Her eyes are red.
Her breathing is still uneven.
And the second she looks up and sees me? Relief floods across her face so fast it physicallyhurts to look at.
Something inside my chest caves in completely.
“Daltyn.” My name leaves her mouth like she’s been holding herself together by a thread, waiting for me to appear.
Fuck.
I close the distance between us.
Peyton sets the mug down, then stands so fast the chair tips back, hitting the wall.
She moves before I can react, crashing into me so hard that the force nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
I catch her automatically, my arms locking around her waist while she buries her face against my chest.
Shaking.
Still fucking shaking.
Every protective instinct inside me turns violent.
My hand slides into her hair while I hold her tighter.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur roughly against the top of her head. “I’ve got you, Pey.”
She clutches fistfuls of my hoodie like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
Guilt slices viciously through my chest.
She needed me, and I wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry,” I say before I can stop myself.
Peyton pulls back just enough to look up at me, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”
My jaw tightens.
“I shouldn’t have pulled away last night.” The words scrape painfully up my throat. “I saw that video and?—”
Rage flashes hot through my bloodstream again.
“She grabbed you. They had you cornered.”
Peyton visibly flinches at the memory.
My entire body goesrigid.
Fuck.
I cup her face, gentler this time. Like she might break if I touch her too hard.
“Did they hurt you?”
Her eyes soften. Not because of the question, but because of the panic underneath it.
