Peyton’s eyes bored holes through the door. “I’m not even sure what to make of her anymore.”
“Why make anything?” Trace sat in the chair Bea had evacuated and crossed one boot over his knee. “Bea is who Bea is. She’s not an idiot, much as she would like some people to believe. She likes being underestimated.”
Peyton pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever. It worked. But don’t do it again. We can’t let the Bimbo Sister act define us.”
“Point made.” He waited a beat, and then grinned. “It was pretty ingenious though.”
Peyton’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “It wasn’t bad.”
“She’s trying.”
“Yeah.” Peyton’s eyes turned to the door again. “For how long? It’s been months. I thought she’d be ready to escape by now. She knows she can. Why is she still here?”
Trace laced his fingers over his stomach. “Have you asked her that?”
Peyton scowled and turned to her computer. “You’ve got your own problems. Go figure out how to fix things.”
“Does everyone know about me and Jo?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.
“I do now,” she said, a smug smile creeping over her face.
“Damn it.” This stupid town.
Peyton’s smile slipped a little. “You used to tell me everything.”
“We were kids back then. The stakes were lower.”
“And then,” she went on as if he hadn’t said anything, “you disappeared. You were my best friend, and then you were gone.”
“Jesus, P.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I was nineteen. I needed to get out and do my own thing.”
“But you barely even said good-bye. Just packed up and left.” She rolled her lips in a little, then went on. “I was left running this place. Me, by myself, battling that woman every step of the way. Knowing for everything I did right, she’d blow in and do three things wrong just to spite me. I think she enjoyed watching Dad’s work crumble.”
He shut his eyes.
“I felt like you abandoned me. Left me alone to deal with her.”
“Peyton.”
“Had you planned to go? I need to know that. Had you been planning to leave, and you just didn’t share it?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me. It won’t change things, but I need to know.”
Trace settled back and stared at the ceiling. How much to tell her? What to leave out? “Mom made my life hell.”
“Mom was hell, period.” Peyton snorted. “Sylvia was a piece of work.”
“The last weekend before I left, you were away with the 4-H group. The weekend trip. Bea was sleeping at some friend’s house. And I was alone with her. She had one of her wino friends over for a weekend bender. I think she forgot I even lived here half the time, since I was gone so often.”
“Working at the feed store,” his sister murmured.
“The money was nice. Being away from her was better.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t think Monroe’s ever had someone who liked coming in to work overtime as much as I did.
“But I was off for the weekend and he didn’t need me to come in. So I holed up in my room and prayed she’d forget I was there. She might have, but her friend didn’t.” He closed his eyes, then opened them again, praying the images didn’t come back while he talked. “That woman—I couldn’t tell you her name even if I gave a damn—crept into my room and fell on me. I thought she’d gotten the wrong room at first. God knew she smelled like she was half-drowned in a vat of wine. So I meant to push her off and lead her to the guest bed. But then she started groping.”
Peyton winced but didn’t look away.
“I rolled out from under her, heard her calling me to come back. When I hit the hallway, I heard Sylvia snickering in the family room. She knew what was going on and just sat back to watch.”
“Jesus,” Peyton moaned and let her head fall into her arms on the desk.
“Yeah, He wasn’t gonna help me, either,” Trace said dryly. “When I asked what the hell her problem was, she just kept laughing and saying she thought I’d like it. A nice eighteenth birthday present, a little early.”
“And you were already nineteen.” Peyton’s voice was muffled through her arms. “She never was good about keeping up with birthdays.”
“I’m fine with that. I’d have rather she forgot my existence. After that, I knew I couldn’t stay. Any woman who would sit back and watch her own son get molested in his sleep was evil. But what could I tell you to explain why I was going?”