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“It was great. I had eggs and bacon and pancakes and orange juice.”
Brodie groaned at the same time Peyton did. “I’m starving,” he muttered. “Did you get anything?”
“Not yet. I haven’t wanted to leave.”
“Hey, Finn-man. Will you be okay if I leave and pick up breakfast for your mom and me?”
Brodie asked Peyton what she’d like when Finn said that sounded good to him.
“Anything will be fine, thanks.”
“I think I know your taste in breakfast foods,” he whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” She smiled.
Peyton got Finn settled in his bed at home. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get you, sweetie?” Brodie heard her ask.
“No, Mom. I’ve got a hundred books, Jamie’s phone to play games on, and I had two milkshakes.”
“Okay, but I’m down the hall if you change your mind.” When she stepped into the hallway, Brodie stood.
“I didn’t remember how red your mom’s hair is,” she said, looking around the kitchen.
“It’s natural—she wants everyone to know it, too.”
“Can I get you anything? Glass of wine?” She opened the refrigerator. “I have beer in here, if you’d prefer that.”
“Peyton, I’m fine. Come and sit down.” Brodie patted the cushion next to him on the sofa. “You’ve had a long day.”
He held out his hand, then pulled her down in front of him and rubbed her shoulders.
“God, that feels good.” She moaned.
His hands moved to her neck, then to her hair, and continued kneading her tired muscles. He felt her tension ease. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He tugged at her hand to help her stand.
“Brodie, the boys?—”
“Peyton, I’m going to tuck you in, and then I’m going to say good night.”
“Oh.”
“Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Don’t pout. You stick that lower lip out, and I’m a goner. I’m a goner anyway when I’m with you. Listen, I know it’s not right for me to stay with your boys here. I get that. Okay?”
“Thanks for understanding, Brodie.”
“I’ll call you in the morning. Stave is closed, right?”
“Yes, I’ll be able to stay home with Finn tomorrow. Oh, wait. Crap. Jamison.”
“What about Jamison?”
“I need to take him to school. Alex is not a morning person. I can’t ask my parents. They took him this morning. Maybe I’ll let him stay home with us tomorrow.”
“There’s another solution, Peyton.”
“No, Brodie. I can’t ask you to do it either. He has to be there at seven-thirty. By the time you got home, you’d have to turn around and come back.”
He pushed her toward the bedroom. “Get in bed.”
