Page 92 of One More Kiss

“You got a job? Here?” I said incredulously as I read further. Her start date was in less than two weeks. “You’re a teacher at the school?”

“Yup.”

I read the letter again. “This is dated last month.”

“Yup.”

“Peyton!”

“Ethan?”

“Can you use your words?” I asked her in exasperation.

She turned to me with one eyebrow cocked. “Should I use crayons and draw you a picture?”

Her cocky grin made me burst out laughing. “Fuck me, you’re exactly the same cheeky little brat you always were.”

Peyton straightened as she looked up at me. “I was never changing who I was or what I wanted.” She gestured to the letter. “I knew I needed experience, and I knew I had to teach elsewhere. The principal now was my principal, and that battle-ax hated me when I was seven. I knew I needed to wait her out. Their teacher turnover is hardly anything; it’s either retirement or death before a job opportunity opens up. Lucky for me, retirement for her happened four months ago.”

“You were really coming back?” I asked again as I looked between her and the letter.

“I was.” She looked around the house. “I was coming back to this, to my home. So no, I can’t rent it to you, because I plan to live here.”

“And Donna?”

Peyton scratched her nose as she sniffed, fighting back tears. “It was a surprise. I wanted to surprise her. I’m older, maybe not wiser.” She gave a derisive snort. “But I know I was never her life, but she changed that for me. I may not have spoken to her often, but I sent emails. I was trying.” Peyton wiped hurriedly at her eyes. “We were making progress. But you know Donna, always had to have the upper hand when it came to dramatic effect.”

“Oh, Peyton, I’m sorry,” I said as I realised the sudden passing of her aunt had thrown her and realised how much it affected her. “She asked me not to tell you.”

“And you always did what Donna wanted,” Peyton replied, her words tinged with bitterness.

“Not always.”

She threw me a rueful look, and it was me who looked away first. “I didn’t know,” I offered as I held the letter up. “If you’d told me, I could have…”

“Spoken to me?” Peyton asked dryly. “Communicated with me? Explained what the hell happened to us?”

“I can tell you that now,” I said with sourness. “Pride? Stubbornness? Insecurity? A man believing that he was doing the right thing by letting you go to be happy?”

“A scared boy who resented me for my choices?” Peyton threw back at me as she moved past me to walk away, but my hand on her arm stopped her, and she looked up at me angrily.

“A man who thought if I didn’t let you go, you’d end up resenting me and leaving anyway,” I told her honestly.

“Ethan, I—”

I kissed her rather than hear what she had to say. It had been twenty-four hours, and I was thirsty for the taste of her. To my relief, she kissed me back, curling into me as she always had. Fitting into my arms perfectly, like she was made for me. Only for me. My hand cupped her ass, and I heard her small moan. Moving my lips along her jaw, I felt her hands tug in my hair, pulling me down closer.

“Peyton, it’s probably not the right time, because we have a lot to talk about…but I really need you naked,” I said as I kissed along her neck.

“We do need to talk,” she agreed as her fingers worked their way under my shirt.

“But we can talk later?” I suggested as I unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down past her hips.

“Later,” she agreed readily. “After all, I’m not going anywhere.”

Lifting her into my arms, I carried her to the stairs. “Never again,” I told her between kisses.

“Never again,” she promised.

---