Page 28 of Merry Little Christmas
I shook my head. “No, no. Partner’s fine. You’re sure?”
Cole smiled against my lips. “Peyton, I’ve moved you into my house and you’ve monopolized so much of my mind for the last fifteen years that I’m not sure any of it belongs to me anymore. Yes, I’m sure. When we go to Kentucky next week, come withme. Because I want to walk into my parents’ house with my arm around you, introducing you as mine.”
Damn him. My eyes stung, and I blinked the tears away. “You’re such a romantic,” I teased.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I hauled mypartnerdown to my level, crushing his mouth to mine. “Not at all.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cole
“Doyou really think our parents will be okay with this?”
We’d been on the road for hours, and Peyton had been quiet for most of it, aside from asking for bathroom breaks. In order to make it to Louisville by dinnertime, we’d been up before the roosters, so I didn’t question their silence. They’d been periodically drawing on their tablet, setting it aside when they grew queasy.
We’d already stopped because of their stomach a few times—something Jesse often complained about, according to Peyton. They’dalwayshad the tendency to get carsick. We’d luckily made the long journey without any vomiting but as they set their tablet aside one last time, I braced myself—I didnotlike the color on their face.
Dressed in their usual alternative style, someone could easily miss the subtle signs of them fighting their regression—the way their thumb would gravitate toward their mouth, or the pacifier clipped to their shirt. Motion sickness combined with nerves had them hovering on the edge of Little space, and it wouldn’t take much for them to fall right into it.
They’d chosen makeup today, and the bright midday sunglittered off their kohl-rimmed eyes—a deep, festive green versus their usual black. A soft pink blush dusted their cheeks, but it was nowhere near as striking as their natural color.
“Why wouldn’t they be okay with it?” I asked, searching for somewhere to stop to settle their stomach.
“I don’t know,” Peyton mumbled, swallowing. They stared out the window, nail fixed between their teeth.
“Our families have been entwined for years, Peyton.” I reached over, hooking my finger around the pacifier clip and feeling down until I held their soother in my hand. With a quick glance, I offered it to them. Tinted windows made it easy to hide, but they still leaned into their hand anyway.
“I think my brain is just expecting the worst. Jesse already said that everyone’s asking questions.”
I dropped my hand to Peyton’s thigh. Their brother had gone home a few days ago and usually, Peyton would have ridden with him. I could imagine that him showing up alone would raise some eyebrows. “If that’s the case,” I said, “then there’s a big chance that they already know. Look how well Jesse took it.”
Peyton didn’t respond to that. They took a few deep breaths, clutching their abdomen, but it was in vain. “I’m about to be sick.”
Thankfully, I’d already pulled into a rest area. Peyton leapt out of the truck and vomited onto the pavement. I stood to their side, rubbing their back and making sure their hair stayed out of their face. “You were right,” they said between heaves. “Coffee was a bad idea.”
I chuckled. Ihadsaid that when we stopped for lunch, but I also wasn’t about to lose a finger taking it away from them—even I knew better. While they caught their breath, I grabbed the bag I’d prepared from the backseat. When Peyton straightened, emerald streaked down both cheeks. They made a lazy attempt at wiping the liner away, but it only smeared the kohl across their face. “I didn’t bring makeup remover,” they said bashfully.
“That’s okay; you’ve got a Daddy to worry about that stuff now.”
People stared as Peyton and I disappeared into the family restroom together, but their opinions didn’t matter much to me. As I suspected, getting sick had tipped Peyton over into Little space. The plan had been to go straight to their mom’s place for a late lunch before dinner with my parents but as I helped them get changed, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I gently wiped the makeup from their face and while they brushed their teeth, I called Jesse to say that I’d be taking them straight to bed.
“They’re going to think we’re having sex,” Peyton said, bending over to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste.
I leaned against the wall, waiting for them to finish. The rest area was quiet, so we’d taken our time. “They can think what they want. We’ll only look more guilty if we argue.”
They rinsed and packed their toothbrush away, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I stepped forward and brought them into my arms, kissing their hair. “Are you feeling better?”
Hesitantly, they nodded. “I just want to get the drive over with.”
We caught some glances as we left the restroom together, but I didn’t care. I guided Peyton back to the truck, helping them up and buckling their seat belt. Not that they needed it—they’d been jumping in and out of trucks since they could walk—but judging by the way they simply…submitted, they didn’t mind. As I moved to close the door, they snapped their hand down to mine to trap it there.
One thing I knew about Peyton? They wore their heart on their sleeve. If you paid close enough attention, they didn’t need to speak to be understood. And in that moment? They were petrified. They truly thought that something would go south the moment we walked into our parents’ homes.
I gave their hand a squeeze, stamping my lips to their cheek. “You have nothing to worry about, baby.”
