Peyton held my gaze. “How muchdoyou remember?”
A lot that I didn’t need him to know about, but I didn’t say that. Bits and pieces of last night were coming back, though. “I just remember dancing at the club, and then feeling like I didn’t want to be there anymore.” I shook my head. “The rest…”
Peyton leaned forward to put his coffee cup on a coaster. As he sat back, he wrung his hands in his lap. “I remember it a little more clearly.”
My stomach dropped. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but as I put my own coffee cup down, I asked anyway: “What do you remember?”
“You told me you were too drunk to drive, and to be at the club.” He swallowed. “When I asked why you were thatdrunk, you said you’d come to the club because you didn’t want to be alone. You said you were in a bad space, so hooking up didn’t seem like a good idea.”
Well, at least I hadn’t been completely out of my head. “I… kind of remember that, now that you mention it. Not wanting to be alone, but being in a bad space.” I let my shoulders drop. “Last night was a bad night. I definitely shouldn’t have been drinking. I’m just glad I wasn’t stupid enough to go home with someone.”
I shuddered at the thought, vaguely aware that that possibility had been on the table at some point. I couldn’t remember a specific face—faces?—only that something had definitely happened. Something that had to do with this skin-crawly feeling the shower hadn’t been able to wash away. Good thing I’d come to my senses, and despite the humiliation of facing Peyton now, thank God I’d thought to text Peyton. And that he’d been willing to come get me.
I turned to him, furrowing my brow. “You didn’t have to stay the night.”
He shrugged and picked up his coffee for a quick sip. As he put it back down, he said, “I was worried. I… I mean, I didn’t think you’d had enough to have alcohol poisoning or anything. But I felt weird about leaving.”
Renewed shame twisted behind my ribs. “Was I that bad?”
Another shrug. “Might’ve been a little jumpiness on my part. I… worry about people when they’re drunk, especially if they’re not in a good place mentally.” He turned a sheepish look on me. “I didn’t want to intrude or stay when I wasn’t invited. I just… wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“No, it’s fine. Probably for the better anyway.” When alarm registered in his expression, I quickly added, “Because I was obviously a mess. You couldn’t have known how bad I was.”
That seemed to assuage some of his worry. “You’re good now, though?”
Oh, wasn’tthata complicated question?
“Well, I’m not drunk anymore.” I grimaced as I brought up my coffee for another swallow. “I feel like shit, so I’m…” I wanted to say this would probably keep me from getting drunk again any time soon. I wondered if he would believe that any more than I did.
“I have a question,” he said, voice still soft. “Just… yes or no, okay?”
I gritted my teeth as I put my coffee cup down. “Okay.”
He studied me for a long, painfully silent moment before he whispered, “Last night—was that about Leif?”
The dam didn’t break this time.
Itshattered.
The sound of my best friend’s name, wrapped in genuine concern from someone who’d apparently seen right through the mess I’d been last night, smashed all the defenses I’d been holding up for too damn long.
Crying sucked under the best of circumstances. When I was already hungover and miserable, it fucking hurt.
But I’d have been lying if I said it wasn’t a million times easier when Peyton collected me in his arms and started stroking my hair. As miserable as I was, as bad as I was hurting, Ireveledin being wrapped up in strong arms that held me together even while I broke apart. Gentle fingers stroked my hair. Soft words propped me up almost as much as his solid frame.
And for the first time since my best friend’s widow had collapsed in my arms, I leaned on someone else. I let the grief and the guilt and all those other awful feelings crashover me, same as I had so many times, except I didn’t have to hold myself up. I didn’t have to care about pulling it together and hiding all the evidence before showing my face to other people, because the jig was up now. Peyton knew what a mess I was, and he was just holding on and letting me fall apart the way I’d so desperately needed to for so damn long.
After I had no idea how long, I finally collected myself and sat up. Peyton kept a hand on my shoulder, studying me with an expression full of nothing but gentle concern. No judgment. NoJesus fuck, man up already.When he was apparently sure I could hold myself up, he withdrew his hand, but he didn’t slide away from me. There was plenty of room on this couch for us to put some serious distance between us if he wanted that. He stayed where he was, though.
I was a goddamned mess. It took a couple of tissues to take care of that, and a swig of cooling coffee helped, too.
“Damn it. I’m sorry.” I sniffed as I wiped my eyes with a badly shaking hand. “I’m such a trainwreck.”
“You’re not,” he whispered, and he didn’t sound the least bit judgy. “I get the feeling you’ve been holding all that in for a long time.”
“I have to.”
“Why? It’s not healthy.”
