The Revenge (The Insiders Trilogy #3)(43)

She gave a small dip of her head before she turned to me for that hug. It was a gentle hug, too. She was soft-spoken, her head folding down a lot and her eyes looking away. She wrung her hands like it was a nervous habit.

Marie walked into the room and she sucked in her breath, actually taking a step back. The wall was there, so she hit the wall, but I got her drift.

And then—then!—Seraphina looked over at her, frowned, and took her hand. Seraphina was reassuring Payton, and the wall crumbled. Game over. I knew that I’d been wrong to not like this person. If Seraphina, one of the kindest people I knew, was trying to shield Payton, or at least comfort her, we were in the wrong.

Cyclone headed over next, wrapping his arms around her legs.

He pressed in, his head craned back so he could see her, and the brightest smile was there. Payton looked down, her entire face softened. She raised a hand up, a finger tucking a strand of Cyclone’s hair back, and then she smoothed her hand through the rest of his hair.

He was loving it. He was living for it.

We needed to trust these two gentle creatures.

They were choosing her, and they were telling us something.

Humble pie, I believe I might need to eat you.

While she had the same wheat-gold blond hair, blue teardrop eyes, and high cheekbones as her sister, Payton looked more demure. Quinn’s face was strong, her bones were more angular. They were defined better. Payton’s face was softer, a little rounder, and her cheeks were more plush. She had slightly thinner lips.

Quinn seemed as if she demanded attention, but Payton got it with a second glance, then a third, a fourth, and soon … who was Quinn again?

Those were the more noticeable differences between the two, now that I was paying attention and not just insta hating. And during family dinner that night—with Peter in attendance, Marie with a pressed mouth, Theresa who kept quiet but also kept watching her mom as if expecting her to explode any second, Payton sitting at the end and laughing quietly with Cyclone and Seraphina, both of whom were so happy that they were glowing—yeah, I was starting to pay attention.

Payton was not Quinn.

Matt showed up at the end, sneaking into a chair on the other side of me. Kash was on my right, and Matt made sure to pat him on the arm. We’d had breakfast together and Kash had given my brother a full lecture on being smart with whatever he and I were about to do.

Matt listened through it all, then leaned forward, plopped his elbows on the table. “Now, let’s talk about how I’m not going to be replaced by your new brother.”

He kept his voice low so no one else could hear, but the rest of the meal was full of Matt peppering Kash with questions, Kash not answering them, and Matt then asking even more questions. By the end, Matt seemed reassured he wasn’t going to be replaced.

Matt slumped down now, grabbing the drink Theresa just sat in front of me, and stabbed his fork into my chicken. He sipped and chewed at the same time while Peter looked up, his nose pressing in. His eyes narrowed, lingering on his oldest before he shook his head from side to side, slowly, and reached for his own wine.

Matt watched the entire perusal and then smirked. “What’s up, Pops?” He didn’t wait a beat, his eyes sliding across the table to where Payton had stilled, half bent toward Cyclone, but biting down on her lip. Matt’s smirk widened. “Look what prodigal reject swept in with the wind.”

Payton sucked in her breath, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Peter instantly scowled.

Kash glanced at me, a small frown.

Marie was sitting with us, next to Peter, and her eyes widened. “Aye aye aye,” she muttered under her breath, making a point of looking down at her lap.

Theresa had been returning to the kitchen, but now she paused and swung back to glare at Matt. One hand on her hip.

Seraphina frowned, a tiny wrinkle in her forehead.

Cyclone burst out. “You shut up, Matt!”

Matt jerked back.

Payton’s eyes rounded. I had a feeling that if she could’ve poofed in the air and disappeared, she would’ve.

Everyone else was as surprised as me.

And Cyclone was not done!

He pounded his fist on the table, sitting up on his knees. He lifted that fist and pointed at his brother with a finger jabbing in the air. “You’re always so mean to Aunt Payton. Stop it!”

Out of the mouths of babes …

I swiveled my head until I was only watching Matt, the back of my head to everyone else. He seemed frozen in place until his eyes jumped and met mine. Guilt flared before he blinked, and then it was gone. His smirk remained, but it was much less, and he leaned forward. His fork was poised over his plate, just hanging from his hand. “I’m being mean, Cy?”

Cyclone’s face got beet red and he sat back down. But his mouth was still tight and his chin jutted out. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not always, but a lot of the times to Aunt Payton and Dad.”

Matt’s eyes started dancing. His smirk was more a flat line, but I had the impression he was holding laughter in. “Really?” He leaned forward, placing his fork down in an exaggerated move and smiled politely. “Well, Dad. I am sorry for being mean so much of the time.” He sat back, nodding to Payton. His tone was more genuine and softer. “Payton.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners, but she nodded back. “Matthew.”

“I didn’t mean that in a mean way…” He winked at Cyclone. “But in a way where I was making fun of Peter Dearest, since, you know, he sent you away when the big guns came home.” His eyes darted to Marie, holding, before he leaned back in his chair. His arm came up, resting on the back of my chair, and he turned to me, his look holding on me, too.