Page 54 of The Off Limits Captain
Emma and Lily sit at the table in pajamas. Emma has toast in one hand and a pencil in the other. Lily is wrapped in a blanket, hair wild, eyes swollen from crying she would deny if asked. Mrs. Alvarez stands at the counter with a coffee mug in one hand and the posture of a woman who has already won three arguments before sunrise.
And Peyton Hayes stands at the stove, flipping pancakes.
I stop in the doorway.
She looks up.
No blazer. No recorder. Hair pulled into a messy knot. One of my mother’s aprons tied over her clothes. A streak of flour marks the side of her wrist.
It hits me harder than the hospital did.
“Coffee’s fresh,” she says.
My sisters both turn to look at me.
“She made breakfast,” Emma says, as if presenting evidence in court.
“I see that.”
Lily’s chin wobbles before she gets it under control. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s out of surgery. Stable. Dad’s with her.”
“Can we see her?”
“This afternoon, if the doctor clears it.”
Lily nods and stares at her plate like the pancake has betrayed her.
Peyton slides another one onto the stack. “Bacon’s in the oven. Eggs if anyone wants them.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Peyton glances at me. “You have been awake all night.”
“I said I’m fine.”
She does not argue.
That bothers me more than arguing would have.
Mrs. Alvarez takes a sip of coffee. “I would like it noted that I offered to make breakfast and both children looked personally attacked.”
“You believe toast should be respected,” Lily says.
“Toast is bread with ambition,” Mrs. Alvarez says.
Emma looks at Peyton. “Is he like this in interviews?”
“Worse,” Peyton says.
My mouth twitches before I can stop it.
Peyton sees it. Looks away. Lets me have that beat without making it a thing.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say as she turns back to the sink.
“I know.”
