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She was mad at me, and it was more than just her usual annoyance. She always answered my texts, even if it was just to tell me to fuck off. But now she was conspicuously quiet, and I felt empty without her.
A twisty, guilty, ugly feeling wormed its way through my chest as I revved my bike. I couldn’t concentrate on anything because of it all afternoon, even as we finished off one last briefing at the clubhouse after dealing with the Red Skulls, I had only been half listening.
Peyton had told me she wanted more than just physical shit with me, had told me she was starting to get feelings and that we couldn’t continue the way we had been anymore. And what had I gone and done? Knowing all that I knew?
I’d gone and fucked her again last night. And then I wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me.
It didn’t matter that she’d told me she was sure. She wasn’t thinking straight, and I hadn’t realized, and now I felt like the biggest fucking dickhead in America. I honestly didn’t even know why she still wanted me, it was beginning to become clear to me that I was extremely emotionally fucked up.
Why? Because something was shifting within me, and I hadn’t even bothered to tell her. I just let her go on thinking nothing had changed.
And now her silence was beginning to make me feel like she didn’t still want me, not anymore, and that was making me… I was feeling like…
Like I’d made a big fucking mistake. Like I hadn’t even realized what I wanted, until it was taken away from me.
I craved her attention, for fuck’s sake. Since when did I need someone’s attention like that? Never. Not until now.
She wasn’t responding to me and suddenly, my brain was thinking up what would be the best way to tell Nolo about me and her, how long it would take him to stop hating me and accept that she was in my life.
Accept that she was in my life? Since when had I planned to keep her around?
Since a long fucking time ago, dumbass,
Since she made you realize how empty your life was by filling it with her brash, fiery warmth.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I ripped my phone out of my pocket and dialed her as I sped along the road, connecting my cell to the bluetooth in my helmet and mentally demanding that she pick up the damn call. It rang out, and I shoved it angrily back into my pocket.
That was fucking it. When I got home, she was going to cop an earful about the importance of answering me so I wouldn’t get so worried about her, and then we were going have a fucking talk.
It was well past due.
I should have told her what she meant to me when I found her crying at the clubhouse. Or before I fucked her. Or after. Or maybe even woken her up this god damned morning with my tongue on her clit, and told her then.
But no, my dumb, avoidant ass just had to keep waiting. Honestly, if I was her, I’d be disappointed in me, too.
I pulled into my driveway and practically leaped off my bike, ripping my keys angrily out of my back pocket and shoving them noisily into the lock.
The door swung open easily, and I bellowed, “Peyton!” as I lobbed my keys into the bowl a couple of steps from the door. I paused for a second. There was a crack in the bowl that wasn’t there this morning. But then I shrugged, and walked in.
“Peyton, come down here!”
Making my way into the kitchen with long strides, I yanked open my fridge and pulled out two beers, clacking the tops off with my teeth and taking a long pull from one as I placed the other on the countertop for Peyton.
Who was still ignoring me.
“Peyton,” I snapped loudly, and then I slammed my eyes shut and forced myself to relax. I was the one in the fucking wrong, what right did I have to be angry?
I took a deep breath to cool off, and when I opened my eyes again, ready to grab Peyton’s beer and take it up to her as a peace offering, I noticed a set of keys on the floor, almost entirely hidden under the fridge.
My brows furrowed, and I went to grab them. Peyton’s car keys… Why the fuck were they in the kitchen? Had she thought about leaving?
Fear trickled through me and my heart skipped a beat, but I shook my head. She obviously hadn’t driven off if her keys were in my hand. But I noticed the jagged edge of them had a smear of red, and when I brought them closer to inspect, I realized it was blood.
The fuck?
I dropped them on the counter and bounded up the stairs, bursting into Peytons room. It was empty.
