Page 76 of Axe-Rated Lumberjack

“Neither do I. And I’m not coming to ask you to explain yourself again. I was wrong about what happened, and I want to tell you that in person. If you’d rather I didn’t come, I’ll respect that.”

I waited while she considered it.

“Come over,” she said eventually. “I’m at the cottage.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there shortly.”

I ended the call, set my glass in the sink, and went to get dressed.

***

Peyton’s car was parked beside the cottage when I arrived.

Seeing it there reminded me of Saturday evening, when she’d followed me home with her overnight bag and spent the drive learning the route to my house.

I wished I hadn’t given her a reason to drive back alone this morning.

I parked my pickup and climbed the porch steps.

Peyton answered my knock wearing the clean clothes she’d brought for Sunday. Her dark hair was clipped neatly beside her cheek, and her glasses sat a little farther down her nose than usual.

She looked tired.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello.”

She stepped back to let me inside.

The cottage was warm, and the familiar scent of applewood lingered in the living room. Her recording equipment was down the hall, ready for the final session we’d planned to finish together.

Peyton led me into the kitchen. A mug of tea stood on the table beside a plate holding the remains of a sandwich.

At least she’d eaten something.

“Would you like some water?” she asked.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

She pulled out a chair, and I sat opposite her.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

I’d spent the drive deciding what I needed to say. Looking at her now, I wanted to get it right without turning it into a speech that sounded as though I’d borrowed somebody else’s words.

“Peyton, I accused you of helping Folio release that photograph because I knew you were excited about the new offer. I suggested you were willing to use me to get ahead, even after you told me you hadn’t done anything.”

She lowered her eyes briefly, then looked back at me.

“I remember.”

“I also brought up the recording you made on Thursday. You’d already admitted that was wrong, apologized, and made sure nothing like it happened again. I told you I believed you, and then I threw it in your face because I was angry.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table.

“You were telling me the truth, and I wouldn’t listen. I should’ve called Oliver as soon as I saw that screenshot. Instead, I decided you might be responsible without a damn bit of evidence. I hurt you, Peyton, and I’m sorry.”

She was quiet for a moment.