Moira Rogers: A Peyton Family Christmas

Kat fumbled her mittens off and commenced a fight with the zipper on her fluffy coat. “Sugar cookies. Derek is addicted to them.”

“But he never burns them.” An acrid edge still lingered in the air, proof enough that whoever had been doing the baking had scorched at least one batch. “Did I miss dinner?” she called as she unzipped her own coat.

“Nick?” Derek‟s voice reached them before the sound of his footsteps. “I was just showing Michelle how to...” The words trailed off, and his footsteps quickened.

Next to her, Kat shifted nervously. “He can probably tell I‟m—”

“Kat.” Derek rounded the corner from the hallway and swept his wide-eyed cousin up into a hug that left her snow-covered boots dangling three inches off the ground. After a second, her arms went around his neck, and Nick heard the way her breath hitched when Derek murmured, “I missed you, kiddo.”

The grateful look he shot her over Kat‟s shoulder was nothing compared to the happiness that was already melting through his shock, and it was entirely worth admitting what she‟d done. “I stole the jet.”

Kat had been there for four hours, and she already had Michelle‟s laptop in pieces.

Derek leaned against the door frame, half watching as Kat pointed to various parts of the computer and described their function to Michelle. Nick‟s sister was either honestly interested or faking it so well Derek couldn‟t tell the difference. Either way, it was a scene just shy of surreal.

Derek ducked back into the kitchen and accepted a mug of coffee from Luciano. “Better keep an eye on her. She‟ll be rewiring your security system next.”

“With all the protective spells Mahalia‟s been busy laying, the thing‟s dead weight now anyway.” Luciano closed the last cookie tin and grinned. “Are you feeling the Christmas spirit now?”

Clearly he hadn‟t been as subtle as he‟d thought. “I haven‟t had a Christmas without her in...God only knows, man. Before our parents died. Her dad and my mom were both serious about the holidays.”

“You should have said something. Then again, I guess you didn‟t have to, after all.”

No, he hadn‟t. He‟d called Kat once or twice to invite her up for the holidays—careful conversations where he‟d gritted his teeth against the urge to push her. Kat had been through hell, and he could see the chasm behind her, waiting to swallow her whole. Such a delicate balance, trying to assure he was there without making her feel trapped.

Nick must have seen how much those calls took out of him. How exhausted he would be after hanging up the phone, how worried. “I don‟t know how she managed it,” Derek admitted, sliding onto a stool set at the counter. “Nick, I mean. Maybe Kat just needed an invitation from someone who wasn‟t me.”

Luciano arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn‟t put it past your little fiancée to drag her onto the plane. Literally.”

A few months ago, he might have laughed. But the last people to try to drag Kat anywhere had ended up worse than dead. Empathy, it turned out, could do some fucking scary things when fueled by a powerful gift—or powerful fear.

Derek shook off the momentary moment of bleakness and reminded himself that Kat was here, safe, and clearly willingly enough. “Maybe it‟s the simple fact that Nicky Peyton doesn‟t take „no‟ for an answer. From anyone.”

“No. No, she doesn‟t.” Luciano sighed. “To be honest, I hope Michelle‟s like that under all the crap the Conclave heaped on her for so long.”

“She is.” In that fact, Derek had absolute confidence. “It‟ll take time, though. Her life before... I can‟t even imagine what she went through.”

“You don‟t want to. I wish I didn‟t know.”

The Conclave had feared her. Derek knew all too well what it was like to fight every day against the disdain of the ruling elite. “For better or worse, we‟re all out of it now. No politics here. No Conclave. Family.”

“Damn straight.” Luciano crossed the room and opened the pantry. “Want a little kick in your coffee? Gus stocks liqueurs sometimes.”

“Lay it on me.” Derek set down his mug and reached for a cookie tin. A few at the top were crisp around the edges, and remembering Michelle‟s cute little frown of frustration made him smile. She looked nothing like her sister most of the time, but Nick sometimes glared at things in the exact same way, with her eyebrows pulled together and her lips pursed.

Of course, Nick usually followed such an expression with curses foul enough to make a grown man flinch. Michelle had actually uttered the word drat . Derek had assured her that he‟d eat the burned cookies, so he picked up three of them now. “Is anyone going in to town tomorrow? Kat‟s going to fret until I take her to buy some last minute gifts for everyone.”

“Take my SUV.” Luciano had barely driven it since having it delivered, but he‟d insisted that an old pickup truck with a bench seat and questionable suspension wasn‟t appropriate anymore. Not with a baby on the way.

One of a dozen little ways he‟d changed life at his ranch, so carefully and quietly that perhaps Michelle didn‟t even notice. Derek supposed that was the point—Luciano‟s way of taking care of the wife who was wife in name only, and still weighed down by grief.

He swallowed a mouthful of slightly singed cookie and nodded. “Thanks.

After Christmas, I think Nick and I are going to buy a car of our own. Since you‟re pretty well stuck with us for the foreseeable future.”

Luciano laughed. “Nick mentioned bringing her car up from Louisiana, but then started talking about getting a Land Rover instead.”

“Car, Land Rover... Whatever works.” His next bite of cookie was particularly burned, and he made a face as he rose. “I‟m going to run over to the guest house and check on Nick. If Kat comes looking for me, send her over, would you?”

“Want me to have her call first?” Luciano asked with mock innocence.

Derek made a rude gesture, then slipped out the back door and braved the quick run to the guest house in his sweater, his shoulders hunched against the wind. It wasn‟t far, at least, and the lights glowing from the windows pooled across fresh snow that had fallen that morning.

He was shivering by the time he slipped through the front door. “Nick, you over here still?”

“I‟m here.” She appeared in the kitchen archway, a bowl in one hand.

“Want some soup?”

“Just ate half a dozen cookies.” Three long strides took him across the room, where he bent down to kiss her forehead. “You are amazing. Do I tell you that enough?”

She dropped the bowl—which, thankfully, was empty—and slid her arms around him. “I don‟t know. How often is enough?”

“Every day, at least.” Straightening his body pulled her off the ground, but she was used to tangling her legs around his hips, and shapeshifter strength had its advantages. “How‟d you do it? How‟d you get her on the plane?”

“Told her she didn‟t have to put on a happy face or anything, but you missed her. And it‟s Christmas .”

“How was she—” He bit his tongue, told himself not to pry. Failed. “Was she okay, when you showed up? I mean, is she putting on a happy face?”

Nick bit her lip and tilted her head. “Yeah, I think so. But it hasn‟t been very long, Derek. She needs time, and we can‟t begrudge her that. Or push her.”

Kat had killed to protect the man she loved. Derek had killed to protect Nick and her family, but he‟d won, and had the woman who made the fight worth it. Kat had nothing to show for what she‟d done but heartache and a man who couldn‟t bring himself to see her. If he‟d fought a challenge and had lost Nick anyway...