Page 222 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
Her hands slide up my chest and then to my jaw, holding me there. Making sure I look at her.
“Abusive men don’t spend their lives terrified of becoming abusive,” she says softly.
The words land like a physical blow.
I stare at her.
No one has ever said that to me before.
The words hit deep.
Peyton’s eyes shine with emotion. “Your father hurt people and slept just fine afterward,” she whispers. “You saw one scared little boy yesterday, and it destroyed you.”
Something painful lodges hard in my throat.
“You protect people, Daltyn.” Her thumb brushes lightly across my jaw. “You protect me.”
The words hit somewhere deep and broken inside me.
All my life, I’ve been terrified of becoming dangerous. But Peyton looks at me like I’m the exact opposite.
“You notice fear because you survived it.” Her voice softens further. “Not because you’re dangerous.”
My chest caves inward so hard it physically hurts to breathe.
For the first time in my entire fucking life… someone sees all the darkness inside me. And stays anyway.
Something inside me quietly breaks like a crack spreading through years of concrete.
My breathing turns uneven.
Peyton’s hands stay on my face, grounding me there while her eyes search mine carefully.
There’s no fear. No hesitation. Just softness.
And somehow that’s the thing that finally undoes me.
Because nobody has ever looked at me and seen safety before.
Not when they knew the truth.
My throat tightens painfully. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit roughly. “Nobody ever stayed long enough to teach me how.”
The confession scrapes something raw out of my chest.
Peyton’s expression softens even further. “Do what?”
I laugh once without humor.
“This.” I gesture weakly between us. “Let somebody this close.”
Emotion flickers across her face, understanding dawning. “You already are,” she whispers.
The words nearly knock me offbalance.
Peyton’s arms slide slowly around my waist, like she’s giving me time to pull away if I need it.
I don’t.
