She’s giving me a different version of herself. Not the one who jokes and teases. Not the one trying to protect herself. A side of her seldom seen.
Soft. Open. Real.
“Nightmare?” she asks quietly.
I nod once. It’s all I can manage.
Her expression aches for me.
And somehow that hurts worse than pity ever could.
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
My breath catches. I stare at her.
Every survival instinct I have screams at me to say no. To walk away. To rebuild the distance before this becomes something irreversible.
But I’m so fucking tired.
Tired of fighting myself. Tired of pretending she doesn’t matter. Tired of carrying everything alone.
So I nod again.
She takes my hand and leads me to her bed.
I crawl into her bed, lying stiffly beside her at first, hyper-aware of everything.
Of her warmth. Of her scent. Of how dangerously right this feels.
Then she shifts closer.
And without even realizing it, I follow.
My head ends up against her chest.
Her fingers slide slowly into my hair, soothing, gentle strokes.
I go completely still.
And then… I let myself have this.
Let myself relax into her touch. Her comfort.
For the first time in my life, I’m not the one holding everything together. Not the one bracing for impact. Not the one trying to survive.
“I’ve got you,” Peyton whispers softly, her hand sliding down my back.
My eyes close.
This should terrify me.
This is how lines blur. This is how people become necessary. This is how someone gets hurt.
But wrapped in her arms, listening to her heartbeat beneath my ear… I feel calmer than I ever have in my entire life.
That should scare me the most. Because it means this isn’t just about protection anymore. It’s deeper than that now.
And I don’t know how the hell to stop it.
