Page 91 of The Destruction You Desire

"Yeah, see, you probably would have said that the day before I told you what I'd heard back then too. But look what happened."

"I was a kid, Peyton."

"And only a few weeks ago?"

"I was angry. Confused. I'm a mess, P."

"Even more reason not to get carried away here, don't you think?"

"Nothing makes sense without you."

My heart pounds harder at his confession because I understand. I feel it too, but I'm not brave enough to do anything about it right now.

"I want this, Peyton. I want you. I want us. I want to be a part of Kayden's life. I want to move forward, put the past behind us. I want the future we always talked about. I've always wanted that."

"I can't, Luca. My life is a disaster. I can't make that kind of commitment to you, or anyone right now."

"I'm not asking for a commitment, P. I just want hope."

"Tell me about it," I mutter, lifting my coffee to my lips.

"I've got something for you," he says, lifting his ass from the chair and pulling something from his back pocket.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

Placing my mug back down, I take the envelope from his hand and pull out the letter inside. Unfolding it, I stare down at the words, the figures, staring back at me.

My head knows exactly what it is, but I still refuse to believe it.

He hasn't…

He wouldn't…

"W-what is this?"

"It's a receipt. Confirmation that you are now debt-free."

"No," I shout, pushing the chair out from behind me and causing an awful screech that turns everyone's attention on us. "No. This isn't fair, Luca. This wasn't your problem."

Before he can respond, I take off running. Thankfully the elevator is just about to close when I get there and I slip inside.

"Peyton, wait," he calls right before the doors close behind me.

The four other people in the car look at me with concerned expressions but I keep my eyes on the floor as my head spins.

He paid all my debts. All of it. Every single cent.

I'm pacing back and forth at the end of Libby's bed when he finally catches up with me. Dragging my eyes from the floor, I narrow them at him, silently begging for him to get out so I can process this.

"You're not running away from this, Peyton," he whispers, his chest heaving from presumably running up the stairs. Stepping inside and closing the door, he damn near takes all the air with him.

"You had no right to do that."

"I just want to help, P. Let me do this for you, please."

"My debt isn't your responsibility," I hiss.