Free A Peyton Family Christmas by Moira Rogers Page B

in a whisper. “We haven’t had much of that.
Not since our parents died.”
    No,
they hadn’t. Nick slid her hand across the seat and squeezed
Kat’s. “Come on. Let’s go see what kind of trouble
your cousin’s gotten into in my absence.”
    Dashing
across the yard was miserable, a blast of cold so profound it made
Nick’s bones ache, but warmth greeted them when she slammed
open the front door. “Cookies,” she chattered. “I
smell cookies.”
    Kat
fumbled her mittens off and commenced a fight with the zipper on her
fluffy coat. “Sugar cookies. Derek is addicted to them.”
    â€œ 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.
    â€œ 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—”
    â€œ 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.”
    â€œ 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.”
    â€œ 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.