“Do you?” My voice is gruff. “I know how fast angry men become deadly.”
“You’re not him, Daltyn.”
“I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have darkness inside me, Peyton.” My throat works, trying to swallow around the lump filling it. “I fought back. I wanted to hurt him.”
“I don’t blame you, Daltyn. I would’ve done the same. I would’ve wanted him to hurt, too.”
I stare at her.
“Part of me was relieved he stopped moving.”
She nods again, her hands lifting to my face. “Understandable.”
I blow out a breath. “When I woke... I ached because my mom was dead.” My jaw clenches. “But myfather,” I say the word with disgust. “I didn’t feel enough horror that he was gone. Then... or ever.”
“He was an abusive bastard. You don’t owe him guilt. Horror. Regret.”
“But he was my father.”
“Just because he was, doesn’t mean he was a good person. Or that he loved you.”
Her words hit hard.
I spent most of my childhood and teenage years wondering if he gave a fuck if I lived or died.
I knew my mom loved me. Never doubted it for a minute.
But him? The only good thing I ever did in his eyes was play hockey.
I don’t realize I say those words out loud until Peyton says, “That explains why you’re so good. So driven. You took the one thing that was your escape, even if it was also an attempt to gain his approval, and threw yourself into it.”
“Wow.” I stare at the stunning woman in my bed, wondering how in the hell I ever got so lucky that she chose me. “No one has ever gotten that before.”
She presses her forehead to mine. “I do, Daltyn.” Her warm breath flows over my face. “I see you.”
And somehow that terrifies me more than anything else ever has.
“Just like you see me.”
Despite the heaviness inside me, I feel lighter, too. Like getting that out released a valve, easing some of the pressure and pain.
I stare into her watery blue eyes, emotion bubbling over.
And then I confess my worst fear.
“That’s why I was so afraid to get involved with you. To love you.” My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “Everyone I loved died in violence.”
She shakes her head. “Not me, Daltyn.”
She presses her lips against mine, a promise in her kiss.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
65
PEYTON
The first thing I notice when I wake up is warmth.
