Bad Reputation Page 15

  “You’re amazing,” Connor whispered at some point. Her eyes were closed by then, her body lulled into sleepy content. But she remembered smiling and kissing his neck as he turned to press his lips to the top of her head. It was a simple gesture – almost nothing compared to the heights he’d just brought her – but it was so incredibly sweet, and the most unbelievable feeling. Before she drifted off into slumber, Peyton remembered thinking one thing.

  I never want to let this go.

  19

  In the morning, Peyton awoke alone. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she stared across her pillow at Connor’s empty side of the bed.

  For just a moment, she let herself freak out.

  He’s done with you. He got what he wanted, and now he’s gone.

  She was proud to say that voice lasted for all of two seconds before she breathed in, breathed out then heard the sound of pots and pans clinking downstairs. A smile crept onto her lips as she rolled out of bed, running a hand through her messy hair and letting her feet carry her excitedly down the stairs.

  In the kitchen, she found a shirtless, freshly showered Connor making breakfast.

  Good lord.

  For a moment, she hung in the doorframe, quiet as she soaked in the view. His dark blonde hair was wet and slicked back, and his shorts were hanging low on his hips to give her that view of his gorgeous, deep-carved hipbones.

  My God, Peyton. Did you really have sex with that last night? She had to pause and ask herself the question. And is he really making you bacon, eggs and pancakes this morning?

  “Good morning,” Peyton finally grinned as she headed over toward Connor. He smiled before even looking up, but upon feasting his eyes on Peyton, he froze.

  “Fucking hell. You can’t do that,” he murmured, unblinking as his eyes trailed up her naked body. “Peyton,” he laughed as she went to him and rose to her tippy toes for a kiss. “You can’t have breakfast without clothes on,” he said, setting his spatula aside to wrap both arms around her waist. “Not unless you want me to fuck you over the sink before you eat.”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed,” Peyton grinned, her arms snaked around his neck as she licked his lower lip. And for the next few minutes, they kissed in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by nothing by the sounds of chirping birds and sizzling bacon. Peyton felt like she was in some kind of fantasyland. She didn’t even mind when a particularly loud crackle of bacon snapped to remind them that the stove was still on. “I’m going, I’m going!” Peyton giggled as she broke away from Connor to get a shirt from upstairs.

  By the time she returned to the kitchen, Connor was setting up breakfast outside on the deck.

  “Ooh la la,” she murmured to herself when she saw the pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice sitting next to champagne flutes. “Mimosas?” she smiled, sticking her head out the door that led to the deck.

  “Yes, but I forgot to chill the champagne,” he said. “Got a little distracted before,” he laughed. “I wonder why.”

  “Sorry! Kind of. Where can I find the champagne? I’ll go put it in the fridge.”

  Once Connor gave her the instructions, Peyton skipped off to the garage. Inside, her eyebrows lifted at the sight of a sleek black motorcycle with subtle accents of red. God, just a mental picture of Connor riding that bike had her ready to march outside and tear his clothes off. But all it took was a glance at the shelf above the bike for her to promptly stop thinking about sex. What the fuck? Peyton snorted as she floated closer to the shelf to get a better look. Why… the heck does he have that?

  Back on the deck, she couldn’t help wearing a bit of a quirky smile. Connor laughed, looking wary as she approached.

  “What’s that face?” he asked slowly as he pulled out her chair. She kissed his cheek in thanks before taking a seat.

  “Why do you have a giant picnic basket full of yarn and knitting needles? And glue sticks and empty scrapbooks? Are you secretly a seventy-year-old woman?”

  Connor grimaced as he took the seat across her. “Would that be a dealbreaker?”

  Peyton burst out laughing. “Seriously. Whose stuff is that?”

  Connor’s smile faded lightly as he took a drink from his coffee. Leaning back in his chair, he took his time to answer the question.

  “It belongs to my mom.”

  “Should’ve guessed,” Peyton said, though her own smile faltered as she watched Connor’s expression darken. “Oh.” Shit. Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Is she…?”

  “Still alive. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh,” Peyton exhaled. “Then why do you look so… sad?” She couldn’t think of a better word.

  “I don’t mean to,” Connor said, as if that were the answer she were looking for. He busied himself with eating for a few seconds but when he saw that Peyton was still waiting for an answer, he smirked. “What?”

  “I don’t know. I want you to talk to me,” she replied honestly.

  “Is that right.”

  “Yes.” Peyton was oddly dauntless as she put her fork down and hugged a knee to her chest. “You know all about me, Connor Schaffer. I think it’s fair if I get to know even a couple things about you.” She cocked an eyebrow when he persisted with silence, refusing to back down.

  Connor laughed. It wouldn’t work on him with any other woman – it certainly never had in the past – but as she’d been doing for weeks, Peyton managed to break him down fast.

  “Fine,” he said. “That little grandma box you saw in the garage is from the time I almost got my mom to move into this house. Like she was supposed to. I had a truck move everything she had left in Vermont down to here, but at the last minute, she changed her mind.”

  Peyton big eyes blinked for a few seconds, as if taking the time to process the information. Connor could tell she was sifting through the many questions in her head, trying to carefully pick which one to ask first. Jesus. It was ridiculous that he found even her nosy prodding to be charming.

  “What do you mean ‘like she was supposed to?’” Peyton finally asked. “Was this house originally for her?”

  “I bought it for her. And my dad. It was supposed to be their escape.”

  “Why did they need to escape?” Peyton pressed on as she cut into her neatly piled stack of pancakes. “And why didn’t they move in?”

  Connor tugged his lower lip, watching Peyton innocently focus on her plate without detecting his souring mood. “The answer to both those questions would be Shane,” he said. “My brother.”

  Peyton’s eyes fluttered with surprise as Connor drew his hand across his jaw. Just saying his name was enough to spike his pulse. It was why, with most people, Connor only ever said “my brother” – and that was only if mentioning him was absolutely necessary. Otherwise, he preferred to carry on as if that piece of shit didn’t exist. It was the best way to avoid spiraling into the dark places his mind used to live in.

  “I didn’t realize you had a brother,” Peyton murmured. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned him.”

  “I didn’t. I try not to. I have no interest in talking about him – ever,” Connor said, making pointed eye contact with Peyton before looking harshly away.

  And for the next few seconds, it was quiet.

  This was generally how it went. Connor had an M.O when it came to people prying about his personal life, and it usually involved whatever steely tone he’d just taken with Peyton, followed by total silence till they got the hint.

  Flicking his gaze up, Connor eyed Peyton. He could tell he’d effectively scared her into backing down, but while he was normally relieved at this point, all he felt right now was guilty. The sight of Peyton looking ashamed and slightly wounded twisted his stomach so hard he actually grimaced.

  “Hey.”

  Letting go of a heavy breath, Connor pushed out his chair. He rounded the table to cup Peyton’s face and bring her lips up to his. It took a moment for her to kiss him back, but the moment she did, Connor breathed again.

 
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, brushing her hair back. “I don’t know why I got that way with you just now. That wasn’t fair,” he said softly, pulling her to her feet and hugging her tight. He took comfort in the smile that drifted onto her lips as he then took a seat on her chair and pulled her down onto his lap.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said softly, gazing down at her hand pressed flat against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ve just felt this… need lately. Like I want to know everything about you,” she said, though she quickly caught herself and blushed. “I mean – God, I hope that didn’t weird or stalker-ish,” she laughed nervously. “I just mean that… I like you a lot,” Peyton finally exhaled, her hazel eyes sparkling nervously as they met Connor’s. “More than… I’ve ever liked anyone. I think.”

  The way that she blinked at herself had Connor suspecting that she was only just realizing this as she spoke. A smile twitched onto his lips as he watched her find the rest of her words.

  “And I guess… I guess this is what happens to me when I feel this way. I just want to know you. Every part of you,” Peyton finished softly, her cheeks flushed to a rosy pink.

  Fuck, she was so sweet. Connor could barely hold back his grin.

  “Don’t be sorry. I feel the same way about you,” he whispered. “And if you want to know about my family, I’ll tell you. I don’t think I’d mind talking about it with you. In fact, I think I want you to know,” he said, surprising himself with the fact that he meant it.

  He knew he had a well-documented reputation for certain things – things that Peyton might understand to some degree if she knew the details of his background.

  “We can start slow,” Peyton smiled. “Like where you grew up.”

  “Easy enough. I grew up in Corliss, Vermont. Little blue-collar town with one of the worst drug epidemics in America.”

  Connor took in Peyton’s look of surprise. People were always so shocked when they found out that he didn’t grow up in the thick of Hollywood – either L.A or Manhattan. Apparently, something about Connor struck the world as having been privileged from birth. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, and it was definitely far from the case.

  “My brother’s three years older than me. He started hanging out with the wrong crowd when he was in middle school, so I knew pretty early on that I needed to work my ass off to get out of that town. There was just nothing for us there, and I hated seeing my parents take second, third jobs just to try and move us out of there before Shane fucked up for good.”

  Connor winced as he returned to those memories. It had been a good while – the only person who needed to know the story was Liam, and having grown up with Connor, he’d followed the saga as it happened. There was really no one else Connor felt the need to share all this with, so it had to have been ages since he’d said any of these words aloud.

  “Any extra money that my parents saved though, it all ended up going to Shane. To bail him out, pay for damages – basically cover the cost of whatever shit he’d gotten into that week. He went from just selling drugs to doing them, and from there, things went bad fast. By the time he was in high school, he’d been to juvie three times. He’d given my dad more black eyes than we could count.” Connor smarted at the next memory. “I was eleven or twelve the first time he dared hit my mom. I punched him so hard he threw me down the stairs and punctured my lung.”

  Peyton’s hands flew to her mouth. If Connor wasn’t mistaken, he saw tears spring straight to her eyes. “Oh God. Connor.” Her hands tugged unconsciously on his shirt. “Baby,” she whispered, her voice so anguished and hurt it surprised him. He closed his eyes as she feathered kisses across his cheek and on his forehead. His heart felt warm as she murmured, “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “It’s alright, I got him back,” Connor managed something of a smile. “By the time I was a freshman, I was stronger than him. By a lot. I knew I’d never touch drugs and I knew I’d move across the fucking country the second I could. The only colleges I looked at were on the West Coast. I told myself from that point on that I was going to make it as what I dreamed to be since I was a kid. I wasn’t letting that town swallow me and turn me into Shane. It was Liam and me both. We were born and raised there, and we knew since we were kids that our goal was to make it in Hollywood. He had to take care of his family, and I had to take care of mine, because my parents were slowly dying trying to deal with Shane. They worked so hard to take care of us. My mom cleaned our neighbors’ houses to put me through a summer program at NYU. They only lived to make sure we were happy, but they themselves were always miserable. Always crying, exhausted and in debt thanks to him.”

  “They loved you both so much.” Peyton shook her head in disbelief. “That’s so awful that they had to go through so much pain.”

  “It wasn’t great. But I worked my ass off for them.”

  “I know,” Peyton said in a tiny, slightly sheepish voice. “You got into USC and got an internship with the biggest production company in Hollywood. You had your first paying job by the age of twenty.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows at her.

  “How did you know that?” he grinned, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  “Googled you pretty extensively when you started working with my uncle. You know that.”

  “Right,” Connor laughed. “Well, that did happen. And by the time I graduated college, I had a steady paycheck writing for TV. I started sending money home to help my parents, but obviously Shane started getting his hands on it. It was like he’d hit the jackpot. Suddenly, he had a little brother who could afford nice things, and he had parents he could manipulate just like that. I know they tried their hardest to stand up to him, but they always caved.”

  “They gave him money?” Peyton asked, surprised. She wondered how the Schaffers could possibly think that a good idea. “They had to have known it would go straight to drugs.”

  “I’m sure they did. In the back of their minds. But they also wanted to believe he just needed the money to take up photography, or hiking, or some other bullshit story about turning it around. They wanted to believe he could, so they’d keep giving him money.” Connor shook his head, looking weary from just telling the story. “After awhile, I stopped sending it,” he said bluntly. “I’d just pay for whatever my parents needed from where I was. Renovations, car repair, new fridge, new truck – I’d buy it from L.A and have them pick it up in Vermont. I couldn’t trust them with cash anymore. They’d just use it to enable my brother.”

  “Of course.” Peyton studied the dark look in his eyes. She could tell from it that the story was far from over yet, and it made her nervous. “But something tells me Shane found a way around it.”

  “He did,” Connor said flatly. “He set their house on fire.”

  “He what?” Peyton choked. She had to blink several times and dial the conversation back to make sure she had heard right. “I’m sorry… what? Why?”

  “He knew I’d pay for the repairs and anything else that they needed. It was too dire a situation not to send them a good amount of cash,” Connor said, his voice tight. “I was twenty-six by then. I had a win at Sundance, I had more jobs, more money, and Shane knew it. By then you could Google things about me – where I was on the weekends, what hotel Liam and I had dropped a bunch of cash at. He was pissed I had so much and he had nothing, and that he couldn’t get his hands on the money the way he used to. So while my parents were at work one day, he set the house on fire.”

  Peyton was speechless. She could hardly fathom the existence of someone like Shane. For so long, she thought she’d seen the worst of the worst – all the spoiled, sleazy egomaniacs Kensie either hung out with or chased. It never occurred to Peyton that her knowledge of bad people barely even scratched the surface. Cheating was one thing – arson was another, and the mere idea of being related to someone as sick as Shane made her physically shudder.

  “Thank God a neighbor ran in to save the dogs,” Connor said, prompting a sharp pain in Peyton’s
chest. She hadn’t even known there were dogs. “But everything else in the house – wedding photos, antiques, so many things that had been in the family for generations. They were all gone.”

  “And Shane went to jail?” Peyton asked, barely trying to hide the hopeful sound in her voice. Her stomach twisted when Connor’s jaw flexed. That couldn’t mean anything good.

  “He didn’t. Long story short, he did that and my parents still forgave him.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I wish,” Connor muttered with a bitter laugh. “They were supposed to move here after the fire. I bought the house for them. Quit a job in L.A just to have the time to renovate it by hand. Liam came to help. We got it done in months, but then Shane threatened to kill himself. My parents had bit the bullet, cut him off and said they’d be moving. But then he pulled that shit and they went right back to him. He still lives with them today. Still overdoses here and there. I’ve stopped trying to change their minds about cutting contact because I know they’re not going to do it. So our relationship will just be forever… in this weird kind of limbo.”

  “What do you mean?” Peyton asked as she cupped Connor’s jaw, her thumbs stroking his cheeks till he relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, his brows sloping in a frown that broke Peyton’s heart. He was so strong and stoic on a regular basis – she didn’t know Connor Schaffer could ever be vulnerable like this.

  “I mean that there’s no way to fix things now,” he said. “I love my parents more than anything in the world. I busted my ass so I could give back to them, but it’s like my career’s only poisoned our lives. It was the reason I was away from them so much, and it’s why they felt the need to hold onto Shane. It’s the reason Shane discovered money, and manipulation, and fucking burning down houses. And now that they won’t let go of him, our relationship’s strained. I love them with all my heart. They’re the reason I live. But I can’t bring myself to see them for too long. All they do is try to justify themselves to me, or try to get me to forgive Shane, and I can’t. So I love them from afar,” Connor said, his voice breaking. “I take care of them from afar. If my anger on a given day is worse than usual, I indulge in my vices. They trick me into thinking I traded up for a better life.” Peyton watched Connor’s throat tighten as he swallowed hard. “And that I don’t miss being home.”