“Oh no. Mike don’t.” Peyton pulled on the back of his shirt. He jerked his right shoulder sharply, throwing her off balance.
Peyton tripped. Her hand clipped the corner of an elaborate display, sending glass and candy crashing to the floor. A burning pain shot through her wrist and up her arm, taking her to her knees.
Her gaze connected with Michael’s. The horror in his eyes stabbed her in the heart, knowing he would never forgive himself for this.
“Peyton!” He shoved Dylan away and headed toward her. Regret covering his face.
“Oh no you don’t.” Security intercepted him.
“Man, just let me make sure my woman is okay,” Peyton heard Michael say.
“You should’ve thought of that in the first place.” They pushed him back.
Sales clerks and shoppers came to her rescue while security charged in from multiple directions. Ignoring the pain, all Peyton could think about was Michael. Memories of the bar fight story were at the forefront of her mind.
“I have to get to him,” she said to no one in particular, chaos all around her. The pain in her hand worsened as she tried pushing her way through the massive crowd that had suddenly formed. She had to get to him. “Wait! This is all a misunderstanding.”
Barely able to see over the tops of heads, she did see security shoving Dylan and Michael back.
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding,” an employee said. “Hey! I need some help over here.”
“I have to go with my boyfriend. Michael!” she called out as a cop cuffed him. Michael met her gaze.
“Call Luke.” She read his lips as they yanked on his arms and shoved him out the door.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she dug in the side of her bag, for her cell phone, finding the task difficult to maneuver with one hand.
“Ma’am, please sit down. The EMTs should be here shortly.”
Unable to hold them back, tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please help me. I have to call my brother-in-law.” With the woman’s assistance, Peyton dialed.
“Hey, PJ,” Luke answered on the second ring and Peyton sobbed.
“Luke, Michael’s in trouble.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hours later Peyton paced the length of Michael’s living room, his mother sitting on the sofa wringing her hands, and his brother, Bailey sitting quietly next to her. The evening had been a nightmare, and it still wasn’t over.
An ache twisted in Peyton’s heart. She had shed more tears than she knew she had, especially when told that Michael didn’t want her presence at the police station. Carlton had called an hour earlier to tell them the police had released Michael and that he was headed home.
Luke had contacted Bailey, and Rashon, Michael’s youngest brother. They had shown up at the hospital just as Peyton was getting the cast put on. They both stayed until she was released. Bailey drove her to Michael’s house, and Rashon left to pick up his girlfriend from work.
“I’m going to the kitchen. Do either of you need anything?” Bailey asked. When Peyton and Laura shook their heads, he left the room.
“I can't believe we’re going through this again,” Laura mumbled. “The last time almost broke Michael, almost destroyed him. He's never going to forgive himself for you getting hurt. He...” She stopped, and Peyton wondered what she was going to say.
“I’m sorry this happened.” Peyton sat next to Laura, placing her good hand on the older woman’s thigh. Peyton’s left hand and wrist sported a cast thanks to two fractures in her hand. “I’m going to be fine, and Carlton said that Dylan wasn’t pressing charges against Michael. We're all going to get through this. I love your son so much. Nothing is going to change that.”
“You’re sweet and just what my son needs. I only hope your love is enough.”
“PJ!” Michaela yelled from upstairs. Despite insisting on waiting for her daddy to get home, she had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago.
When Michaela cried out again, Peyton stood. She wanted to know what Laura meant by her last comment but knew she needed to go to Michaela.
“I’ll be right back.”
Peyton calmed Michaela and waited until she drifted back to sleep before she headed toward the stairs. She stood frozen when she heard the front door open, her heart rate tripling. Michael had finally made it home.
“Where is she?” Michael asked in a rush, his voice traveling up the stairs. “Is she here?”
“She's here. She’s checking on Michaela,” Laura said. “Oh son, I’m so glad you’re all right.”
When Peyton made it down the stairs, she saw Bailey and Carlton first and then Michael, who was caught up in his mother's embrace.
Their gazes met. Her heart fluttered wildly. Peyton had never been this happy to see anyone in all of her life. It was as if a boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. Besides a little tired, he seemed fine physically. But his eyes told a different story. Weariness was evident as he rushed over to her.
Without a word, he pulled her against him tightly. His head buried in the crook of her neck, he held onto her as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.
Tears flooded Peyton’s eyes, and her throat tightened. Her emotions jumbled inside as she breathed in his scent, never wanting him to let her go.
“I’m sorry. Baby, I am so sorry,” he repeated over and over next to her ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. He kissed the side of her head, his hold growing tighter.
“I’m just glad you’re here and that you’re okay,” Peyton said knowing the night could have turned out differently, but was glad that everyone was okay.
Michael lifted his head, and Peyton knew the moment when his misty eyes spotted the bruise near her hairline. His features hardened in an instant. She had tried hiding the mark with her hair but apparently hadn’t done a good job.
He stepped back, his chest heaving as he held her by the shoulders. His gaze strolled down her body but stopped at the cast on her hand.
“You said she was okay!” he growled at Bailey and dropped his arms from her shoulders.
“Hey, I told you what she told me to say!” Bailey snapped back.
“Shh, baby, I’m fine. See, I’m okay.” She tried soothing Michael, her hand on his arm, but he stiffened under her touch.
“Dammit, Peyton! You have a cast on your hand and a bruise on the side of your head. And that’s just what I can see. You’re not fine!”
“That’s enough, Michael!” His father’s booming voice ricocheted off the walls immediately silencing Michael’s rant.
Michael turned Peyton’s face to get a better look. His eagle-eyed gaze traveled the length of her before returning his attention to her face. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No, and the scar on my head doesn’t even hurt,” she lied. It stung, but she wasn’t worried about a little discomfort. She grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him into the living room.
“I’m going to take your Mama home. Are you guys good?” Carlton asked, keys jingling in his hand.
“We’ll be alright,” Peyton said.
“I’m going to head out too,” Bailey added.
“Thank you all for everything you did for us tonight.” Peyton hugged them before seeing them out.
Michael refused to sit down, opting to stand near the fireplace.
“Carlton said there were no charges.”
“Yeah, your ex-husband didn’t nail me with assault charges.” Michael closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his forehead furrowed. Peyton glanced at the clock. Two a.m. and it was clear he was tired. By the grimace on his face, she also suspected he had a headache. “I’ll just need to take care of the cost of damages at the store.”
“I’ll take care of that. This is all my fault any—”
“None of this is your fault!” he spat. “I saw him put his hands on you, and I lost it. Asking questions first never crossed my mind.” His tone grew more annoyed with each word. For weeks, he thought Dylan was up to no good and had assum
ed the worst when seeing him.
Peyton slowly approached Michael, stopping a short distance in front of him. She kept her hands to herself, his agitation growing.
“You were right,” Peyton said. “Dylan hunted me down because he wanted to borrow money. I’m sorry I didn’t take the situation more seriously. I should have listened.” Staring into Michael’s intense eyes, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest. Relief flooded through her like a waterfall. He didn’t push her away.
They stood holding each other. She didn’t dare ask Michael where Dylan was and hoped her ex-husband had sense enough to stay away.
“Come on. Let's go to bed.” Michael kissed the top of her head before releasing her.
Peyton waited by the stairs as he checked the doors and turned on the alarm system. When he approached her, his gaze went automatically to her cast and his jaw twitched. Instead of speaking, he held her uninjured hand and led her up the stairs.
Peyton sent up a silent prayer, thanking God for keeping Michael safe. They could get through this. As long as they were together, they could get through anything.
*
Early the next morning, Michael sat in the upholstered chair in his bedroom watching Peyton sleep. The night before was déjà vu. Six years ago, he had used poor judgment in dealing with a similar situation. Seeing Dylan grip Peyton’s arm while she tried to pull away, made Michael see red. All he could remember thinking was that Peyton was in danger and he had to get to her. Yet, he had been the one to hurt her.
Across the room, Peyton yawned and stretched her arms up and out. With her eyes still closed, she reached over to his side of the bed and felt around before bolting upright. She squinted against the sunlight sneaking through the blinds, and rubbed her eyes.
“Hey,” she finally said when she zoned in on him.
“Hey.” He moved across the room and twisted the blinds closed. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, taking her all in. Even with her disheveled hair, she was still the most beautiful woman to him. They had come a long way since their first meeting on the plane, when she thought he was an arrogant ass.
Michael pushed her hair away from her forehead, avoiding the bruise. The back of his hand glided down the side of her face.
“How do you feel this morning?”
Peyton hesitated, searching his eyes as if trying to read his mood. She lifted the cast that covered her hand and wrist. “My arm aches a little, even though according to the x-rays there are no fractures, except for in my hand.”
Anguish twisted around his heart for what his stupidity had put her through. What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t he assessed the situation better before reacting?
Peyton glanced at the clock on the side table next to the bed. “It’s only seven o’clock. Why are you up so early?”
Technically it wasn’t early for him, but he couldn’t sleep and had been up for hours. He had even carried his daughter over to his mother’s house since he needed to talk to Peyton.
“Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.” No need to tell her that he had sat up most of the night watching her sleep and thinking. Hearing her cry out in pain at the store, haunted him for the majority of the night.
“What's on your mind?”
“You. Us.” He turned and bent forward, his elbows on his thighs. Michael struggled to swallow the lump that lingered in his throat. “We need to talk.”
Peyton said nothing. Did she know what was coming? Did she know that he was about to do the hardest thing he had ever done in his life?
“Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this conversation?” She sat up straighter, adjusting the pillows behind her. “Michael, I know you're kicking yourself for what happened yesterday, but things happen. The situation just got a little out of hand.”
“A little?” He shot off the bed. “Baby, your hand is broken because my stupid ass attacked someone. As a former cop, I know the ramifications of reacting before assessing the situation. As a person who has been in a similar situation before, I know how bad last night could have turned out. That was more than out of hand.”
Michael turned away from her and rubbed the back of his neck. He had placed not only Peyton in danger, but everything he held dear could have been snatched away because he had gone off half-cocked after a man. Dylan could have easily pressed charges, but stated he shouldn’t have touched Peyton.
Michael heard Peyton moving around. He had to talk to her. Part of him knew the decision he had come to about their future was for the best, but…
Peyton came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head against his back. Michael placed his hands over hers. Feeling the hard cast on her hand made him relive the night all over again.
“I hate seeing you like this,” she said, her voice muffled. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
Michael shook his head. “Nothing.” He turned in her arms and held her tightly against his body, not wanting to let her go. Emotion clogged his throat, and his chest tightened.
Peyton lifted her head, and he stared into her concerned eyes. “I love you so damn much,” he choked out and kissed her lips. The last time he felt as if his heart was crumbling into pieces like now, was when he had found his mother bloodied and unconscious because of Lewis. That same hopeless feeling gripped everything within him, refusing to let him breathe.
“I love you too.” Peyton lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, making what he had to say that much harder.
Breaking off the kiss, he cupped her face between his hands. “Please don't hate me.”
Her brows dipped. “I could never hate you. Why would you even say something like that?” She caressed his cheek.
“I'm sending you home,” he said. “Your flight leaves at two and Luke will pick you up at the airport once you land in Cincinnati.”
Peyton pushed away from him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re breaking up with me?”
I have to do this, he told himself.
“Yes.”
“I’m not some child who you can just tell what to do or where to go. I'm not leaving!”
“Yeah, you are.” Michael walked across the room and picked up her boarding pass from the small table next to the chair. Dropping the paper on the bed, he said, “I can't do this Peyton. I thought I could commit and do the whole relationship thing and live a normal life, but I can't. I can’t risk something like last night happening again. When I walked in and saw Dylan, I...”
Michael shook his head, his words clogging his throat. He squeezed his eyes closed. His fists balled at his sides.
“I can't leave, Michael.” Peyton’s voice cracked, tears trekked down her face. “I won’t. You have never done anything to hurt me. This generational curse you speak of, I haven’t seen proof of it based on the way you’ve treated Michaela and me.”
She wiped furiously at her tears, but they came faster, breaking Michael’s heart even more.
“I’m so sorry you grew up in an abusive home, but in my heart, I know that would never happen to us. It would never happen in our home. You would never put your hands on me like that, and I’m not giving up on us. I love you too much to let you go.”
His mother had been like that when he was growing up, thinking that her love for his father would be enough to save him. Even with Lewis going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, nothing changed. If anything, their lives got worse. It wasn't until Lewis beat her to within an inch of her life that she finally said, no more.
Michael didn't want that for Peyton. She was the sweetest, most giving person he knew. He didn’t want her to have to deal with his overprotectiveness. And he didn't want to risk her going through all that his mother had experienced.
“A car will be here to pick you up at—”
“Did you hear me?” She pounded against his chest with a closed fist. “I’m not leaving!”
He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips.
“You have to, Peyton. What if the type of anger I felt when seeing your ex-husband’s hands on you transforms, and somehow screws up my head? What if I come after you? What if I put my hands on you?” The thought twisted in his gut. He didn’t trust himself. He couldn’t take the chance. Michael released her hand and stepped back. “If you don’t leave today, then I’m leaving.”
Peyton reared back as if she’d been slapped, her eyes growing big. “What are you talking about?”
“If you don’t leave here, I’ll take my daughter and leave. I won’t return until I know that you’re safe in Cincinnati.”
Her mouth dropped opened. “This is crazy, Michael. Why are you doing this? Why are you walking away from what we have, what we’ve built?” She cried, stomping her feet, frustration bouncing off of her. She paced the room like a caged animal, a look of disbelief on her face and pain in her eyes.
“I have to do this, Peyton, and I need you to go home.” Despite his words, he didn’t want her to leave. The reality of knowing he might never see her again was killing him. “Just know that I love you.”
“Then don’t do this,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. Most of the fight seemed to have left her. “Please don’t do this.”
Michael walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Even when she swung the door open and ran down the stairs after him, he kept moving until he was out the front door, no destination in mind.
Chapter Twenty
Peyton roamed around her partially vacant home feeling lost. A month had passed since she’d left New York and there were moments when she still couldn't believe she and Michael were over. He loved her. She knew he loved her. If only he could conquer his fears.
“It’s over. Move on,” she mumbled to herself. She’d spoken the words many times, by now they should’ve been engrained in her head. But her heart couldn’t let him go, wouldn’t let him go.
Nick, bumping around upstairs, grabbed her attention. He and some of her other cousins came over earlier to help move her furniture and some boxes to a storage unit. Moving on from Michael was harder than it had been with Dylan. She had played around with the idea of selling her home months ago and knew now she had to. She couldn’t stay in the house. Too many memories, good and bad. She was moving in with Jada and Zach, who were traveling so much, they were rarely home. She didn’t plan to stay with them long, just long enough to decide her next steps.
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