Page 85 of Promise Me Not

I can’t.

I miss Deaton.

IloveDeaton.

I only want Deaton.

Right?

Mason

She’s freaking out.

I don’t know if it was us waking in the same house and having breakfast or the comment I made about the baby being a boy. Either way, Payton is in her head, more so than normal.

Her every answer is a single word, and when she looks at me for longer than a second, her cheeks turn a truer shade of pink.

I think it’s fucking adorable, which is kind of messed up considering it’s probably a blush of embarrassment and not the sweet, shy little blush a woman gives a man she’s attracted to.

I’ve seen that on her before, because like it or not, she is attracted to me, but this is different. It might even be guilt, and that freaks me out. I can’t have her feeling guilty. If she does, she’ll pull away faster than a NASCAR pit stop, and there will be no one to blame but myself.

That’s not going to happen, though, because getting out of the house is as much for her as it is for me. I might still have wraps around my ribs and a sling rubbing my neck raw, but I can walk just fine, so I lead us from the house and down the road rather than to the sandy beach.

It might be November, but it’s Oceanside after all, so the sweats and hoodies we’re both wearing are more than enough to keep us warm.

I lead her down a side street that points to a few shops, and we make our first stop in a small candy store.

Payton’s eyes light up as she steps inside, her attention going to the giant wall of gummy candies right away. “I would have killed to come to a place like this as a kid,” she whispers, running her baby-blue painted nails along the acrylic dispensers.

I grab her hand, lifting to look closer at the color, and this time when she looks up and that blush comes back—it’s for me. A thrill of excitement rolls through me, but I tamp it down.

“I found it in the bathroom drawer.” She chews at her lips, the unspoken words hanging between us.

It’s baby-boy blue.

“I like it.”

She looks away, and a smile kicks up on my lips.

“So never been to a candy store, then?” I ask, lifting a giant gummy bear on a stick and showing it to her.

She gapes at it and shakes her head, picking up a tin box full of candies made to look like Band-Aids. She cringes, setting it back down. “Not once. There was one in the local mall back home, but my mom would never let us go in there. She said it was ghastly to even consider such a place. She saw some other kids stick their hands in a jelly bean dispenser once, and I think it freaked her out. That and we weren’t allowed sugar.”

“Not even Lucky Charms?”

“Especially not Lucky Charms.” She smirks, her eyes lighting up when she spots a container of chocolate almonds.

“Seriously?”

Her head whips my way. “What?”

“Almonds?” I make a show out of looking all around the space. “Out of all this, and you pick almonds?”

“They’re not just any almonds. They’re chocolate sea salt–covered almonds,” she teases back, holding them against her chest with a fake pout.

It’s so damn cute, I can’t help but reach forward and tug at her lower lip.

Her eyes flare, and she swiftly whips around, clearing her throat. “I think I’ll get the chocolate cashews, too.”

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