My dad blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, Icantell you this, I’m not about to say anything to her father. I know he likes you because you’re my son, but I hope you and Peyton figure something out. Our big Christmas party is in less than a month. Hopefully, things aren’t going to be awkward between you two.”
“Yeah, I hope not either. Because it sure as hell is right now.”
My dad stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. I have no doubt.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s late, and you’ve been drinking. Do you want just to stay the night?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, looking up at him. “I might stay out here for a while, clear my head.”
He patted my shoulder. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, or later this morning to be exact.”
Once he was gone, I closed my eyes and listened to the waves. I tried to think of something other than Peyton, but nothing worked. I had a feeling nothing would.
CHAPTER6
PEYTON
It felt good to be in my own room and not in some hotel. I thought sleep would come quickly, but my mind was racing. I had two months to spend in California, and I had no clue how I wanted to utilize that time. Reagan was on her honeymoon, and I didn’t want to monopolize her when she returned, especially since she was a newlywed. Of course, there was always my mother, but I was around her often. I was pretty sure she’d want me to spend time at Fightanium, but that was where Ethan would be.
It’d been hours since he left, and his kiss still burned my lips. I didn’t know what to do about him. If he hadn’t broken away from the kiss and left, I would’ve been happy to sneak away to my bedroom for another round. We were safe from prying eyes behind closed doors, safe from the media who’d no doubt tear us apart. If there were a way to keep our relationship hidden, I’d do it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask that of Ethan. It was best to let whatever transpired between us fizzle out.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. I was too tired to get up and turn on my soothing music player. I could really use the calming sound of a babbling brook right about now. So instead, I closed my eyes and snuggled into my pillow, pulling my covers up under my chin. Everything was eerily quiet around me. I could hear the ocean waves outside my window if I listened closely. I concentrated on that for a bit longer, and it wasn’t far after that I began to feel the drift of sleep. I welcomed it.
But then, my eyes shot open when a sound I recognized all too well echoed down the hall. My front door always made a slight creaking noise when it opened, and I knew I had just heard it. With my heart racing erratically, I could feel my fight or flight response kick in. The adrenaline rushed through me so fast that I thought my chest would explode. Even my body broke out in an ice-cold sweat.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I quickly slid out of bed and hid behind my bedroom door. There was no escape from my bedroom unless I opened the window and jumped out, but I’d surely break my legs if I did that.
It was hard to concentrate with the pounding in my ears, but I did hear the click of the front door shutting. Someonewasin my apartment.
“Fuck,” I hissed. My hands shook as I pressed 9-1-1 on my cell.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” the operator called out.
I didn’t know if she’d be able to hear me, but I whispered the words as low and as fast as I could. “Someone just broke into my apartment. My name’s Peyton Emerson.” I recited my address and sucked in a shaky breath. “Please send help now.”
I hung up just as I could hear the telltale sound of footsteps creeping down the hall. Sweat poured down my back and beaded along my forehead. I was terrified, and I didn’t know what to do. I only knew that whoever was in my apartment wasn’t there with innocent intentions. All I needed was a weapon. Glancing hastily around my room, the only thing I could see as being somewhat of a defense mechanism was the glass vase on the dresser right near me; it contained one of my favorite succulent plants.
Setting my phone down on the dresser, I snatched up the vase, the glass cold as ice against my hands. All I had to do was escape out of my room and out the front door. I’d figure everything else out as it came. The footsteps drew closer, and I held my breath as a figure stood in my doorway. It was dark, but I knew it was a man by his build. I could see him through the crack at the side of the door. I was so scared I felt sick, my stomach turning in painful knots. The man stepped into my room, a low growl hissing from his lips when he noticed the empty bed. It was now or never; I had to strike.
Raising the vase high, I charged after him and slammed it onto his skull. The glass exploded and shattered all over my floor. The intruder dropped to his knees, but he was in my escape path.
“Fucking cunt!” he shouted. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
I jumped past him, but he grabbed my ankle and I slammed onto the floor, the breath whooshing out of my lungs with the pain. I gasped for air, but I couldn’t get any in. It felt as if I was going to suffocate. Panic consumed me and I thrashed around, struggling to find my strength even though I couldn’t breathe. But then, the pain ebbed, and I sucked in a breath. The man tried to slide me across the floor toward him, but I kicked as hard as I could at his face, his shoulders, everywhere.
“Someone help me!” I screamed. “Help me!”
The fear had been replaced with anger. This man had come into my home to do God knows what to me. I wanted him to hurt, to know he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. My hand brushed across a shard of glass, a piece about the size of my palm. It tore my skin in my haste to grab it, but it was my only saving grace. The man pulled me closer, his hands all over my body.
“Get off me!” I screamed, punching him with my left fist. The shard was in my right hand, and I sliced the glass across his cheek, neck, forehead, and everywhere I could until he backed away, wailing in agony. His blood was all over my hands, and I fought the urge to throw up. I had to get out of there.
Dropping the glass shard, I raced down the hallway and out the front door, right into the arms of another man. His arms latched around me, and I screamed.“Let me go! Someone help me!”
“Peyton, it’s me,” a familiar voice shouted. “It’s Brian. I’m your neighbor downstairs.”
Tears clouded my vision, but I couldn’t wipe them away because of the blood on my hands. My mind was a jumbled mess, but I knew Brian was a police officer.