Eight
Layla
“As soon as Cameron announces a fight, I open a file here.” I click on the program and that opens to multiple files.
I decided after lunch today that the condo was too quiet and I needed something to do, so I came to the training center to go over some last minute things with Eve since she’ll be taking over while I’m on maternity leave. “The easiest way to do it—”
“Layla, you’ve shown me this.” Eve’s deadpan voice calls my eyes. “Multiple times.”
“Oh, well then”—I click off the program—“I can show you how to file the invoices for—”
She groans and drops her head into her hands, fisting her thick blond hair. “You showed me that too.” I slump back in my chair, and she swivels hers to face me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, why would you think something’s going on?” I force a light laugh and avoid her piercing glare.
“Why aren’t you home? We’ve been through everything I need to do here. Things are mellow until the next fight, so why not hit maternity leave early?” Her pinched brows and probing blue eyes attempt to read me.
“And do what? Sleep all day?”
“Yes, or any of the other stuff pregnant chicks do like shop for baby shit or eat or do that nesting thing where you reorganize your house.”
I’ve already done all that. And redone it. I push up and arrange papers that don’t need arranging. “There’re still some things I’m sure we need to go over like . . .” I run my eyes over the desk, even turn to peek into Cameron’s office. “Hm . . . there’s got to be something.”
“Layla, stop.”
I open my mouth to protest, but learned long ago that arguing with Eve is an auto-lose situation. “Fine.”
She blinks down at the floor where my purse is, but quickly brushes off whatever she’s thinking. “Look, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you want, but you don’t have to do it teaching me stuff. We can—” Her gaze darts back to my purse. “You gonna get that?”
“Hm?” I pretend that I don’t hear the incessant buzzing of my phone, even though it’s been ringing every hour since six a.m. “No, it’s probably nothing.”
Her eyes pull into tight slits. “How do you know that? It could be important.”
The phone continues to buzz. “Nah, Blake’s here. He knows where to find me and Axelle’s in class.”
The buzzing stops, only to start up again.
Eve locks eyes with me, and the phone’s vibration suddenly seems like a roar.
“Oh for the love of God.” She grabs my purse and fishes out my phone.
I snag the purse back by the strap a little too eagerly, which only tightens her stare.
She hits the screen and puts the phone to her hear. “Hello?”
Shit!
Her eyes widen a little. “Yes, I’m listening.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I reach for the phone, but she turns and jumps up from her seat faster than my big ole body can move.
Dammit!
“Yeah, go on.”
This is it. Eve’s going to find out, tell Blake, and he’ll lose his shit and open a whole new world of what the fuck right before I have this baby. I can’t handle this. I don’t want anything to do with any of this.
Her body turns slowly, and her eyes are wide on mine. “I’m going to have to get back to you on that.” A few beats of silence. “Okay, bye.” She hits End and moves back into her seat, falling back hard and letting her head drop back. “Whoa.”
“Eve, listen, I can explain . . .” But no words come out of my mouth.
Her head lulls to the side. “He says he’s Axelle’s dad.” Her voice is a whisper, and I could hug her for her discretion. Lord knows it’s not her usual MO, but the fire of anger keeps my arms locked to my sides.
“I figured.”
“Do you remember him?” She’s still whispering.
“I don’t even know his name. I haven’t been answering the calls, and the one time I did I hung up the second I realized he . . .” I drop my head into my hands and force back the burn of tears. I won’t cry over this. I refuse to shed another tear. What’s done is done and it brought me my daughter. I can’t find it in my heart to regret that.
“His name is Trip Miller.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. Trip? My high school crush? The guy I went out of my way to impress, but wouldn’t give me the time of day?
“I take it you know him?”
I nod and get lost in my memories. The night I got pregnant with Axelle I went to that party looking for him. I drank and drank, and he never seemed to even notice I was there. He wasn’t even friends with Stewart. How did he end up . . .? Bile rushes into my throat.
I cup my mouth with my hand. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
She moves quickly, pulling me to my feet and helping me to the ladies’ restroom down the hallway. I race into a stall and vomit everything I’d eaten that day until there’s nothing left but spit.
I don’t want to do this. “I don’t want to face this.” Not now.
“I know, Layla, I do, but sooner or later you’re going to have to.”
I didn’t even realize she was so close, but feel the tug of her holding my hair back. I shake my head and wait for another rush of puke that never comes then drop back on my ass, leaning against the adjacent wall.
“This doesn’t make any sense. We barely spoke five words to each other.” Especially after I ended up a pregnant teenager. He avoided me completely after that bomb dropped. Is this why? “How could he do this to me?” Tears fall in streams down my cheeks as the weight of betrayal sets in.
I was asleep, totally drugged, and he took advantage of me. I thought I loved Trip back then, at that age all love feels like the deepest kind of love. And he treated me like some piece of pass-around pussy.
And now he’s claiming to be Axelle’s father? What the hell brought that on?
Images of him flash behind my eyes: his deep blue eyes and brown shaggy hair. I remember it was so thick, the kind that women would die to have . . . just like Axelle’s.
A sob rips from my chest.
“That’s it. I’m going to get Blake.” She moves to leave.
“No!” Panic floods my veins and I try to push myself to standing. “No, please don’t.”
She gives me her hand and helps me to my feet. “Layla, you can’t keep this from him.”
“I know, but I need time to figure this out before I talk to him.” Between Stewart and now Trip, I don’t know what to believe. What do I say? Hey, Blake. Guess what? We have another guy claiming to be my baby daddy. Maybe in a few years we’ll have a baker’s dozen. I groan and rub my temples.
She flushes the toilet, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Eve.” I wipe my eyes and try to pull myself together. “You don’t understand Blake. He’s protective to a fault. He’ll go after Trip and end up back in jail or worse. Just . . . please.” My stomach pinches painfully at my lie. It’s not a total lie, but the truth is I don’t want Blake to be reminded of my past any more than I do.
Everything we have, everything we’ve worked to overcome will come crashing down around us. He’s already in a weird place with the baby coming and all his responsibilities that go along with it, changing from a single guy to a family of four almost overnight. The information about someone snooping around, which I’m sure now is Trip, is bound to make any man nervous, especially someone as protective as Blake. Yeah, I need to take care of this on my own. Squash it before it reaches him and Axelle.
Fuck, this is all such a nightmare.
My nightmare . . . the laughing. Was Trip there that night, laughing?
A new wave of hysteria threatens to drop me to my knees, but Eve’s eyes are locked on me.
I cough to clear the emotion from my throat. “I think I might head home after all.”
She nods, and sympathy shines in he
r eyes. “Yeah, I think that’s smart.”
I move to the sink, rinse my mouth out, and clean up my face. “Eve, promise you won’t say anything?”
She meets my eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, but only if you promise me you’ll talk to Blake. You can’t handle this on your own. It’s too big and you’re too fragile right now.”
There’s pain in her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about what happened with Raven. One minute all was well, and the next Eve was laid up in a hospital bed, praying for her best friend and her baby.
“You don’t understand. This has the potential to ruin my life. What if he is Axelle’s father? What does that mean for Blake, and how will all this affect him?” A single tear drips down my cheek. “How will it affect us?”
Sympathy softens her eyes and she steps closer. “He has no power. He can’t just breeze in, confess he raped you in high school, and waltz away with parental rights.”
“You heard how persistent he was with me. What if he tries to contact her? Why should she . . . no, why should we have to pay the price for their cruelty?” A fresh wave of tears pours down my face.
Her eyes widen. “I’m not defending him. I’m not, but . . .” She chews the inside of her mouth. “What if there’s more to the story? He made it sound like whatever it is he wants to tell you is important.”
“I can’t handle learning more about that night.” I sniff back tears and try to compose myself. “I just can’t.”
Eve’s eyes shine as well, and I force myself to turn away, unable to witness her pain on my behalf.
“Eve!” I hear a banging knock on the door and Cameron’s bellowing voice. “You in here?”
I sniff and wipe my cheeks. “Crap.”
“Yeah, I’m here. Give me a sec.”
“You with Layla? Daniels’s up here looking for her!” He calls through the door.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I take a quick peek at my splotchy face and bloodshot eyes. No way they’ll buy that I wasn’t crying. Fuck!
Eve lifts her eyebrows, and I nod that I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. We move out of the bathroom to find a concerned-looking Cameron. His glare moves between Eve and me, but thankfully his woman wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his lips to hers. “Hey, babe. Just a little girl talk is all.”
I duck my chin and move back toward my desk where Blake is sitting, one half of his ass on the top and his hand on his hip. He’s wearing training clothes, and his hair looks damp.
“Hey, Bla—”
“What the fuck is going on, Layla?” His eyes move from my forehead to my cheeks, eyes, and land on my lips.
I give him a shy smile and dab my cheeks with my fingertips. “Got a little emotional talking to Eve.”
His eyes dart to Eve, who thankfully is still facing Cameron and dropping kisses along his jaw so Blake can’t see the guilt she’s probably wearing on her expression. “Emotional? Talking about what?”
“Oh ya know . . .” I roll my eyes. “Babies, puppies, diaper commercials, the normal stuff.”
His glare tightens. Shit, he knows I’m lying. I close the space between us, and he opens his legs a little wider to welcome me between them. My arms move to wrap around his neck, and he braces my hips in a firm grip. He opens his mouth to talk, but I beat him to it.
“I was just headed home, wanna come?” I lean in and press a soft kiss on his bottom lip, redirecting him with sex, not my proudest moment.
His eyes flare with desire, and I watch with fascination as the worry that shone in the green depths dissolves a little. “With you, Mouse, I always wanna come.”
A genuine giggle bubbles up from my throat, and I’m thankful for the break from all the tears. “Let me grab my stuff and we’ll go.”
He grabs a handful of my ass and kisses my forehead. “I’ve got something I need to do, but I’ll meet you at home.”
“Okay, but”—I run my nose from his shoulder, up his neck, breathing him in, to his ear—“don’t shower. Save that for me.”
He growls with a hunger so deep that my thighs clench together.
This is where I want to be, where I want to stay. Far away from the memories with a future filled with new memories to make. I refuse to live my life in fear, afraid to turn every corner because there could be some sliver of my past waiting to explode in my face.
But Eve’s right. I’m fragile right now, and my number one priority is getting this baby here whole and healthy. Trip waited eighteen years to come forward with whatever information he has about that night. He can wait a little longer. I’ll avoid his calls, and he can stay busy digging up records until I’m strong enough to end this once and for all.
Renewed by the little control I’ve gained in having a plan, I resolve to live in the moment. And as if the universe was out to torture me, my phone starts vibrating again.
Son of a bitch!
Nine
Blake
Before I even register the vibration of Layla’s phone on her desk, I see her eyes widen a fraction and then relax, trying to cover up her response. She moves to grab it, but I’m closer and snag it before she gets there.
I accept the call. “Who is this?” Not at all in the mood for social niceties, I bark out the question and am met with silence from the end of the line. “Hello?”
“Um . . . I’m sorry. I’m calling for Ms. Moorehead?” A woman, polite and professional¸ but fuck hearing that last name is startin’ to grate on my nerves. Axelle’s legally mine, Layla’s carrying my baby and is way the fuck mine, and neither of them have my last name. Yet. “She’s here. May I ask who’s calling?”
Layla’s face has gone pale, and she’s sucking on her bottom lip. Is she going to cry?
“Yes, of course. This is Debra Thompson. I’m Axelle’s guidance counselor. If this is a bad time, I can call back later.”
“Hold on a sec.” I hit Mute and reach to pull Layla to me, but she flinches. I hold my hand up and lean away from her. “Mouse, what the hell is going on? You look like you’re about to pass out.” I grab her desk chair and wheel it to her. “Sit.”
With tentative steps, she moves to the chair and drops down. I squat down to eye-level, and she gulps in a quick breath.
“Listen, it’s the school. Axelle’s fine. It’s just her guidance counselor, probably wants to talk about her admission to UNLV.”
“Oh my . . .” She slumps over and leans her forehead into her hand. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’m not myself lately. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want me to have her call you back?”
She nods a few times into her hand.
I hit Unmute and put the phone to my ear while keeping my other hand on Layla’s hip. “Mrs. Thompson, if you could call Layla back, we’d appreciate that.”
“Sure thing.” There’s a smile in her voice. “You must be Mr. Daniels?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Elle speaks highly of you.”
“Thank you, it means a lot hearin’ that. I always thought teenagers were supposed to hate their parents.”
Debra chuckles. “Yes, well . . . not all of them. I’ll try Ms. Moorehead back in a couple hours.”
I grit my teeth and nod then say goodbye.
“Hey . . .” Eve and Cameron step up to us. I almost forgot they were even here. Eve shares a quick moment with Layla; it’s that brief non-verbal shit women do with their eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Layla takes a shaky breath. “Axelle’s guidance counselor called. I just, um . . . I’m jumpy today.”
Not a lot surprises me anymore when it comes to a pregnant woman and her moods, but my guess is her jumpiness has to do with that damn email. I clench my jaw, angry at myself for being so careless. She never should’ve seen that.
“Right.” Eve’s eyes bounce between Layla and me, and Cameron seems confused. “Cameron and I are going to head down to the break room and grab a drink.” She nods to Layla, more non-verbal crap.
&
nbsp; What the hell was that?
I can’t help but think something’s going on all around me but I’m oblivious to it all. When I look at Cameron, he only scowls and shakes his head. That’s non-verbal guy speak for don’t fucking ask me, I’m just as lost as you, brother.
Whatever it is I brush it off to pregnancy hormones and girl shit and hand Layla her phone. “Debra Thompson is calling you back to talk about Axelle in two hours.”
“Great, yeah.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “That’s . . . great. Okay.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “You upset about the email?”
“No, no.” She shakes her head convincingly. “It’s not that. It’s just . . .” She exhales long and hard. “I’m tired, but can’t sleep.” Her hands brace on our baby. “I’m uncomfortably huge, but can’t do anything about it. I’m starving, but can’t fit more than a teaspoon of food in my stomach at a time. My joints are all loosey-goosey, my feet are swollen, and I’m just so ready to have this baby and yet completely terrified at the same time.” She blinks up at me.
I’m stunned silent, shaking my head.
“What?”
“Fuck!” I rub the back of my neck. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, welcome to my world of crazy.” A tiny blush hits her cheeks.
“Brae was going to stop by for dinner tonight, but I’ll call him and cancel. I don’t want—”
She perks up. “Mmm . . . are you barbequing?”
“Yeah.” I try to hold back my grin.
“Don’t cancel.” She licks her lips as if she can already taste the food.
Warmth explodes in my chest. Fuck, I love this woman and I hate to see her hurting, and even seeing her uncomfortable is a kick in the nuts. I tug her to me, and she collapses into my chest. “Bossy Mouse.”
My conversation with Brae in the weight room comes back to me. This woman is so deep under my skin there’s nothing I wouldn’t do or sacrifice to keep her, even if it meant my own happiness.
It’s nothing like what my mom goes through with my dad, but for the first time, I can see where her devotion to The General comes from.
She loves him so deep down in her soul that torture with him is better than the pain of never having him around. I inhale Layla’s hair and feel the shift in my heart where my mother is concerned.
A Father's Fight Page 7
