“It’s okay.” My voice comes out lower this time. Softer. “You’re okay.”
She shakes her head, like she doesn’t believe me.
Something ugly twists violently inside me.
I sit slowly on the edge of the bed, giving her enough space that she won’t feel cornered.
“Nightmare?” I ask quietly.
Peyton drags a shaky hand over her face.
For a second, I think she’s not going to answer.
Then she whispers, “Landon.”
The name lands like a lit match inside my bloodstream. Every muscle in my body tightens.
I remember Key West. The blood. The knife.
The look in her eyes when she screamed at me to stop hitting him.
Rage rises so fast it nearly chokes me.
I force it back down. Because this isn’t about me right now. It’s about her.
Peyton’s staring down at the blankets tangled around her legs like she’s ashamed of this. Ashamed of being scared.
That realization nearly fucking destroys me.
“He can’t hurt you here,” I say carefully.
She shakes her head again. “You don’t understand.” The words come out broken. Raw.
I stay quiet, letting her decide if she wants to keep talking.
Finally, her voice cracks softly through the silence. “I saw him grab Allie again.”
My chest caves inward.
“He had that knife against her throat and…” Peyton’s breathing stutters. “There was blood everywhere.”
I don’t say anything.
I can’t.
Because all I can think about is how terrified she must’ve been standing there, helpless. Watching someone she cared about get hurt because of him.
“Then you tackled him,” she whispers.
Something in her expression changes. Fear mixes with something deeper.
“You wouldn’t stop.”
Fuck.
The word echoes heavily through my skull.
I lost control.
