11. Daltyn
DALTYN
“YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE BEAUTIFUL BABIES SOMEDAY.”
Gram’s comment rolls through my head like a recurring nightmare.
I white-knuckle the steering wheel as I drive. Peyton sits in the passenger seat, foot propped on the dashboard. I can tell she’s in pain.
Shit. I need to get her Tylenol or ibuprofen since I don’t even have that.
Plus, I still need groceries. Because apparently keeping another human being alive requires more than bottled water and wishful thinking.
Maybe I’ll just get her some pain meds, then take her home. She can rest while I go to the store.
I glance at her profile. She looks pale. I have no idea whether it’s from the pain in her ankle or Gram’s comment freaking her out.
Guilt eats me alive. I know I’m not acting right. I know I’m frustrating Peyton.
My jaw clenches.
First, we had that flirtation last night that involved lace panties, vibrators, and her wearing my sweatshirt .
Then I found her stolen panties in my pocket and jerked off to them. They’re still shoved inside my nightstand, my cum staining the fabric.
I’ll have to have Thelma wash them.
My thoughts go right back to that horrific nightmare. I’ve been plagued with them for years, but over time, they’ve lessened.
Last night brought it all back.
It felt so damn real. For a moment, I no longer felt safe.
I felt like I was back there. In my childhood home.
I shake my head slightly, pulling myself away before I fully slide into the darkness.
“I’m going to get you some medication. Do you have a preference?”
“None. But since my ankle’s swollen, ibuprofen is good. You can just get me something generic.”
I pull into a space, then put the vehicle in park and glare at her.
“I’m getting you what will work best. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I hurry away, needing air. Her vanilla-and-coconut scent is driving me crazy, making me want to do things I shouldn’t.
Stop it. She’s vulnerable.
The last thing she needs is you. A broken man with a traumatic past.
I grit my teeth and head into the store to get what I need. As much as I need space from her, I hate leaving her alone in my truck.
Fuck.
I’m so damn screwed.
I clutch the bag with the medication and bottled water in my hand, striding toward my Escalade. I’m relieved when I see Peyton sitting there.
At least she didn’t try to run off. Not that I’d blame her after the way I’ve been acting.
I climb inside, then hand her the bag. “I got you a couple of different brands. I wasn’t sure which you preferred. Here’s some water, so you can take it now.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me warmly before digging through the bag. “I normally don’t take medication, but this thing is really throbbing.”
I grab the box from her hand, open it, and pop two pills from the foil. I hand it to her, then open the bottle of water. She lets me do it without protesting, indicating how much pain she’s in.
“Thanks for this. And the shoes. Though you didn’t need to buy me three pairs.”
“I thought you liked shoes?”
She smiles. “I do. I just don’t like owing?—”
“You don’t.” My hand cups her face. My voice is low. “You don’t owe me anything.”
She looks skeptical. “Are you... sure?”
“Positive.” I lean closer, letting her see the truth in my eyes. “I’m not buying you things to get something from you. I do it because I want to. I want to help you.”
Her eyes are misty with tears. “That means a lot. I’m just... not used to that.”
A slow smile curls my lips. “Well, get used to it. At least with me.”
I remove my hand, already feeling the loss. Touching her feels like standing too close to a fire. I know I’m going to get burned, but damned if I don’t want to let it burn me alive.
Stop it.
You can’t.
She’ll be the one to get hurt.
And I’d rather end myself than hurt her.
Even with the warning circling inside my head, the intrusive thoughts slip in. How good she felt in my arms. The way she leaned into me in the store. The way her silky hair tickled my nose when I lifted her from my vehicle. The way she trusts me, even when she’s mad or frustrated with me.
I smile. The way she got jealous because Tabitha flirted with me at the diner.
Then reality settles in.
Whatever this thing is between us, it can’t become anything.
But a part of me wishes like hell it could.