Page 56 of The Destruction You Desire
"Look after Peyton, Luc. She's already been through so much. I hate that I'm not there for her."
"I'll do everything I can."
"I know you still love her."
I don't respond to her statement. I can't.
"But you need to prove it to her because you've done a really good job at showing her just the opposite recently."
"I know," I whisper.
"You've got a good heart, Luca. Use it."
I nod despite the fact she can't see me.
"Call me if anything changes or if either of you need anything."
"We will. Thank you, Fee."
"Don't let me down, boy," she warns before hanging up on me, leaving me with nothing but a blank screen and the ragged breaths of the woman in my arms.
"How much of that did you hear?" I whisper into her hair.
"All of it."
I hold her tighter, squeezing my eyes closed and breathing her in.
"She's right, you know," I confess.
She shrugs. "It doesn't matter."
Her nonchalance damn near rips my heart out.
"I don't know how to make it up to you, P," I admit, honestly. I fucked up so badly and I’m terrified that I'm never going to be able to come back from it in her eyes.
Unwrapping my arms from around her waist, she pushes from the bed and begins pacing.
"There's nothing you can do, Luc. What's done is done."
"No," I spit, standing in her way and forcing her to stop. My hands land on her upper arms, and although she doesn't look up at me, I know she's listening. "I'm going to find a way, baby. I'm going to figure out a way to make it up to you and to prove to you that you can trust me again."
She sucks in a breath as if she's about to respond when there's a knock at the door.
"Pizza is here," she mutters, slipping from my hold and walking farther into the room.
I watch her for a beat, her shoulders slumped in defeat as she drops into the old ratty chair in front of a small table on the other side of the room.
The pizza guy knocks again and drags me from my daze.
"Thanks, man," I say, taking the box from him, my stomach growling loudly the second the scent hits my nose.
Closing the door behind him, I flick the deadbolt that Peyton was worried about and take the pizza over to her, sitting in the other chair. Although from the loud creak it makes when I put my weight on it, I'm surprised I don't end up on the floor.
I flip the lid and stare down at the cheesy goodness, my stomach growling once again but she makes no move to take a slice when I dive in for my first.
"Eat, P," I demand.
Her eyes fly up to mine, her lips part to argue but she must remember why I'm being a bossy asshole because she sits forward and takes a slice.
