I shouldn’t.
God, I know I shouldn’t.
But I do anyway.
I slowly turn around, her hand moving with me.
I stop, studying her in the darkness.
She’s close enough that I can see every detail. The concern. Softness. Warmth.
She’s looking at me like I matter. Like I’m worth something.
“You’re hurting,” she says softly.
I swallow hard. My throat burns.
I don’t know how to explain this. How to explain the fear. The helplessness.
The constant terror that loving someone means eventually becoming the thing that destroys them.
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly.
And immediately see my mother crying.
My father raging.
The feeling of being too weak to stop any of it.
No.
I won’t do that to Peyton.
I won’t become him.
I won’t?—
Arms suddenly wrap around me.
I go completely still.
My brain short-circuits for a second.
No one... no one has ever held me like this before.
“I don’t know what’s hurting you,” Peyton murmurs against my chest. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
Something inside me cracks.
My arms move before I can stop them, wrapping around her. Pulling her closer and holding on too tightly. Like if I let go, I’ll completely fucking fall apart.
She doesn’t complain. Doesn’t pull away.
Her hand slides slowly up and down my back, steady and calming. Like she knows exactly what I need.
We stand there in the dark for a long time, just holding each other. Breathing together.
Eventually, she pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me.
