Page 69 of Breakout
“We will look around on our own, if that’s okay with you,” Beckett tells him.
Jeeves smiles. “This is your home, and you are free to do as you please. I’m here to assist until you tell me otherwise.”
“Is that something you want? To leave, I mean,” I blurt out.
Jeeves’s smile softens. “I promised your grandfather I would stay until you ask me to leave. I’m here to answer any and all questions you may have.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. You’ll find intercoms stationed throughout the house. Just buzz me, and I’ll come to you.” He turns on his heel and walks through a pair of swinging doors.
I turn toward Beckett and hiss under my breath. “We have a freaking butler.”
“Yes, we do.” He smirks. “Come on, let’s see what else we have.”
We pass by room after room until we finally find the one that looks the most lived in. An office.
I walk around the beautifully carved wooden desk. For some reason, the little nicks and dings in the wood make me smile. The leather wingback chair is worn and cracked. There’s a little end table next to the chair with a framed wedding photo and a stack of books.
I pick up the photo, and longing courses through me. This must be my grandparents. God, they both look so young and in love. It’s kind of crazy when you think about it that those two people had no idea what was to come of the family they were creating.
“I found some photo albums,” Beckett says.
I set the frame back where I found it and walk over to him. I rest my chin on the side of his shoulder and lean into his body as he flips through.
Births, deaths, parties, and holidays. Event after event photographed for them to remember. None of the people are familiar to me even though they should be. If he would have taken me in after my parents died, maybe my photo would be in here, mixed with everyone else’s.
“Peyton.”
“Hmm?”
“Look.”
Almost as if I wished it into existence, right there on the page is a birth announcement from a newspaper. In the grainy black-and-white photo, my parents are beaming as they hold a blanket-clad me. My mom’s bangs are teased, making them look like poof balls on her forehead, and my dad has what I can only assume is a form of a mullet.
Holy shit.
That’s what they looked like when I was born?
“Your mom was a babe,” Beckett teases.
“Seriously?” I grumble as I pinch his side.
Beckett chuckles. “Sorry, I had to. You’re almost a carbon copy of her.”
“I can’t believe he had that,” I say, slightly changing the subject.
“Just because your dad and mom left the family doesn’t mean your grandfather stopped caring.”
If he really cared, though, he would have taken me in.
Beckett must read the thought on my face. “Pey…”
Before he can say anything else, a loud commotion gets our attention.
“Is someone else here?” he mutters as he shuts the album.
“Jeeves never said, and I didn’t hear a car pull up. Did you?”
