THE CORBIN BROTHERS: The Complete 5-Books Series by Lexie Ray

Author:Lexie Ray [Ray, Lexie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-09-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 5

We sat in the truck outside of the weathered trailer for a long time, Peyton studying it, inscrutable, a tiny wrinkle between her dark brows belying her doubts. It was smaller than my trailer, in dire need of repairs, and so battered looking that it was tough to imagine that the inside was even livable. But this was the spot Peyton had directed us to, isolated on a hill, the hot, dry wind making it seem like the trailer walls were so thin the entire thing swayed at every gust.

Who knew? Perhaps it did.

I opened my mouth and closed it for perhaps the fifth time since we’d been sitting there, the engine of the truck killed, silence ruling us except for the breeze that moaned against the windows. What was I supposed to say to make any of this easier? I’d always had a good relationship with my parents — easy communication, tons of support for whatever cause I decided to take up, and all the love in the world.

Until, of course, the wreck.

But to sit there in the quiet truck with Peyton, contemplating the home that was never hers, I felt as if some of her uncertainty leeched into me.

“We don’t have to do this,” I said, then lapsed again into silence, wondering if that had been the wrong thing to say. Peyton didn’t so much as glance at me when she answered.

“You don’t have to do anything. But this is something that I have to do.”

I wondered what this would cost us — not in a monetary sense, or anything a person could really measure. This was the first time that I could really perceive Peyton’s anxiety, and it was unnerving. Not even when we were stealing land, clients, and resources from her father did she even give off the slight whiff of nerves. What was it about that trailer — and its contents — that made her so uneasy?

“Do you know whether your mother is here?” I asked, if only to say something. The hush in the truck was starting to unnerve me.

“Of course she’s here,” Peyton said, distracted. “Where else would she be?”

Something about that statement propelled her to action — she threw open the door and seemed to hurl herself out to the unkempt grass, the longer strands of which waved in the wind. I followed almost helplessly, nervous because I didn’t know quite what we were doing here, why Peyton saw fit to pay a visit to a long-estranged relative, even if that relative was her mother.

Peyton sniffed out my trepidation almost instantly, stopping in her tracks so abruptly I bumped into her.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Maybe you should stay in the car,” she said, not looking at me.

“Hey, we’re partners in this,” I reasoned. “I’m here to get answers, same as you. I’d like to meet your mother. Maybe she’ll even like me.”

Peyton didn’t dignify that falsity with a response, but resolutely strode forward. It was probably a stupid thing to say. Nobody’s parents liked their significant others — or whatever Peyton and I happened to be.

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