A/N: Hey guys, thanks as always for reading, and for your comments. Here's the next one. Hope you enjoy.
...
"Well?" Peyton pushed once Nathan fell silent once more for several long moments.
Nathan heaved a great sigh. The noose was not what he wanted to explain to her. She was never meant to find out about that. No one was. He'd only told Brooke about it because he'd had no choice. He'd been cuffed to a hospital bed in the psyche ward at the time, and it was either tell Brooke about it or have his parents find it when they went in his closet to pack him a bag.
Of course, she'd ended up pointing it out to them anyway, making telling her pointless. He should have just kept his mouth shut. Telling Brooke had only caused him more aggravation. Certainly Peyton wouldn't be questioning him on it now if he had kept it from the brunette, even if it didn't come straight out of her mouth, like Peyton said. He knew it was still somehow through Brooke that Peyton had learned of it.
"Nate," Peyton once again urged, a little more impatiently now.
He sighed again and shook his head. "Do we really have to do this, Peyt?" he asked, his tone desperate. "I've already talked this subject to fucking death with Brooke and my parents, and that damn therapist went at it from every angle you could possibly think of."
"Therapist?" Peyton asked, her brow rising curiously.
He shrugged. "Mandatory counselling from when I landed in hospital," he answered. "I had to see a shrink every day while I was on suicide watch and I still have to go once a week."
"Oh," she replied. "How's that going?" she asked sarcastically. He parents had tried to force a therapist on her too, but she simply refused to open up to a complete stranger who got paid to listen to people's deepest, darkest emotions. She didn't need that. And she well knew Nathan wouldn't be thrilled about mandatory counselling either. He had a hard time showing his emotions with her sometimes, let alone some shrink taking notes as he speaks. She could imagine that he, like she had, let the therapist do all the talking as he sat in silence, refusing to answer her questions.
He surprised her with his answer. "It's ok, I guess," he said. "But I'm fucking talked out about that stupid noose," he added. "What does it even matter anymore? I'm over it now."
So he had talked to the therapist. But he didn't want to talk to her. "You said you wanted to explain," she reminded him tightly.
"Not about that," he replied simply.
He couldn't know how much that hurt her, but she would certainly tell him. "You'd rather talk to someone who makes her paycheck listening to people's problems than to your own girlfriend, who, I'm sorry, actually loves you?"
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I never wanted to talk about it at all. I just wanted to sort it all out in my head, but I didn't have a choice. The longer I didn't talk, the longer they kept me on suicide watch. I already had to stay two weeks longer than they originally said because I wouldn't say anything. I wanted out of there, Peyton," he tried to make her understand. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated.
She nodded and reached for his hand, showing him she got it. He shot her an appreciative smile, and she smiled back before she spoke again. "But Nate," she said. "I want...I need...you to be able to tell me what you're going through, what you went through. Don't shut me out."
"I'm not trying to," he replied. "Peyt, you know I usually tell you everything."
"I know. Don't stop now. Everything includes the noose, Nate. If you really don't wanna tell me, I won't push it, but I think we have to lay it all out there, Nathan, or else what are we even doing here? How are we ever gonna make it as a couple if we can't talk to each other?"
He bowed his head, swallowing hard. He knew she was right, but he still wished he could bypass this entire part of the conversation.
But he knew he couldn't. She wanted answers. She expected answers. And even more than that, she deserved answers. He finally nodded and took a deep breath before beginning. "First you have to understand how it all started," he said.
She nodded and waited in silence for him to continue.
"At first the burns on my arms hurt, really bad," he said. "But I didn't wanna get rid of any of that pain. I didn't take the pain meds I was prescribed or put any salve on, or hell, even drink alcohol to numb it. I wanted to feel every bit of pain I was in."
"Why, Nathan?"
"Because I felt like I deserved it for all the pain I caused everyone else."
"Nate..."
He raised a hand to shush her. "You wanted to hear this," he pointed out. "It's not exactly easy to talk about so just, please just let me finish before you say anything, ok?"
"Ok."
"After a few days, the pain I was already in didn't seem like enough. I figured I deserved more so I started picking at the burns on my arms with a razor blade. Every time they'd start to scab over, I'd rip them open again so they'd never heal."
She couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes, but she simply nodded as he went on.
"But even that was only enough for a little while. I started going deeper so it would bleed more, and when I ran out of scars on my arms, I just went to other places on my body and cut through regular skin."
He felt her squeeze his hand, encouraging him to go on.
"But it didn't help," he said. "No matter how much I hurt, I couldn't seem to make up for what I did."
"Which is?" Peyton couldn't help asking.
"Raping Haley. Getting you raped."
"Nate, no..."
"Just listen," he repeated a little impatiently. "In my head, I was a monster. I mean, Haley was a virgin," he said. "Until I screwed that up, which I wouldn't even care about if she'd wanted to have sex with me, but she didn't. And then the way I went off on her at the police station and in court, and how completely petrified she was when I confronted her in the tutor centre. She was so scared she was shaking, and I just kept taunting her because I thought it was funny. It still kills me to think about that."
"Then don't think about it," Peyton had to comment. "Nathan, all you knew at the time was that she'd falsely accused you of rape and how it turned your life upside down."
"Yeah," he agreed solemnly. "Finding excuses for my behavior is not really what I'm looking for here," he said dryly.
"It's not excuses, it's what happened," she replied defensively. She hated that he felt so guilty for something he wasn't to blame for. However, when he shot her a warning look, she remembered she was supposed to be just listening, and closed her mouth to keep her from voicing her concerns. She sent him an apologetic smile and nodded her head to tell him to keep going.
"So anyway, I kept up with the cutting, going deeper and deeper every time, which is how I ended up in the hospital, by the way. I accidently hit an artery."
So he really hadn't tried to kill himself, she acknowledged silently.
He could see her mind racing as she took in the information he was revealing. He knew she realized in that moment that suicide hadn't been his goal. But he could also understand the questions in those gorgeous green eyes of hers. She was trying to make sense of things that just made no sense. He would try to explain as best he could.
"I did think about suicide before that though," he disclosed. "I hung the noose up," he said, finally getting to that. "so that I'd be ready if there ever came a time where I couldn't handle the pain anymore."
He took in her reaction. She stared at him, her eyes soft and misty, so full of compassion and love.
"I thought about it every day for about three weeks," he told her. "About how everyone would be so much better off if I just offed myself already. Everywhere I go, I hurt people, most of the time on purpose."
"Nathan..."
"So one day," he cut her off. "I hung the rope up. Believe it or not, having it there actually made me feel a little better."
"Yeah?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Except that was a problem because, like I said before, I didn't want to feel better so that just made me go deeper with the blade. And you know, it's weird, after a while I barely even felt it anymore, which..."
"Made it worse," Peyton guessed.
Nodding his head, he replied, "Exactly. I cut even deeper and then one day I went too far, passed out on my floor and woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed."
"You were chained for your own protection."
He nodded agreeably. "Yeah, but here's the thing. When I fell on the floor, I was terrified and I realized right then that I didn't want to die. Of course my parents and the hospital staff had no way of knowing that, hence the chains for two and a half weeks."
"So, you're saying you don't have those suicidal thoughts anymore? That you're all better now? Even with the cutting thing?"
He took a deep breath and answered honestly. "All better's probably pushing it," he said. "I mean, I still got a lot of things to work through, but yeah, I'm getting there. I don't think about wanting to die anymore."
"That's good," Peyton replied.
"You?" he took her off guard by asking.
"Me?"
"Yeah," he said. "Any more thoughts of swallowing a handful of pills?"
"We're talking about you."
"So, that's a yes then?"
She wasn't answering him and he didn't like it. "Peyton," he called sternly, and waited for her to look at him before he went on. "This whole' lay it all out there' deal can't only apply to me. It has to go both ways."
"I know," she agreed reluctantly. "Listen, all I can tell you is that, today, I feel a hundred percent better."
"So yesterday...?"
"I wanted to be dead, yeah," she told him. "Yesterday I didn't have you," she added reasonably. "I do have you, right? I'm assuming this is us getting back together?"
"That's up to you."
"No, Nate. You're the one who broke it off. I never wanted us apart."
"I didn't either, Peyton. It's just everything was all screwed up in my head. I was drowning and I thought it was the right thing to do."
"And now?"
" Now I know what a stupid mistake that was," he replied. " I don't want to be without you. I can't be without you, and I'm really sorry I pushed you away."
"I know you are, baby," she said. "Did you just wanna know how it felt to be the one dumping me for a change?" she tried to joke.
He offered a small smile. "Yeah, I guess. Didn't feel so good," he admitted.
"Good to know. Maybe you'll think about that next time."
Next time? Hell, there wasn't gonna be a next time. "But Peyt..." he began, then stopped abruptly.
"What?" she asked. "What is it?"
"Look, I didn't mean most of what I said earlier..."
"I know that."
"But the thing about putting your attempted suicide on me, I did mean it when I said that's too much. I can't be held responsible for that and it's not fair for you to blame me like that."
"Like I told you, Nate, I don't blame you. It just so happens that I love you, you goof, and I can't live without you."
He didn't laugh. He didn't see the humour. "Sounds the same as blame to me."
"Well, it's not," she said with a shrug of her small shoulders. "I don't know what else to tell you. It's just not. Got it?"
"Yeah," he answered, though he didn't sound convinced. "But I mean, I can't be the reason you live or die. That's too much responsibility for anyone, let alone a screw up like me."
"Hey, you might be a screw up, but you're my screw up," she teased.
"Very funny," he grumbled.
"Look, Nate, you're blowing this up bigger than it needs to be," she reasoned. "I promised you in the house that I would never try that again, and I meant it. So stop stressing over something we've already cleared up. Ok, babe?"
"Yeah, ok," he said with a nod of his head.
"Ok, good. Now how about we put all suicide thoughts and attempts in the past where it belongs?"
"Never talk about it again, you mean?"
"Is it history? We both promised no more, right?"
"Right."
"Then yeah, no more dwelling on it. Leave it in the past as it should be. What do you say?"
"Sounds good," he said truthfully.
"To me too. But I do need to ask you something?" she added.
"Shoot."
"When you were going through all that stuff, hurting so bad, why didn't you come to me with it? You didn't have to be alone."
"I told you, I didn't think I deserved it."
"But why? I don't understand that. What made you think, even for a second that I was better off without you?" she asked, recalling how he'd said those words in the house the first time.
"You're kidding, right?" he scoffed. "Peyton, after everything I've put you through since we started dating..."
"No, don't go there," she warned sternly. "We had already worked through all our issues and past mistakes. We were happy, Nate. We got engaged even, so don't make this about way back when. This is about that day in the boiler room and every day from then and don't say it's not."
He swallowed hard, but nodded agreeably.
She scooted closer to him and put a hand on his leg. Despite their conversation thus far and their reconciliation, she was still so hurt and confused by his actions lately. "Why did you just give up on us, Nate? Why didn't you feel like we could get through it together?"
He was quiet a long time before finally shaking his head. "I don't know, Peyt. I was in a really dark place. I wasn't thinking straight."
"Straight enough to try to keep it from me," she pointed out. "You didn't even want me to know about any of it. Why not?"
So much for leaving it in the past, he thought dully. That had lasted less than a minute. "Probably for the same reason you didn't want me to know, Peyton. I didn't want you to know I'd sunk that low."
He glanced away and looked down as he spoke those words. He couldn't face her with this confession. He had fallen further than he ever had, and just admitting to all of it was a kind of hell in itself.
She saw the look that crossed his handsome features. He'd averted his gaze quickly, but not quickly enough that she hadn't spotted the shame etched across his face. It melted away any ounce of anger she was holding onto. "I know what you mean," she told him, fully understanding the dark hole he'd fallen into. "But, baby, you don't have to feel ashamed. And even if you do, you don't have to hide it from me."
"From you is who I want to hide it from the most," he admitted softly. "I don't care what anyone else thinks, but you...it matters what you think."
"I get that, Nate," she nearly whispered. "I feel the same with you," she told him. "But understand this, Nathan. There is nothing...nothing...you could do that would change how I feel about you. I'm gonna love you on your good days and your bad days."
"I know that," he said, fully aware. "But that doesn't mean you can't be disappointed in me. Or upset over some of the shit I pull."
"No, but hey, that's gonna happen, right?" she said. "I'm gonna screw up, you're gonna screw up . We're gonna get pissed off at each other, and yeah, sometimes we'll disappoint each other. That's just life, Nate. We're human. We make mistakes. I'm sure there are plenty more to come, but if we stick it out together...if we let each other all the way in through the highs and the lows, then I really believe we can get through anything. Don't you?"
He threw her a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You know you're usually the one freezing me out, right?"
"It's a work in progress," she replied, causing a quick chuckle to escape his lips.
"Don't worry, Peyton," he said. "I've learned my lesson on pushing you away. It won't be happening again anytime soon. Or ever, actually."
"No?" she asked, staring at him intently.
He shook his head to confirm.
"Well then," she began apprehensively, her hand reaching out and resting on the hem of his t-shirt at his wrist. "Can I see?"
His head snapped up to meet her pleading eyes. "Why?" he croaked.
"Because I love you," she replied softly. "And because I don't want you to feel ashamed with me." Her fingers remained resting at his wrist. She wasn't going to look unless he made it clear it was okay.
His gaze never leaving hers, he swallowed the lump in his throat, finally nodding ever so subtly.
"Yeah?" she asked, to be sure.
He nodded more firmly the second time and moved his own hand to help her roll up the opposite sleeve, repeating the process with the other.
Her first instinct when she saw the marks was to gasp in horror, but she wisely held that back. Nathan was embarrassed enough as it was. "It's bad," she settled with.
"It actually looks worse than what it is," he revealed. "It's mostly just the burn marks now that have to heal. The doctors said it might take a while before those fade."
Her hand came up to run her fingers over the scars, but she hesitated. "Does it hurt?" she wanted to know.
"Not so much anymore," he replied with a shrug as he watched her intently. God, how could he have ever thought he could handle life without her? Considering his downward spiral the past few months, he obviously couldn't. "Go ahead," he told her. "You won't hurt me," he told her trustfully.
She caressed his arms ever so gently with the tips of her fingers. She felt like crying again. He'd been going through hell and she hadn't been there to help him. He hadn't let her. But also his burns brought forward the fact that she had been completely out of it for quite some time in the boiler room, for she didn't remember any of that happening. Brooke had told her what she'd missed-most of it anyway-so Peyton knew how Damien had forced Lucas to inflict those burns on Nathan.
The thought of it made her shudder in revulsion and her stomach tied in tight knots. How could everyone, herself included, have missed the psychopath that was Damien West? The memory of his hands on her, how the drugs he'd forced her to take had made her compliant to his touch, made her feel sick. Though she wasn't conscious for Nathan and Lucas' retaliation, she'd been told about it as well, and she was glad for it. She knew Nathan's temper would compel him to strike back with brutal force, and helping him had been Lucas, who, unlike Nathan, was slow to anger, but certainly capable of causing damage once he'd hit that point.
She knew they'd hurt Damien bad, and that his burns, covering a great portion of his body, likely still pained him a whole lot and would probably scar for life. Nathan's burns, minor by comparison, would eventually fade into nothing or practically nothing. Not so for Damien. Nathan and Lucas' revenge would there to remind him for all of his days.
The idea of the constant reminder brought a small smile to Peyton's beautiful face. Damien would never be able to forget that the Scott boys had bested him once again. It must really irk him to know Nathan and Luke had gotten away with it, the police having put it down to self-defence on their parts.
That nearly made her giggle out loud. She hadn't even been conscious for it and yet even she knew that what the Scott boys had done to Damien was much more about pay back than self-defence. Surely the cops must realize that, but for whatever reason, they'd let it slide. Maybe because they understood the rage that certainly coursed through their bodies for all Damien had done.
"What are you thinking about?" Nathan cut into her thoughts when she silently inspected his wounds for several minutes.
"Nothing important," she answered. "So these..." she began, indicating his burn marks. "You're not busting them open anymore?"
"No."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise."
"Ok. And you're putting the cream on and everything?"
"Yeah," he replied, with more patience than she'd generally give him credit for. "Well, my mom has actually kinda taken on the nursing role," he told her, matter-of-factly. "I could do it myself but it makes her feel good and stuff so whatever," he added with a careless shrug.
Deb. Peyton thought back to when she'd stood outside the hospital waiting for Nathan after he'd been released. He and Deb had exited the doors, both laughing. Of course, his smile had died when he'd spotted Peyton, which had made her resentful at the time-that for his mother, whom he'd always claimed to hate, he smiled, but for her, who he said he loved, he frowned.
Somewhere in their time apart, Nathan had made amends with his mother. Peyton shook off the bitter feeling it gave her, and in its wake came a feeling of pure sadness for missing such a monumental moment in Nathan's life. When had he forgiven her for all her past grievances. Peyton had to ask, though she treaded carefully. "So, you're getting along with your Mom now?" she asked in an attempt to sound casual. "When did that happen?"
"We had a long talk in the hospital," he explained before shrugging his shoulders and going on. "We both apologized..."
"Why you?" Peyton questioned defensively. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I treated her pretty bad, Peyton," he countered.
"For good reason."
He smiled a little. His girl, always so protective of him. He loved that. "I didn't help the situation by being such a jackass to her."
"It wasn't up to you to fix the situation..." Peyton began, but Nathan cut her off.
"Even so," he said with a chuckle before she could go on. "I feel like she deserved an apology, a little for the past, but mostly for all the crap I've put both my parents through lately. I think they've been on pins and needles, worrying about me the past few weeks, wondering what I'm gonna pull next."
"You were hurting. What do they expect? Besides, they're your parents. They're supposed to worry about you."
"I know, Peyton, but this was way beyond what any parent should have to worry about, don't you think?"
"I guess."
"You think I shouldn't be sorry?"
"I think you shouldn't feel guilty for feeling what you were feeling."
"It's not about what I was feeling," he contradicted. "It's about how I acted, the things I did while I was feeling what I was feeling. I shouldn't have put them through that."
She didn't respond, deciding to let it go. She knew what he was saying. She just couldn't bring herself to agree with him. She realized she may be in the wrong here.
"Anyway," Nathan went on. "I did apologize and so did she. She cried, of course..."
"Why do you say 'of course'?" she wanted to know.
He was caught off guard by the question, but still he answered it. "Well, cause...you know, cause she's a girl, and that's what girls do when you go all serious on them."
"Oh, is that right?" she asked, suddenly amused. "And this opinion is based on..."
He stared at her and a slow smile spread across his face. "You," he told her. Who else would he base it on? The only other girls he'd had serious conversations with, if you could call them conversations, was him saying 'yeah, I'm bored now. See ya.' Or something of the sort. And while most of those girls had also cried, it wasn't what he referred to when he said 'serious'. Those conversations were reserved for Peyton alone. Oh, and apparently his mom now too.
Peyton chuckled and let that one go as well. What else could she do? Deny she was an emotional mess often times? Yeah, Nathan certainly knew better.
What he didn't know was that it hurt Peyton to hear he'd finally made a connection with his mother and she'd missed it. Despite her view on the all-around apologies, she was happy for Nathan. But still, she'd missed it. And if Nathan knew how it affected her to her very core, he wouldn't have been so quick to tell her that if that surprised her, wait till she heard that he was also getting along with Lucas.
"Lucas," she repeated, her jaw dropping.
He laughed heartily. "See, I told ya you'd be shocked," he said in amusement.
"Nathan, that's awesome," she said. It really was, but yet another good thing to happen in her absence. She couldn't help wonder if she'd somehow been hampering this progress in him. She'd never know.
He shrugged indifferently and nodded his head. "Yeah, I mean, it's not like we're bosom buddies or anything..."
"Yet."
"I'm definitely starting to think it might be cool to have a big brother," he said agreeably.
"That's really great, Nate," she said. "I'm so proud of you," she added honestly.
The comment, as it always did when she said those words to him, made him smile. "Thanks," he said. "Pretty handy too," he went on. "having my brother haul my drunk ass to his place before my parents see me," he joked.
But she knew it wasn't just a joke, that that had actually happened. "Handy for sure," she agreed.
"Yeah," he said, unaware of how much of this information upset her. "Speaking of handy, did you know he has a door in his bedroom that leads to outside? How fucking great is that?"
"Pretty damn convenient for sneaking out," she replied.
"Exactly. " He could have spared himself so many injuries over the years jumping out from his second floor window, if only he'd had a door like Lucas had. And been on the first floor, of course.
"I'm glad you're finally giving him a chance, Nate," she said sincerely.
"More like he's giving me a chance," Nathan corrected. "I don't get it, but even after everything I've done, him and Haley are all like, 'yeah, everything's cool, stay for breakfast'. Guess they don't hold grudges."
"Unlike you," Peyton pointed out.
"And you," he pointed back.
"I don't hold grudges."
"Yeah, you totally do."
"Name one. See you can't," she said triumphantly when he fell silent.
"You're still mad at what's her name for hitting on me at that party before we were even going out," he finally thought of one.
"What's her name?" she teased. It actually made her happy that he didn't remember her name. To him she'd just been some random girl, but to Peyton she'd been a friend who betrayed her. She was nothing to her ever since. "Her name is Patricia Smithson, " she informed him.
"Whatever," he said, uncaring.
"And that's not a grudge. That was her breaking the girl code and me deciding I didn't need a friend like that."
"But we weren't even dating," he repeated.
"She knew I liked you so it still counts."
"Apparently she liked me too, so maybe you broke the girl code."
"Oh, you're funny," she said with sarcastic humour. "She didn't like you. She just wanted to get to you before I did."
"Which she didn't," Nathan reminded her.
"No she didn't," Peyton remembered with a satisfied smile. "Cindi Peters did. She's the one you hooked up with that night," she recalled further.
"How do you remember that far back?" he wanted to know. And every single detail?
"I was devastated, Nathan. But at least I wasn't friends with Cindi. That made it easier."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think you liked me. I asked you out a hundred times before that."
"I know. My fault. Ancient history, you're all mine now."
"Always will be," he added sweetly.
"So, you said you talked to Haley too?" she asked, changing the subject.
He nodded his head. "Yeah. She actually apologized to me, if you can believe that."
"As well she should have," Peyton replied. "She did put you through hell."
"Not as much hell as I put her through," he argued.
"Hell is hell, Nate."
"It wasn't her fault."
"Nor yours."
"I know," he acknowledged. "She managed to convince me of that. Everyone else kept saying the same thing, but..."
"It had to come from her," Peyton finished knowingly. Of course it had to come from Haley. Nathan would feel guilty until the one person he saw as his 'victim' told him not to. Peyton completely understood that.
"Yeah," Nathan answered. "Plus she really pushed me to come to you and make things right. Not that I didn't want to all along, but like I said before, I was in a real bad place."
"So, I guess I have another thing to thank her for," Peyton said. "Looks like she saved my life twice," she added, referring, one, to what she'd been told about the boiler room-how Haley had stepped up to protect her, and two, for directing Nathan back to her. Whatever she'd said to him had clearly worked for here he was making amends. Peyton couldn't be more grateful. And obviously Nathan couldn't either.
But Peyton knew Haley had reason to be grateful too. She may not have been conscious for a good part of the boiler room events, but Haley herself had told her how Nathan had stuck his foot out on time to keep Damien from shooting her point blank. Peyton wasn't about to let him forget that, especially when he still felt so down on himself. "I hear you saved her from getting shot in the boiler room."
Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, he replied casually. "It was nothing."
"I doubt Haley thinks that," Peyton argued. "Nate it is huge deal, ok? Don't trivialize it."
"No, I'm not. But I mean it's not anything anyone else wouldn't have done."
"But you're the one who did it," she said sternly. "You should be proud. I know I am."
Again, he smiled at that. No matter how many times she said it, he loved hearing it. They weren't words he heard very often from anyone other than her.
But he could see in her face that all wasn't right with her. "If you're so proud of me, why do you look like I did something wrong?"
"No, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Peyton..." he urged her to tell him the truth.
Damn, he knew her too well, could read her so easily. Okay, not usually immediately, but always eventually. "It's nothing you did. Not really. It's not even anything that should be wrong."
He cocked an eyebrow and waited for the explanation to follow.
She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's nothing, Nate. It's just...it's not important."
"Tell me," he insisted, sensing that it was important. At least to her.
"You're gonna say I'm being such a girl."
"I'm ok with you being a girl. In fact, I prefer it," he joked.
"Or you'll say it's ridiculous."
"Come on, I won't."
"You will, and you know what? You'd be right because I feel ridiculous for being upset over..."
"Over what? Just spill it, Peyt."
"Fine," she said with an eye roll. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Stalling."
She exhaled sharply and let the words out. "I just feel like I missed out on some major moments in your life. Not even just the bad stuff, but the good stuff too. You're on good terms with your mom, and even Lucas...I wanted to be there for all of that, but I missed it. You did it without me. See, I told you it was stupid."
She waited for his reaction, not expecting the rumble of laughter that came from his chest. Great, she'd poured her heart out and he was amused. "God, I knew I shouldn't have told you," she said in a snit. "It figures you think it's funny."
"No, it's not funny, I promise."
"Explains why you're still laughing."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he tried to appease her. "It's just you look so damn cute right now, with your cheeks all red and everything..."
"Fantastic," she muttered sarcastically. "Nathan, I'm serious. I feel like I was holding you back or something, and if I was, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to..."
"You weren't," he said, his face somber now. "It just worked out that way, Peyton. And I get what you're saying, ok? You wanted to be there, I know."
"Yeah," she responded with a pout.
He chuckled once more. If she wanted him to be serious, she was gonna have to stop being cute. Or he had to look away. The hard punch she gave his leg worked too. "Ow!"
"You deserved it."
"Alright," he conceded. "I'm sorry I went and did that stuff without you."
"Thank you."
"But, you know, I'll still need you to make sure I don't screw things up with them. You know me, I'm bound to fuck up somewhere down the line."
"That is true," she agreed.
"And also, you know how you said there's nothing I could do to make you not love me?"
Now she chuckled. She'd said those words maybe three minutes ago. Did he expect she'd forgotten already? "I do," she replied simply.
"Well, I feel the same way with you. Even if you're being a bitch or whatever, I still love you."
"Thanks," she replied caustically.
"And when you're being ridiculous I still love you then too."
She hit him again, playfully this time.
"And when you're being all abusive, I love you even more," he joked.
"Haha."
"But seriously, Peyt, I mean it. I need you in my life. Always."
"I know. Me too, baby."
"Can I ask you something?" he asked, his tone considerably more sombre.
"Yeah, of course," she said, noticing the instant change in his demeanor.
"The ring," he said. "You're not wearing it?"
Was that a question? He could clearly see she didn't wear it on her finger, nor was she wearing the necklace she usually had it clasped to in order to hide it from her parents. "Do you want me to?" she asked him cautiously.
He took a deep breath before answering. "I still want what I wanted before," he told her. "But I'll understand if you don't wanna marry me anymore..."
She put soft fingers to his lips to shush him. "Nathan Scott, I would become your wife right now if I could," she told him, her heart full and her eyes tearing up. "I will put the necklace back on as soon as I get back in the house," she promised him. "I only took it off because I didn't think it was what you wanted anymore, and every time I looked at it or felt it, my heart just broke to pieces all over again and..."
"I'm sorry," he said to her once again. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Peyton."
"I know you are. It's ok."
"It's not," he insisted. "But it's gonna be. I swear I'm gonna be a better guy from now on. Sounds like the same old bullshit, I know..."
"It doesn't, actually," she told him. Same words he often used, yes, but so very different too. She could tell they came from deep in his soul this time, he just didn't have the literary means to say what he truly felt inside so he used past phrases he used to throw at her just to have her back, hoping that she would be able to see the difference.
She did. Of course she did. They would really make it this time. She knew it with every fibre of her being.
He must have felt it too for he smiled a little and his gaze grew more intent. "I really want to kiss you right now," he said huskily. "Is that ok?"
She didn't know why on earth he asked permission. It was certainly never his habit to do so, but it seemed he wasn't going to act without the go-ahead from her. She didn't give him consent, instead just crashed her lips onto his, practically demanding a response from him, though the demand was not necessary. He was more than willing to take her mouth with his.
Her mouth opened when his tongue glided against her bottom lip, silently begging for access. She gave it to him eagerly, not having realized, until that very moment, just how much she craved his kiss.
Nathan couldn't get enough of the sweet taste of her as his lips pressed harder, more urgently, against hers. This was definitely something he could never do without, and he'd been a fool to think he could all these months. More than anything, the lack of this...having Peyton in his arms...was what had sent his life spiralling out of control. Never again.
He felt the blissful stirring of desire ripple through his body the moment their lips touched, and by the time their tongues entwined, he was rock hard. Ahh yes, their make-up sessions were always the best and, normally at this point, he would be just minutes away from plunging himself deep inside her velvety crevice.
Unfortunately, he would have to quell those rising sexual urges today. He couldn't very well take her in her driveway with her parents most likely peering out the window. His breathing laboured, he tried hard to just kiss her and ignore the pulsating sensation pushing firmly against his jeans.
But it was almost impossible when she kissed him back with such fervour, such passion. "I want you," he said hoarsely as his lips left hers to whisper in her ear, following that with a trail of kisses down her neck. Maybe they could take a drive somewhere. He was definitely up for that.
Peyton felt the heat from his body radiating through hers. She too was on fire. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. It was only when his seeking hand found her inner thigh that her mind took her to a place she didn't want to go.
All of a sudden, she was back in the boiler room, and it was Damien's hands and lips on her. Touching her. Caressing her.
But just as suddenly, there was nothing but a chill running down her spine. She snapped out of her memory, momentarily dazed.
Nathan was sat back against the seat, his hands, roaming freely just moments before, now resting at his sides as his eyes just stared at her blankly.
Her brows knit in confusion as she looked at him, her own eyes questioning. "What's wrong?" she asked him. "Why'd you stop?"
It was his turn to be confused now. "You told me to," he informed her.
For a moment, she was stumped. She hadn't told him to stop. Had she? The look on Nathan's face said he spoke the truth. And why else would he have suddenly stopped? It hit her then what must have happened. Apparently, not only did she talk in her sleep, but also in an unwanted state of memory recall.
Damn it, she silently cursed herself. It was bad enough that she remembered it all in the first place, let alone while she was with Nathan. And even worse was mixing the two up. How the hell did her subconscious mind confuse Nathan's touch with Damien's? They were totally different. Damien's she repelled-the memory of his hands and mouth, not to mention another certain organ, made her want to vomit. But Nathan's she wanted it, welcomed it, craved it even.
So then how had this just happened? And how was she going to answer for it? Nathan looked at her, his eyes wondering, but what was she supposed to tell him? 'Oh, sorry, I thought you were Damien there for a sec?' No, she couldn't do that. Not only would that be a blow to his ego, but it would also likely make him feel even guiltier for what he still partially blamed himself for.
But she had to say something because Nathan looked worried and he'd just asked her if she was okay.
She bit her nail and tried to think of some plausible explanation for her sudden retreat. Unfortunately, she had nothing. "Umm, yeah, I don't...I'm not really sure what happened there. I must have dozed off or something." God, that was horrible. Like that wouldn't wound his pride at all, she thought caustically. Nice going, Peyton.
Nathan thought it was terrible too, but not because of his pride. Because she'd just come up with a lie on the spot, and she wasn't very good at it. "Dozed off?" he repeated distrustfully. "That happen a lot?" he asked, his tone dripping sarcasm.
Okay, clearly he didn't believe her, but she attempted to answer his question all the same. "It does, actually. Yeah, I don't sleep well these days so I tend to nod off just anywhere. Sorry about that."
"You're not telling me the truth," he said point blankly. "Why not?"
She tried to laugh it off. "What do you mean? Nathan, I'm telling the truth..."
"I'm not an idiot, Peyt," he cut her off to say. True, two minutes ago, he was that idiot, thinking the only thing keeping them from their customary make-up sex was the possibility of her parents catching them. Dumb ass, he cussed himself. Apparently, being a better guy was going to be a lot of work for him. "You were thinking about the rape," he flat out said, more as a statement than a question.
She shook her head to deny it, but he spoke before she could.
"Is this how it's gonna be between us from now on?" he asked. "You say be open so that I tell you everything, but you're allowed to keep secrets? Cause I tell you right now, Peyton, that's not gonna work for me."
She closed her eyes guiltily. Yes, he had shared everything, even those sensitive things he would have rather kept to himself. He hadn't held back so why should she, even if it was to protect his pride? "Ok," she conceded. "Yes," she said. "I was thinking about the rape. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he replied. "I mean, it's probably pretty normal, right?"
She shrugged her small shoulders. "I guess. I hate it though."
"You talk to anyone?" Nathan asked her. "Like a therapist or, uh, one of those rape crisis group thing?"
She shook her head. "My dad tried to make me see a shrink, but I just don't see how it would help. It won't change what happened."
"Some things you just need to get off your chest," he responded. "Or the group thing, it's with a bunch of other women who got raped too, right? That could probably help you work through it."
"How?" she scoffed. "By showing me just how often it actually occurs? By practically saying 'hey, rape's a part of life, get over it'?"
"No," he denied quickly. "I don't know, like you could learn how they got through it and stuff." Clearly he was not in his element here. In fact, he'd have to say he had no clue what he was talking about and maybe should just shut the hell up.
Peyton confirmed his thought with her next request. "Listen, Nate, I know you're trying to help, but please don't push this. I don't need a shrink or group therapy to get past this. All I need is us, and some time. Can you give me that?"
"Yeah," he answered gruffly. In his mind, she would probably benefit from some sort of counselling, but then again, what did he know? He couldn't begin to understand what she was going through. He never would, so he would have to just follow her lead on this. "If that's what you want."
"Thank you," she said, her arms wrapping around him and her head dropping to nestle itself against his chest. When his own arm circled her tiny waist, drawing her in closer, she felt protected and safe in his strong embrace. Safer than she had in months.
So safe, in fact, that this time she did doze off. As did Nathan, who hadn't been sleeping all that well himself.
They were startled awake by a light tapping against the passenger side window. Their eyes flew open to find Larry standing there patiently.
Peyton sat fully upright and absently pressed the automatic window button before shaking her head as it dawned on her the ignition was off. So she opened the door instead. "Daddy, hey," she said, rubbing her tired eyes.
"Hey, yourself," her father replied. "Listen," he went on. "Your friends are still all here. I thought you might want to come join them," he said, silently telling her how rude it was to just leave them alone.
Geez, Peyton thought sleepily, how long had she and Nathan been out here? Clearly a while if her dad was coming to fetch her. "Umm, yeah I will," she told him, despite the fact she'd much rather just sit here with her fiancé all night. She loved her friends, but she didn't want to part with Nathan.
"And since we've got a gang here and the rain seems to have let up, your mother and I were talking of doing a barbecue," Larry said.
"Sounds good," Peyton answered, though her disinterested tone said otherwise. A barbecue did sound appetizing, but again, she'd rather be with Nathan.
"I'm glad you think so," her dad told her before turning his attention to the boy beside his daughter. "What do you say, Nathan? You like burgers?"
The first thing to pop in his head was he preferred steak, but he figured it probably wasn't a good idea to say that. "Uh..."
"He loves them," Peyton jumped in, almost giddily, to answer for her boyfriend.
"Well, alright then, you'll stay," Larry practically ordered Nathan. "We'll meet you two out back," he added. He knew extending the raven haired Scott an invitation was the right move. He knew it would put a smile on his daughter's face, and he certainly couldn't begrudge that, he thought as he walked away from them.
"That was ok, right?" Peyton asked once her father was out of earshot. "I mean, I know they're not your favorite, but you don't hate burgers, and it's pretty cool that my dad invited you. I think it means he's finally ready to give you a chance. Or at least try. That's a good thing, right?"
Nathan hesitated a moment. This dinner with her parents could be nothing short of awkward, for him and her parents alike. But like her father, Nathan couldn't resist that gorgeous smile of hers. Oh, what the hell? At least there would be others around to break the tension. "Yeah," he said agreeably. "It's a good thing."
"Well then, come on," she said excitedly, already stepping out of the car.
Nathan quickly threw his door open and went around to help her with her crutches. "Can you make it?" he asked her.
"Yeah. I've gotten pretty used to making my way around."
"Ok," he said, closing her door for her.
"But before we go back there," Peyton said seriously. "I should probably warn you, Chase is on a war path."
"What do you mean?"
"He went off on me earlier about how we treat Brooke. If I were a guy, I'd say he chewed my balls off and handed them back to me."
Nathan frowned. "What'd he say?"
"Basically that we suck as friends and she should be done with us already."
Sucking in an angry breath, Nathan pressed a fisted hand against an open palm, his knuckles cracking simultaneously, repeating the process with the opposite knuckles. "Want me to ...?"
"No," Peyton said with a chuckle before he could even finish. She knew what he'd been about to ask. "No," she repeated. "I don't want you to hurt him. I want us to be better friends to her."
"What, you bought that crap?" he asked incredulously. "Peyt, we're her best friends. Always have been, always will be."
"And we take that for granted," she argued. "A lot," she added. "Chase is right, Nate. I can't deny it and neither can you."
He didn't respond at first. It wasn't something he'd ever considered a problem. Or even thought of at all. But once he did, even for a second, he supposed he could kind of see how he and Peyton, at times, maybe weren't the greatest friends ever. "I guess," he finally said. "So, what do we do?"
"We do better," she said simply. "And we be grateful that she has Chase to keep us in line when we mess up."
"So, he's gonna be, like, constantly testing us, or what?" Nathan asked, not liking the idea of that. Looking out for Brooke was one thing, but being continually watched to make sure they didn't slip up was another thing entirely.
"No, I don't think so," Peyton denied. "I think he just wants her to be happy. I do believe he may be in love with our Brookie."
"That's fine," Nathan returned. "As long as he doesn't start trying to change everything," he mumbled.
"Stop. Some things need changing."
"And some don't," he countered.
"Seriously, Nate, I don't think he's trying to get between our friendships. He just wants us to treat her better, which we should be doing."
"Ok, if you say so," he replied.
She smiled, knowing that was the best she was going to get out of Nathan. He would take her word for it that Chase was merely looking out for Brooke, and in time, he would see it for himself. "So," she began flirtily. "I'm actually not sure that I can make it all that way. How 'bout a piggy back, my big, strong boyfriend?"
He chuckled in return and flipped around till his back was to her. "Hop on, my little cripple," he said, bending over to make her jump easier.
She leaned her crutches against the car and slapped him in the ass before doing as he said.
He smirked-his famous Scott smirk-at the slap, but didn't comment on it.
"Grab the crutches," she instructed when he made to walk off without them.
"What, I have to carry those and you?" he balked with amusement.
"Hence the big, strong boyfriend reference," she joked back with a girlish giggle.
"Fiancé," he corrected, that being the only part of the sentence he had issue with.
"Yes," she admitted, as Nathan took steps toward the back yard. "Big, strong fiancé. That's what I meant."