Echo: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone Read online

She’d only made it to the third bedroom when Cecelia’s shrill soprano rang out from behind her. “I see you finally decided to arrive, Peyton.”

  Peyton took a breath before she turned around to face the older woman, reminding herself how much this job paid. “Hi, Cecelia. Yes, I was a few minutes late, but I’m already working, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Need I remind you how many people are willing to take your place if you cannot take this job seriously?”

  Peyton could barely resist the urge to roll her eyes. “No. No need to remind me of anything. I will make sure to work all the hours you are paying me for and make sure your house is as clean as possible.”

  “Yes, well, you’ll need to hurry. I have guests coming around five o’clock today, and you’ll have to be gone by then.”

  “Sure, that’s no problem.”

  “Well, then…” Cecelia flicked her wrist toward the bedroom, and turned sharply to leave.

  Peyton didn’t stick her tongue out at the other woman. That was pretty much the most that could be expected of her.

  The hours slid by quickly as she went from room to room, first dusting, then vacuuming. She ignored the way her stomach tightened as she came to Cade’s old room. She just did what she had done every week: straightened her shoulders and trudged on.

  Hell, she’d done that ever since she’d watched that airplane leave without her five years ago.

  Eventually, she worked her way through the bedrooms and baths upstairs and headed downstairs. She made her way through the formal sitting room and dining room and into the kitchen. It had its own staff, so it didn’t need much.

  Working out the kinks in her back, she walked into the far back den. This was the last room. Her favorite room. The only room that had escaped Cecelia’s uber-formal decorating tastes.

  The room Cade had hung out in with his dad to watch sports. The only room in the house Peyton had ever been in before she’d started cleaning. Instead of formal, the furniture in here was relaxed, homey, with overstuffed chairs and a comfortable couch facing the fireplace. There was a large flat-screen TV that took up nearly one whole wall.

  Cade had brought her here because he’d said he wanted to be the first person to screen a Peyton Ward original movie—in this case, the peaches project she’d finished her freshman year.

  Her heart had been in her throat the entire time, both from watching her hard work come to life on a relatively large screen and because Cade had been the one to watch it with her.

  She loved this room. It held such a good memory. One that remained despite everything else.

  She plopped down on the couch. She’d worked at Fancy Pants for hours this morning and then had come straight here. Cecelia never set foot in this room, so it was probably safe to take five minutes.

  She melted into the leather sofa, stretching her legs in front of her. She wanted to sit for a second and rest. Not think about anything

  She laid her head back and closed her eyes. Just a five minu—

  “Peyton?”

  Her eyes flew open–this was not Cecelia’s nail-scratching-chalkboard soprano coming from behind her. It was a deep, masculine voice.

  One she hadn’t heard in more than five years.

  “Cade?” She shot off the couch and turned.

  He was here. Peyton’s eyes ran over him, taking in the changes since she’d last seen him at the cabin. She’d seen him on television and in music videos, of course. No one could live in this area and escape talk of the Cade Conner.

  She’d learned how to harden herself against seeing him on the screen. Distancing herself.

  But in person, all those carefully-built defenses collapsed.

  He took a step forward into the room, and she took a step back. She blinked a couple of times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  Those blue eyes—oh God, those blue eyes that were so unbelievably familiar—narrowed in confusion. “Are you here to see me? Did you know I was coming?”

  Was she here to see him?

  Like she was going to show up now and casually wait for him on his couch?

  She shook her head wildly. “Uh, no. No, I didn’t know you were coming home today.” As he circled the couch toward her, she moved in the opposite direction, keeping her distance.

  His eyes narrowed further. “Okay. Are you here to see Cecelia?”

  “Um, something like that.” She glanced down at the dusting rag in her hands, and quickly hid it behind her back.

  “Okay. Do you want me to get her?”

  Peyton swallowed a bark of hysterical laughter. “No! No, I mean, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

  He eyed her now as if she was some crazed animal who needed calming. They continued circling the couch: Cade approaching, Peyton retreating.

  “Do you want to sit back down? I’m getting a little dizzy.”

  Did she want to sit down? And what, talk about old times?

  She could feel the walls starting to close in around her. Her own breath sounded loud in her ears. She had to get out of there while she still could. She started backing toward the door.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go,” she mumbled.

  She was going to throw up all over the place.

  And the only thing she could think was that Cecelia would make her clean it up and Cade…would watch.

  As she cleaned vomit.

  In his house.

  “Peaches?”

  Oh no.

  Oh no, no, no, no, no!

  He took a step closer, hand outstretched.

  “No! Don’t touch me!” The words were way too loud, way too emphatic.

  But if he touched her now, she would crumble. Forget cleaning vomit. Someone would have to clean her off the floor.

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I have to go.” The last part came out as a sob. She turned and ran from the room.

  In the hallway, she briefly remembered that her cleaning supplies were still in the back hallway. She didn’t care.

  Escape was the only thing that mattered.

  Chapter 6

  From her bed, Peyton heard the pattering of little feet and knew that there were only moments of peace left. She looked over at her clock—six thirty, not too bad, even though it was Saturday—then closed her eyes again as she heard her bedroom door creak open.

  “Mommy!” The sweetest voice in the world. When Jess wanted to be. “Mommy, wake up!”

  Peyton would never tire of hearing her daughter’s rambunctious, loud voice. The child had absolutely no concept of quiet. Only loud and louder.

  And laughing. The kid loved to flat-out belly laugh. You couldn’t be around her for long without being caught up in it.

  There’d been a while at first, when Jess’s cries had been so pitiful and soft—when they’d come at all. Watching her as a premature infant struggle to breathe, struggle to live… Peyton would never get tired of hearing her now—even if it was at ear-bleeding volumes.

  Peyton rolled toward Jess but didn’t open her eyes. She let out a big snore. Jess giggled—loudly.

  This was their morning routine, and it was Peyton’s favorite part of the day. It wouldn’t be long before Jess outgrew it.

  “Mommy! Wake up lazy bones!” More giggling.

  Peyton moaned like she was about to wake up but then snored again, even louder. Jess’s laugh rang out, and she started poking Peyton on the shoulder.

  “Lazy bones. Lazy bones. Wake up!”

  Peyton kept her eyes closed as she scooted closer to the edge of the bed where Jess stood. She puckered her lips for a kiss. Jess kissed her sweetly, and Peyton’s eyes opened.

  “Morning, Mommy.” Her face was right up next to Peyton’s. All Peyton could see were bright blue eyes.

  The same eyes she’d seen last night.

  Peyton wrapped Jess in her arms and swung her up into the bed.

  “Morning to you, baby girl.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Mom. Not a baby. I’m already in school, remember?”

  “I know, kid. I’m pretty sure you’ll be starting high school next week.”

  “Nah.” Jess grinned at her. “Got to become empress of the elementary school first.”

  Empress of the elementary school? Where did she come up with this stuff? All Peyton could do was stare at her clever daughter and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

  To be honest, there had been times she’d second-guessed her decision to raise Jess by herself. But she had no doubt that Jess was the single greatest thing that had ever happened—or ever would happen—to Peyton.

  And if Cade didn’t want her—or Peyton—then he could shove his guitar right up his…

  “Let’s go have pancakes!” Jess wiggled free and slid down the side of the bed. “Aunt Riley’s here.”

  Peyton sighed. She had hoped for a few more minutes of snuggling. And honestly, a few more minutes of not having to face the real world and the literal and figurative mess she’d left yesterday.

  But she got up and dressed in her normal housecleaning attire of khakis and a T-shirt. The last thing she wanted to do was go over to the O’Conner estate, even to pick up the supplies she’d left there. Cecelia probably already had a lecture planned out.

  And the thought of seeing Cade again…

  Peyton would rather just stay in bed for the rest of her life.

  It had caught her so off guard. When she’d first started working there, she’d been terrified Cade might show up. But he never had.

  And then yesterday he’d had the nerve to ask if she wanted to sit down and talk? After everything that had happened between them?

  Peyton had never been someone to get angry. She’d always been quiet—had learned from an early age that keeping her head down and her opinions to herself was the least painful way to survive. She’d learned how to express herself in a different way. Through film.

  For as much good as that had done her. Once London had been taken away, there hadn’t been many choices for a film career for someone with a great aesthetic eye but without training or contacts in the business. Especially not in the heart of Wyoming.

  She glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. No, she didn’t have a career in the field she’d planned. She didn’t really have a career at all.

  But she had a fantastic daughter—one who at not quite five years old wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Who never lived in fear. Who was happy and healthy and loved. That was the biggest win, and more important than any job or career.

  And hell, maybe Peyton would just get a late start. Go to film school in her thirties or forties.

  So what if that seemed far away and ate a little at her soul each day?

  Damn it, she wasn’t pathetic.

  She turned away from her reflection and headed out to the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to find eight-year-old Ethan Bollinger at the stove next to Jess. That kid was here more often than he wasn’t, not that Peyton minded. He had saved Jess’s life four months ago, or they’d saved each other’s lives, or something.

  All Peyton knew for sure was that they’d been trapped out in the woods with a killer. Ethan had ended up with a compound leg fracture protecting Jess. But at least they’d come back alive.

  So yeah, Ethan could come around whenever he wanted. Not that Jess would allow it to be any other way. Not with her Ethan.

  Peyton walked to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. “Ethan, has your new brother made it into the world yet?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, grinning, looking so much like his dad, Finn, and uncle, Baby, she couldn’t help but smile herself. “Nope. Charlie says he wants to make the most dramatic entrance possible—just like Dad did when he saved her that one time.”

  Peyton was glad Ethan could smile about it. Then again, he’d been sheltered from the worst of what had happened to Charlie. Finn had indeed made a dramatic entrance to save her.

  And now they were married and Charlie was about to give birth any day now.

  “Charlie also says that if anyone mentions a whale anywhere around her, she can’t be held responsible for her actions.” Ethan turned back to the stovetop.

  “Or hippo,” Jess chimed in. “Uncle Finn said, ‘What about hippos?’ and Aunt Charlie threw a frying pan at him.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Then Dad was stupid enough to say, ‘I didn’t even know you knew how to use a frying pan.’ Then he ran.”

  Jess and Ethan looked at each other and laughed—that big belly laugh Peyton loved so much. She was glad they found it funnier than Charlie obviously didn’t.

  “Stay out of the line of fire, you two.” Peyton sat down at the table next to Riley Wilde. Her friend was still in her nursing scrubs. “Aren’t you supposed to be supervising the pancake-making?”

  Riley looked up from whatever she was checking on her phone and grinned. “Why? We both know those two can out-cook us any day. We went over basic stove top safety, and I told them that just because I was still in uniform didn’t mean I wanted to perform any medical care.”

  Peyton looked over at the kids. They were having a good time. “Thanks for coming by and pretending to supervise.”

  “Speaking of medical care, I didn’t almost kill myself on your cleaning stuff trying to get through the mud room.”

  “Yeah, I left it at a client’s. I have to swing back by there today.” Peyton took a long sip of her coffee, hoping Riley would take the statement at face value.

  Riley got up to grab the first round of pancakes, and Peyton thought she might be safe.

  No such luck. Riley slid a plate in front of Peyton as she sat back down then poured enough syrup on her own pancakes to put herself into a diabetic coma. “You left your stuff over at Linear?”

  “No. The O’Conner house.”

  Riley’s eyebrow raised over her fork. “You wanted a little extra time with Cecelia O’Conner today? Didn’t get enough of that fun sauce yesterday?”

  Peyton concentrated on cutting her pancake into a perfect square with her fork. “I, uh, got flustered and ran out.”

  Riley slammed her fork down. “God dam—” She cut herself off when both children spun around to catch the bad word. “I mean, gosh dang it.” Her volume dropped to a whisper. “Did Cecelia say something to upset you? We can go over there together right now and give her a piece of our mind.”

  “Cecelia wasn’t the problem.”

  Riley rolled her eyes. “Cecelia is always the problem. I know she pays you well, but she has no right to say anything about anything. Especially not now, years later. What did she do?”

  Peyton cut another piece of pancake with deliberate care. “Honestly, it wasn’t anything Cecelia did.”

  She finally glanced up from her plate. “Cade showed up.”

  Riley stared at her hard for a moment, then pushed her plate away and stood, walking to the kids. “You guys have enough pancakes? Time to turn off the stove. Your mom and I need to go outside and talk.”

  “Okay,” Jess said. “We have six for both of us, so that might be enough.”

  Riley got the kids settled at the table, then grabbed Peyton’s hand and pulled her out back onto the tiny patio, closing the door with a resounding thump.

  “Are you okay?”

  Riley was the only person Peyton had ever told the whole story about Cade and Jess. And she shouldn’t have—legally—done that.

  “I—I could’ve handled it better. I wasn’t expecting to see him.”

  “Did you stab him in the eye with the nearest sharp object?”

  Peyton let out an exasperated breath. “No, I refrained.”

  “Then I think you handled the situation just fine.”

  “The man was just visiting his childhood home. It hardly called for violence.”

  Riley crossed her arms over her chest. “You forget that I was at the hospital, Peyton, both times. I was there when we almost lost you, and I was there when we almost lost that little mini-you in there.”

  Riley had been one of Peyton’s nurses, then had become a close friend. Peyton walked over and grabbed her shoulders. “I know you were. You were there when nobody else was. When I was invisible to everybody else. You’ve looked out for Jess and me, and you know I love you to death.”

  Riley unfolded her arms and pulled Peyton in for a hug. “What Cade did to you was wrong. He may not have put you in the hospital, but he should’ve been there to help out. Maybe not with the Dennis incident, but at least for when you had Jess.”

  “I signed the—”

  “I don’t care what you signed. The O’Conner family was one of the richest in the state before Cade went off and made millions in Nashville. Fucking hell, he should’ve at least paid for the hospital bills even if he was dick enough to knock you up and then refuse to have anything to do with you.”

  “What happened with Dennis wasn’t Cade’s responsibility.”

  And neither was Jess once Peyton had signed the paperwork Cade had sent her when she’d notified him she was pregnant. An agreement to terminate the pregnancy and sign a nondisclosure agreement never to talk about anything that had happened with Cade.

  In exchange, Peyton had gotten a check for ten thousand dollars and his word not to drag her into a nasty court battle.

  She’d needed the money, so she’d taken the check. But she hadn’t terminated the pregnancy as agreed.

  She didn’t know exactly where that left her legally, but she wasn’t going to risk anything by demanding child support now.

  Peyton hugged Riley tightly then stepped back. “This is an old argument. And it doesn’t change the facts.”

  Peyton could see her friend visibly swallow her words. She wanted Peyton to go before a judge, require a paternity test, and force Cade to take responsibility for Jess.

  Peyton wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to drag her daughter’s very existence through the mud for everyone to see and gossip about. Jess was too smart, too sensitive not to be affected.

  Jess was hers. That was enough.

  Riley sighed. “Okay. We won’t talk about it today. But are you alright? Obviously, if you ran out without your stuff, you were pretty shook. What did you and Cade say to each other?”