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Right.
His shoulder. A partial dislocation from when two assholes had come into Sebastian’s home and tried to kill them.
Sebastian.
“Seb. Where’s—” He twisted, searching, as panic rose in his chest. When his eyes locked with Sebastian’s familiar blue, it eased.
No bullet hole. The cut on his forehead was fading, the bruising around it an ugly mix of purple and red. He was okay.He was okay. Peyton already knew it had been a dream, but the relief he felt made him dizzy.
It felt so real. It always did. That familiar feeling of standing on foreign soil, the sun heating him as adrenaline rode him. Real memories mixed in with the nightmares his mind conjured.
It wasn’t real.
It never was.
Peyton silently slid his hand across the sheets towards Sebastian. Sebastian hesitated for a moment that felt like a lifetime as Peyton’s heart beat heavily in his chest. He’d revealed his monster to Sebastian when he’d chosen to kill Dane instead of sparing him. Sebastian’s safety had been at the forefront of his mind, but he knew that a deeper, darker, twisted part of himself missed it.
Missed having a purpose.
A reason.
Sebastian leaned forward, their fingers meeting and tangling together. He was warm, and his grip was firm and sure. It was a comfort that Peyton hadn’t known he needed.
Peyton swallowed, a lump lodging in his throat. His lips parted, but he didn’t know what to say. “Sorry” seemed inadequate. Worse than inadequate. It waswrongbecause he wasn’t really sorry. He’d had options, and he’d chosen the one that had shown who he really was. The one who would choose to spill blood without hesitation. He’d done it to protect Sebastian—and he would do it again if it meant protecting any of them. But it had revealed that the demon inside him was still very much alive despite his attempts to purge it by leaving the military.
He wouldn’t have blamed Sebastian if he’d run in the other direction.
Peyton had tried to do the same, but he could never outrun it.
Havingtherightwordsat the right moment was the cornerstone of Sebastian’s career: the systematic destruction of the prosecution and watching the light go out in their souls at the realisation that Sebastian had led them in a circle and was about toburythem.
Staring into Peyton’s midnight-blue eyes, haunted and earnest, waiting for Sebastian to say something,anything,he found he had no words.
He squeezed Peyton’s hand, taking comfort in the touch. He knew, in theory, what Peyton had been and had a vague idea of what that entailed. Special forces wasn’t exactly a desk job. Knowing andseeingwere two different things, however. He couldn’t tell Peyton that everything was okay, because it wasn’t. Yesterday was going to follow them both in different ways. But something in Sebastian knew that wasn’t what had put that look in Peyton’s eyes. There was a whole history there that Sebastian didn’t understand.
“Thank you,” was all he could think to say. He couldn’t remember if he’d said it yesterday. A lot had happened, and parts were a blur. He should have said it then and would keep repeating it until Peyton understood just how grateful he was. If Peyton hadn’t been there, Sebastian didn’t know what the outcome would have been, only that he wouldn’t have fared as well.
Peyton’s grip went slack, and his nostrils flared as his eyes glistened. “Seb…” he trailed off, his voice a mixture of relief and wariness.
Sebastian licked his lips and moved closer. “Do you… want to sit up?” he asked.
Peyton gave a brief nod, and Sebastian smiled at him, stroking his hair and then down his chest to meet where Will and Peyton’s hands were twined together.
Peyton cooperated as Quinn slid an arm around his shoulders, and Will braced his lower back. Between the three of them, they managed to get Peyton into a sitting position without jostling his injured shoulder.
“Do you want a shower?” Will asked. There was something in his voice, like he was familiar with this. Did it happen often? Nightmares that had someone thrashing like Peyton had been, thesoundshe’d made, were ones that spoke of a deeper kind of turmoil. To have them often enough that his partner knew what helped?
Peyton hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, snagging on a knot. Quinn moved first, helping untangle the strands.
Peyton thanked him quietly and then strode silently from the room.
The silence left behind was heavy.
Will let out a breath and stood. “I’ll—”
“I’ll go,” Sebastian interrupted. He couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for whatever had triggered this. He wanted—needed—to try to fix it.
“We’ll be here,” Quinn said, sliding to the edge of the bed and wrapping an arm around Will’s waist.
