, because it meant that beyond the thick
coat of disappointment, Nathaniel would try to protect him.
Though his idea of protection included controlling
Peyton’s life, from his career path to the girls he dated, Nathaniel had worked
hard to keep Marin Beck at arm’s length, but money and her bargaining chip of a
son had been reason for her to return to Night Sky over and over again, hurting
Peyton worse each time he dared to trust, forgive and love her just because she
was his mother.
Jasper faced him, closed-mouthed and nowhere near an
apology. Though he wasn’t going to say it, Peyton admired the man for it. He
considered him an equal, not a “servant” like he’d heard some of his grandfather’s
people refer to him. But his words still stung.
“What’s the phrase? ‘Apples and oranges’? Jasper, my
mother was a lying, drunken gold-digger. The first two I might be able to
understand—if I tried really, really hard. The third? Hell, no.” He held out
his hands, palms up. “Then there’s me. I was fucked up all those years ago, all
right? I took a few wrong turns. I had to leave, because if I hadn’t, things
would’ve been worse. But, c’mon, I’d never hurt my kid.”
“What kind of father would you be? You didn’t come here
to stay. If you get close and
Similar Books
