“We’re going on a boat?” she questions as we exit the car and head towards the dock.
“Sure looks like it.”
“With a cat?”
I merely raise my eyebrows at her stating the obvious.
The conversation in the car ride here involved a lot of talk about what we do and don’t like. She was surprised to discover that I like to sail, and I’m very much looking forward to sharing my love of the water with her. Three days of uninterrupted alone time with Peyton is exactly what we both need. She needs to take this next step with me — I need her to wantusas much as I do.
“You’re going to sail this on your own? Because I can tell you now, I won’t be any help at all.”
“To start with, yes, but I’ll teach you as we go. You’ll be a pro by the time we leave on Thursday evening.” She eyes me sceptically, but she will be, she can do anything she puts her mind to. And ‘The Rebecca’ is an absolute beauty, she’s a fifty-foot navy blue vessel of pure grace, much like my Rebecca was. Beautiful, graceful, kind — there’s not aday goes by that I don’t miss her, don’t wish I could have saved her. She was everything I’m not. It should have been her that lived, not me.
“Why the Rebecca?” Peyton’s giving me the side-eye; my little brat is jealous. I can’t help the smile that splits my face.
“Rebecca was my little sister.” She takes a moment to process the words. Her mind no doubt stuck on the ‘was’ of my statement.
“What happened?” She doesn’t beat around the bush, it’s one of the things that draws me to her; she’s direct, to the point. She’s acknowledged the fact I’ve referred to Rebecca in the past tense and she wants to know why. She knows I must be comfortable enough to talk about it with her or I wouldn’t have mentioned my sister; I would have dismissed the conversation.
“She was killed ten years ago.” Peyton stays silent, her Caribbean-blue eyes fixated on me, waiting for me to elaborate, to give the full story. “She was taken from a nightclub while on a night out with her friends. It turns out her drink was spiked, they’d targeted her the minute she walked through the doors of that club. There wasn’t a thing she could have done — the bartender helped them — she didn’t stand a chance.” Her hand reaches for mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze; we’ve found ourselves at the seating area on the deck of the boat, our bag abandoned at our feet.
“Within the hour they had her out of there and at a secure location. She was drugged and trafficked before we even knew she was missing.” A small whimper leaves her lips, but aside from her hand on mine, she shows no other signs that she’s heard me. “Her body was found a few months later. No matter what we did, what we offered, who we threatened; we couldn’t find her, couldn’t save her. We weren’t enough for her.”
“No,” she whispers, her voice raw, “that’s not on you. What happened to her, what happened to Rebecca, is not on you. That’s onthem; it’s on the monsters who took her. You did everything you could, Bennett. Knowing you, you did more than most could have, would have done. But you were not responsible for what happened to her, and there is no way she would ever want you to blame yourself.” Her hand squeezes mine tighter.
“I didn’t know her, or have the chance to ever meet her, but if she’s anything like her brother, she would be seriously pissed off at you for ever harboring any guilt over what happened.”
I know she’s right, I’ve had enough dreams where Rebecca has come to me and read me the riot act over the way I blame myself and the way I shut myself off after her death. And until Peyton, I didn’t try to do anything about the way I feel, I didn’t try to connect with anyone, to have a life. I can’t help but think Rebecca sent me her, that she’s looking down and screaming at me to take this woman, to live the life I should, the one that she no longer can.
So that’s exactly what I plan on doing.
Chapter Eleven
Peyton
That was intense and explains a lot. The way he is, his overprotective possessive side. I don’t have siblings, but if I did and I lost them that way, I imagine it would change me. He lost his little sister, a sister eight years younger than him, someone who no doubt looked up to him, admired him, loved him. I’m not sure you ever fully recover from something like that.
I’m in the bedroom of the yacht — I’m sure it’s not actually called a bedroom, but I don’t know the correct name — messaging Harry and unpacking the meagre belongings Bennett brought along for me. I have a feeling he plans on me being naked a lot these next few days; the few items of clothing he’s packed is certainly hinting at that. D’Artagnanis sitting on the bed watching me in-between cleaning himself, completely unfazed by the fact he’s on a floating device surrounded by water.
Bennett is preparing us a light snack before bed, it’s late already and I’m exhausted from my shift, plus my body is still trying to recover from the way Bennett uses it. I have a feeling he’ll be using it again tonight, not that I’m complaining, that man uses me like no one has before.
He sails, too. Darling girl, I am swooning over this man
I think he could pick his nose and you’d find it hot
Facts
Remember he came home covered in blood
Concerning but not a deal breaker
I give up
I’m just putting the last item away when Bennett walks through the doorway. I have to say for a boat, the bedroom is decidedly spacious, and everything in here is incredibly luxurious.
“I put together some cheese and biscuits for us.” He has a little tray of food and two glasses of a deep red wine.
“Sounds perfect.” He lays the tray on the bed and takes a seat, patting the space next to him. I climb on and join him.
