Owning the truth hurt, but it had to be said. She did deserve better than me, and if telling her that helped Peyton to realize it, then all the better. Not better for me, obviously. I still wanted her. But it would be a hell of a lot better for her.
I should’ve known, though, that she wouldn’t do what I expected. She hadn’t since the day I met her, so why start now? Instead of walking away like she probably should’ve done, what most girls in her place would’ve done, Peyton rolled her shoulders back, shook her head, and said, “I don’t care. I don’t need any of that.”
“Yes,” I told her. “You do.”
She opened her mouth to argue, again, and I tapped a finger against her lips. “And I wish that I could be the guy who gave it to you. But I’m not. You saw my house. It’s cold, it’s heartless, and it’s my life.” I laughed a humorless laugh, and shrugged like it didn’t bother me. “I’m Mitch Carter’s son. I don’t know the first thing about healthy relationships.”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “That’s bullshit.”
The crude word in her sweet voice got my attention. “Excuse me?”
She stepped toward me and lifted a hand as if to touch the side of my face, then dropped it somewhere between us. I couldn’t tell if I was grateful or disappointed.
“You forget, Justin, I saw your brother’s picture,” she said. “I saw the look in your eyes when you told me about him. I’m not saying your home life isn’t strained, or your parents aren’t sucky, egotistical jerkoffs. From what I’ve gathered, they wouldn’t know the meaning of unconditional love if it hit them square in the face. But your brother? Chase? He’s amazing.” Her eyes softened as she took another step closer. “And it’s clear that boy loves you like crazy.”
My ribs squeezed. She was right, actually. Despite my many fuckups, Chase was like my mini-me. We were only half-brothers—a fact his mother reminded me of daily—but that never seemed to matter. Chase followed me around, dressed to match, and begged me to play trucks with him every chance he got. At night, whenever he threw his short arms around my neck and told me he loved me, I vowed to one day become a man he could be proud of.
Up until this year, he’d been the one good spot in my life. The one person who made me feel like I belonged.
“Dad says you’re an incredible leader and the most skillful player he’s seen in years,” she continued. “In fact, Mama and I are getting pretty sick of him bragging about your ‘natural talent’ at dinner.”
She pulled a face as she made air quotes, then smiled to show she was teasing. I couldn’t help but grin. Our eyes held for a moment before she took the final step forward, erasing the distance between us.
“And you’ve got me,” she whispered. “I care about you, Justin. More than you know.”
I swallowed thickly. She was missing the point. “But that’s just it. If this goes south,” I motioned between the two of us, “and we both know I’ll find some way to ruin it, then I’m out. I lose you, and I lose your dad’s respect. I can’t do that, Peyton. I just… can’t.”
In that moment, I loathed myself. The guy I’d become. A spineless wimp grasping at a grown man’s approval. But I needed it. God, I needed it like air. Dan Williams wasn’t only the best high school coach in the state, he was a man of integrity. A true family man who cared about other people. Who saw something in me. That meant everything.
“Then we won’t tell anyone.” Peyton squeezed my shoulder and I raised my head to look at her. “I mean it. If that’s what’s keeping us apart, if telling people bothers you that much, then we’ll keep it a secret. It’s no one’s business but ours anyway.”
The time to keep my hands to myself was over. Reaching out, I grasped her hips and said, “You don’t mean that. You can’t. This isn’t middle school, Peyton. People don’t have secret boyfriends and girlfriends. You deserve—”
“Jesus! Will you stop telling me what I want and deserve?”
Frustration widened her eyes, sparking them with fire. “I don’t want to be with you so I can write our names together on a bathroom stall, Justin! I don’t care about popularity or rubbing it in girls’ faces. I want to be with you because you make me laugh. Because you’re confident and smart and you actually see me.” When she heaved a sigh, warm breath fanned across my lips. “Because when I’m with you, I remember how it feels to be alive.”
Out of everything she could’ve said, that did it.
Peyton Williams would be the end of me. I felt the truth of it in my bones. But there was no more stopping it or sense in denying it—I was done for. I’d sooner cut off my arm than refuse this beautiful girl the chance to feel alive, not after what she’d been through. And hell, knowing I was the one who made her feel that way made me feel unstoppable.