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Like Payton’s expression.
It’s so full of guilt and sadness, it makes my chest hurt.
Pain will pass. But those emotions…
What is she thinking?
Is she regretting ever meeting me?
Does she blame me? Hate me?
What if she asks to leave?
What if she demands to go back to her old life?
My teeth clench.
I won’t let her.
That’s what’ll happen. I won’t let her. I’ll make her stay, and I’ll make her remember that she loves me.
When my arm is bandaged, I turn more toward Payton, and place her feet in my lap.
The desolate look is still on Payton’s face when the doctor finally stands.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re a very lucky girl Miss Vawdrey,” the doc tells Payton, patting her hand, and I hate that I don’t have a last name to give her. “I don’t see any signs of fractures and the skin abrasions should all heal well.” My eyes move to the gauzy bandages around Payton’s wrists where the tape dug into her smooth flesh. “The concussion is the most serious matter, but all you need to do is rest.” The doctor moves her gaze to mine. “Keep her in bed. And keep her hydrated. Bright lights might bother her, so keep them low. The headache is normal. I’m leaving painkillers for her to take, that you can start in a couple hours, since I gave her a dose when you got here.” I nod. “Above all, keep her calm, and she’ll be fine.”
“Alright.” My voice comes out gritty, having not used it in so long. “Will you help me get her dressed before you leave?”
Payton shakes her head.
“Baby.” I kneel beside the bed. “There’s less of a chance of me hurting you if they help.”
Payton just shakes her head again, so I sigh and let the doctors leave.
I keep Payton in sight as I collect a small stack of clothing––clean underwear, a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts. We work slowly, but together get her dressed in fresh clothes.
When I try to get her to lie back down, Payton shuffles up the bed so she’s sitting against the headboard.
“You need to lay down.”
She shakes her head, clutching at my hand.
I let her take it, hoping it’s a good sign. If she wanted to leave me, she wouldn’t want to touch me.
“I-I’m so sorry.” Her voice bursts out of her on a sob, and I’m instantly on the bed with her, pulling her to sit crosswise on my lap.
“Shh, Baby, no. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”
“It’s all my fault!” she hiccups, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
I keep one arm around her back, holding her to me, and use the other to lightly grip her chin, making her look up at me. “Payton, Baby.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “You did not start this feud. I did. I started it fifteen years ago when I slaughtered Mikhail’s family. He was just a fucking kid, so I let him live.” I shake my head. “I told him what a piece of shit his father was and I trusted him to grow up and do better. That’s on me. I should’ve ended his life with the rest of them, but I didn’t.” I kiss the other corner of her mouth, tasting her sadness. “And I have to live with that. I have to live with knowing that every mark on this beautiful body is my fault.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not.”
I press my forehead to hers. “It is. And I’m sorry.”
“But…” Her breath hitches. “The bodyguards. G-Giles. And the other car.” Her fingers dig into the front of my shirt. “And––”
