Page 211 of Steamy Ever After

“No, you don’t. What made him think confronting you in the supermarket was a good idea?”

“He didn’t confront me. I don’t think he expected to see me.”

“You’re right. I’m sure he drives forty miles out of his way to a grocery store a tenth of the size of the one located less than ten minutes outside the gates of Butler Ranch because…I don’t know…Louie’s selection of mortadella is better?”

“You aren’t helping. I feel bad enough as it is.”

Alex reached over and rested her hand on Peyton’s. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Tell me what I should do. I don’t want to call the ranch.”

“Why not? Kade’s parents ask about you all the time. I’m sure they’d like to hear from you.”

“I can’t.”

“I can, if you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“They’re our neighbors, right?”

Los Caballeros, the thousand-acre ranch owned by Alex’s family, bordered Butler Ranch. The Avilas and Butlers hadn’t always gotten along, but when Alex’s father passed away a few years ago, the long-standing feud between Laird Butler and Alfonso Avila was set aside.

“Of course I don’t mind. Do you want me to take whatever Brodie wanted to give you?”

“No. Please tell them…I can’t.”

“Can’t what? I’m lost.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

“Peyton—”

She stood and left the office before Alex finished her sentence.

When her friend followed, Peyton covered her ears.

“Jesus, what are you? A ten-year-old? Stop this.”

Without responding, Peyton exited through the rear door of the building and got in her car. For the second time that morning, she ran away.

Instead of going home, she parked her car near the trail leading down to the ocean’s edge. A long walk on the beach might help clear her head, then maybe she’d be able to find the grown-up living inside her and stop acting like the child Alex had called her out as.

BRODIE

It took a minute before Brodie recognized the woman standing in front of him. He’d only seen photos of her, and not many.

“Find Peyton,” his mother had said, motioning to a box. “We need to give this to her.”

“He’s been gone over a year, Ma, and you haven’t heard a word from her since the funeral.”

“I don’t care. This belongs to her.”

The box contained his oldest brother’s effects he’d asked to be given to Peyton if anything happened to him.

He’d followed her outside when she bolted out of the store, and he watched her cross the street and climb into a black four-series BMW. When the engine started but the car didn’t move, he’d sat at one of the market’s tables, waiting for her to drive away.

He’d leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees when, moments later, Peyton reversed the car and drove in the opposite direction, to the rear of the parking lot. It would’ve been easier to go out the front, but then she’d be facing him.

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