The Destruction You Desire by Tracy Lorraine

1

Luca

My hand trembles around the flowers I'm carrying as I walk around the house to the backyard.

Coming here is a risk. I knew that before I even left the house. But after avoiding Peyton—everyone really—since I walked out of the mall on Wednesday. I promised both Leon and Letty that I would give her some space. That I would try to figure my shit out. But my patience has run out.

I need her.

I need her more than I'm willing to admit, and that terrifies me.

When I first knocked on the front door, I assumed they'd gone out. But with all their cars parked out in front of the house, I figured they couldn't have gone that far. And as I walk toward the back gate, I hear joyful chatter and laughing, and I realize that I was right.

I have no idea what I'm expecting to find when I walk through the gate to the backyard. If I had to guess then I'm probably about to walk into the middle of all my friends celebrating Peyton's birthday as if they've all forgotten about me.

My chest tightens at the thought of them all taking her side in this fight.

It once again makes me question everything.

Has my loyalty been totally misplaced all this time?

Should I have believed her that day? Should I have told her that everything was going to be okay and pull her into my arms like I did every other time shit got hard for either of us.

I've spent all these years believing that she was the one to ruin us and everything we had. But really, was it me? Was I the dumbass who wanted to believe that those closest to me wouldn't hurt me like that?

My heart is in my throat as I stand before the gate, staring down at the latch.

Just walk through it and wish her a happy birthday, Luca. Don't be a pussy.

Squeezing my eyes closed for a beat, the image of her turning me away on Monday night slams into me. If I weren't so gutted by the move and the fact that she used me to get what she needed, then I'd probably be proud of her. But I can't move past the fact that I needed her, I needed my best friend at that moment and she turned her back on me.

I know I should have expected it. But fuck, my head was—is‚ a fucking mess.

All I knew was that I needed her to quiet everything down just for a little while.

She did. Kissing her, touching her, sliding deep inside of her, it gave me everything I was craving. It broke through the anger that had descended with Dad's surprise visit. But it wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough.

Blowing out a quick slow breath, I reach for the latch and without thinking about it, I swing it open and step into the backyard.

The first thing I notice is that it's not full of people I recognize like I thought it might be. Instead, there are only four people sitting around a table at the other end of the yard.

The second is that one of those people is not only little, but in a wheelchair.

Time seems to slow down as the gate crashes closed behind me, alerting everyone to the fact that they've got company before all eyes turn toward me.

I hear people say things but I don't register any of the words because my eyes are locked onto the little boy who's staring back at me with wide shocked eyes.

He looks… fuck.

He looks just like me as a kid.

My heart thunders as my head spins at a mile a minute.

I know fuck all about kids, but he's gotta be what… four? Five, maybe?

My arms fall to my sides as I stride forward to get a closer look, but Peyton jumps up, immediately trying to block my view of the little boy with her body.

"Peyton?" I breathe, needing her to do something, to say something because right now I'm so fucking confused and beginning to jump to conclusions that I really don't need in my fucking head.

She hesitates for a beat, but clearly realizes that it's too late to try to hide him because I've already seen him.

She stands aside allowing me to once again stare at the little boy whose eyes are as green as mine and who looks exactly like the photos of me as a kid that hang on Mom's walls.

"P-Peyton. Is he… is he mine?" The words fall from my lips without me realizing but it's what makes the most sense to me right now.

My eyes are still locked on him when movement to his side catches my attention but I'm not quick enough because as Peyton drops to the floor, the guy who was sitting beside her jumps up and manages to catch her before she hits the deck.

"It's okay, Peyton," the guy says, gently lowering her to the ground.

The lady at the table rushes around to her side as the little boy wheels closer.

Everything happens around me but it's like I'm not really seeing it, really experiencing it.

It's like I'm dreaming and I'm not really here.

I will myself to wake up but I know it's pointless because this is way too fucked up to be a dream. This kind of shit can only be real.

"I-I'm okay," she whispers after a couple of seconds.

"Peyton, thank goodness," the lady says, her voice full of relief.

"Seriously, I'm okay." She pushes away from the guy—her boyfriend, I assume, and sits up, resting her elbows on her knees and drops her head into her hands.

It's like it takes her a second to remember what she's in the middle of. I know the exact moment it slams into her because her body tenses and her eyes fly up to mine.

Her lips part as if she's about to say something but she decides against it.

The tension in the air is so thick I can barely breathe, but I'm not leaving from the spot until I've been given an explanation and heard everything. I don't care how painful it is, I don't care how much devastation it's going to cause on top of everything that's already threatening to break me. I need it all.

"C-can you all go inside, please?" Peyton asks, her eyes still on mine.

"Are you sure, Peyton?" the lady asks as the guy stands from where he was on his haunches beside her.

"I'm fine. I just haven't eaten anything and—"

"I'll get you a glass of water. Come on." She gestures for the guy to go inside and after wrapping his hands around the boy's wheelchair the three of them disappear.

The air crackles between us once we're alone. My chest heaves as I fight to get a grip on myself and what all of this means.

"Here you go, sweetie," the lady says, passing a bottle over to where Peyton is still sitting on the edge of the deck with her feet on the grass.

"Thank you," she whispers, still not taking her eyes off mine. It's as if she can't believe this is happening as much as I can't either. The lady whispers something to her that I can't quite hear before Peyton assures her that she's okay. Accepting Peyton’s answer, she squeezes her shoulder in support while shooting me one hell of a death glare, as she disappears once more.

The sound of the back door closing is like a gunshot echoing around us.

I wait two seconds before my need for an answer to my previous question gets the better of me.

"Is. He. Mine?"

She shakes her head, a sad smile curling at her lips.

"No, Luc. He's not."

I stare at her, my blood boiling as another possibility hits me.

"No," I bark, my hands coming up to my hair, the flowers and card that I was holding long forgotten as they tumble to the ground. "He can't be Leon's. Please, please don't tell me that you and—"

"What?" she screeches, jumping from the deck. "No, he's not Leon's. Jesus, Luc. Why would you…" She trails off as she begins pacing back and forth in front of me.

"Then whose is he, Peyton? Because you can't honestly stand there and tell me that he's got nothing to do with me. You've seen his face, right? He looks just like me."

"Yes, Luc," she hisses. "I've seen his face. I've had to look at his face for the last five years and swallow down the pain in my chest every fucking time."

"Who is he, Peyton?" I ask, ignoring her comment.

"He… He's…" She blows out a breath, turning away from me momentarily and pulling at her hair. Spinning back around, her eyes capture mine and she takes a step closer.

Her face is set in anger, her usually bright silver eyes are a dark gray.

"I never once lied to you, Luca. NEVER," she seethes. "What I told you that day, I told you because I loved you, because you deserved to know what I'd overheard. I had no idea if it was true at the time. But that didn't matter because I didn't keep anything from you."

"Peyton," I growl, my patience long shattered.

She throws her arms up in defeat.

"He's your brother, Luc. He's your little b-brother."

She covers her face with her hands as a sob rips from her throat.

He's my…

"FUCK," I roar. It's so loud that a couple of birds rush from the trees above us. "FUCK."

I pull at my hair until it hurts, until I swear it's going to come free as my world tilts on its axis once more.

Stumbling back, I collide with the fence behind me and drop to my ass, trying to process what all of this means, but right now the only thing I can picture is fifteen-year-old Peyton with tears streaming down her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling as I shouted at her, called her a liar, told her that I'd never trust her again.

Emotion clogs my throat, tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I fight to keep them in as she curls into herself while lowering down to sit on the deck and sobs.

Tipping my head back, I stare up at the sky just watching the clouds move as I focus on just breathing.

My fists clench and unclench at my sides as I fight with myself not to just get up and walk away because fuck if that wouldn't be the easiest thing to do right now.