Page 47 of The Destruction You Desire
She's once again chewing on her nails.
Taking her hand in mine, I hold it tightly as I take a step toward the imposing building before us, but she doesn't move.
"I-I can't do this."
Turning back to her, I drop our bags on the sidewalk and take her face in my hands.
"Of course you can, P."
"I can't," she whimpers. "E-even if she does make it, I've got to tell her that Mom is dead and I—" She sucks in a shaky breath, tears pooling in her eyes.
"Baby," I breathe, staring right into her eyes so she can hopefully see the truth in my next words. "You are so fucking strong. What you've been through, how you've handled it, it fucking floors me." Her tears drop and I catch them with my thumbs. "No matter what happens, I'll be right by your side, and I swear to fucking God, I'm not going to let you fall, P. Not ever again."
She nods, her bottom lips trembling, but I'm not sure how much of it she believes. Hell, if our positions were switched, I wouldn't believe a word that comes out of my mouth if I were her.
"You need to know how bad it is. Standing out here and thinking the worst isn't helping anyone. It might not be as bad as you're imagining."
"Or, it could be worse."
I swallow nervously, knowing that she's right. Libby is a junkie according to Peyton so we could be about to walk into anything.
"Come on." I take her hand once more and grab our bags.
She walks silently beside me with her head down. All signs of the confident woman who stood up to me over the past few weeks have gone and I hate it. I want my little spitfire back. The one who called me out on my bullshit and refused to roll over when I treated her like shit.
"Hi, we're looking for Liberty Banks," I say to the lady behind the reception desk when Peyton makes no move to say anything.
"Okay, just give me a few seconds."
The lady taps around for a few seconds before looking up at the two of us with sympathy written all over her face.
"Oh my God," Peyton cries.
"She's in ICU. It's family only."
"I'm her sister," Peyton manages through her tears.
"And I'm—"
"My husband."
I nearly choke on my own breath at Peyton's words.
"Okay." The receptionist nods, looking between the two of us.
She gives us directions to get to the ward and sends us on our way.
It's not until we're in the elevator and heading for the fifth floor that I pull Peyton in front of me and grip her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes.
"Husband?" I ask, keeping my voice light.
"I'm not doing this alone. I'd have said you were my brother if it didn't freak me out quite so badly."
"I appreciate that, baby. I think I can play a better husband than a brother, don't you?"
Leaning down, I brush my lips over hers, needing her to know that I'm totally here with her right now.
For better or worse.
