by Kar, Alla
“You shouldn’t be so cocky, Taylor,” he whispers from behind me. “I have her family on my side.”
“You’re going to have three broken ribs on your side if you don’t shut the fuck up.” I turn to face him.
He is smiling at me when Layla swings the door open. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Chapter Seven
Layla
“The bruises look better today,” I say, sliding my fingertip along Taylor’s ribs. When he knocked on that door last night, I could have strangled his ass. It looked like death was knocking on our door. Blood was covering him. Bruises, cuts, gashes … I mean, you name it and I promise he had it.
Taylor groans and presses his head against the pillow. “God, I feel like shit.”
I scoff. “Well, you shouldn’t have gone out there, Taylor.”
“Says the girl that confronted Rod face-to-face? You can’t talk. At least I have fight training.”
Ouch. “I will say that wasn’t the brightest idea, but I was trying to protect my friends and you.” I poke his chest.
One gray eye peaks opened. “Like I was trying to protect you.” He pokes my chest. “I’ve just got to keep out of sight today. I don’t want Dan seeing me like this.”
“Why?”
Taylor keeps still. “Why, Taylor? Tell me.”
“I just don’t want your grandpa seeing me beat up.” He turns before I can say anything and hides his face in the pillow.
I narrow my eyes. “Since when do you care what anybody thinks, Taylor?”
“Since I asked you to marry me, and we’re here with your family. I don’t want – ,”
“Tell me the truth, Taylor. Why don’t you want my grandpa to find out?”
He groans. “Because he doesn’t want me to fight anymore.”
I gasp. Grandpa asked him not to fight anymore? I’m not sure why I’m surprised. He tried to rule my dad’s life, too. If you aren’t a farmer you need a new job, obviously. This means that Damon did tell my grandpa everything. And it means Damon is probably plotting with my grandpa to get Taylor to fight. He wants Taylor mad. They want to see him let loose so they can shove it back in his face. Oh, I’m going to kill both of them.
“Taylor, my grandpa asked you not to fight?”
He shrugs one shoulder and covers his face with the other one. “Yes, Layla. And he’s right. Me doing the underground fighting thing isn’t a stable job for your fiancée to have. It will pay the bills but you’ll never be completely safe.”
Safe. That’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. “Taylor,” I say carefully. “Do you honestly believe that? All the problems we’ve had, have been my problems. Not yours.”
Taylor grunts and sits up on his elbow. His chest is swollen and bruised. I can’t think of anything worse than seeing him like this. Well, at least he’s alive. “Hustler,” he mumbles, running a finger down my cheek. “You saw what happened last night–,”
“Which was my problem. He’s my problem’s son. None of this is related to you, it’s related to my dad.”
“Stop interrupting me, woman,” he groans. “It’s just a matter of time before I fight someone that wants to take it to another level and kill me, baby. Your grandpa is right and I’m not fighting anymore unless something like last night happens again, which I pray it doesn’t.”
Taylor not fighting is like a fish without water. Will he even survive? He looks serious but I’m not convinced he’ll be able to stop. He’s so good and he loves it. I don’t want him to stop doing what he loves because of my family. I’ll love him with or without fighting.
“Okay,” I say.
Someone knocks on the door and it swings open. “Hey, you ready to head to town?” Cindy asks, then her mouth drops open. “Holy Hell, Taylor. You look like shit!”
“Cindy!”
He rolls his eyes. “At least I have a reason to look like shit. What’s yours?”
Cindy flips him off. “I was going to feel sorry for you, but not now. Nope.”
Mumbling something underneath his breath, he rests his head against the pillow again. “You two be careful. I don’t want to have to come save you. And trust me, I really don’t want to have to move.”
Cindy scoffs and flexes her muscles. “I’ve got this, bro.”
Taylor grips my hand. “Please, be careful, hustler.” The pleading look in his eyes makes my own water. I could only imagine how quickly I’d die if someone beat me like that. Cindy and I don’t stand a chance against a group of guys. Hell, against one guy.
I nod and lean over to kiss him. “I promise, Taylor. We’re going to be safe.”
“Good. See you in a little while, Hustler.”
***
The mall is packed when we get there. It is Christmas week, so I figured as much. People seem to go cra-cra about Christmas. Cindy and I pick through the leftovers from the Christmas sales. I find Taylor this Xbox game he wants half price and some expensive headphones he’s been wanting.
Cindy buys Brett some kind of workout shakes and more weights. It’s not like he needs them. Cindy shuts the Hummer door and relaxes into the leather. I’m so glad she hasn’t been prying about Seth and Taylor. I know she wants to know, but I’m not sure her knowing is the best. So, I turn up the radio and we sing along to a Taylor Swift song, like we’re in high school again. It’s nice to be carefree, even if it’s just for twenty minutes.
Grandma is standing on the front porch when I get home, one hand on her waist and the other showing Grandpa what to do. “Over there, Dan,” she says, pointing toward one of the pillars on the porch.
Grandpa mumbles but steps up higher on the ladder and places the wreath there. I have no idea why my grandparents wait so long to put up their decorations. They do it every year.
“You guys need some help?” Cindy yells.
Grandma turns and squints her eyes against the sun, like she doesn’t know it’s us walking toward her with bags. “No, hon. How does it look?”
We both give her a thumbs up. “Layla,” my grandmother yells to stop me. “I need to see you in the house really quick. It won’t take long.”
I hand Cindy my bags and start toward the house. Grandma leaves Grandpa placing Christmas lights, and opens the door for both of us.
She doesn’t say anything as she leads me upstairs to her room. It smells like lavender. Her soft cotton comforter is still there, folded down nicely. The framed picture of my mother is still hanging over their nightstand. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. I feel like a small child again. “What are you doing?” I ask. My grandma is in her closet, pulling out things and putting them back. I watch carefully as she pulls out a dress. I can’t tell what it looks like because of the protective cover.
“Layla,” Grandma says, pushing her gray hair from her face. Her blue eyes are coated with tears now, one shimmering down her face. “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
I sit down on the edge of their bed and interlace my fingers against my thighs. I’m very nervous and I don’t know why. “What is it? You’re making me nervous.”
She waves me off, sits the dress to the side and stands in front of me. “Have you been back to your parents’ house, Layla?”
What? She knows I have a hard time going over there. I shake my head slowly, and bite my lip. “No, I haven’t.”
Running her fingers over my hair, she smiles down at me. “You need to, Layla. It may make you feel better.” Or not. I can’t imagine going alone. Crying myself to sleep on the couch or their bed. “Your mother asked me to keep this over the years, until it was time to give this to you.” She frowns. “I’m not sure how she knew she wouldn’t be here to give it to you, but she did.” She gives me a small smile. “It was hers when she married your dad.” Grabbing the dress, she unzips the covers and holds it in front of me.
A small, white cotton dress is hanging in on a wire hanger. There is lace around the shoulders, and it curves in at the waist. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the
soft fabric. I can imagine my father staring at my mother in this. They went to the court house and eloped behind my grandparents’ back. I heard my grandpa took it hard. “Your mother looked so lovely in this.” She smiles. “She came back from the court house with a ring on her finger and your grandpa hit the roof. Now, it’s yours. I’m sure it’ll fit. Do you want to try it on?”
“No,” I shake my head and bring the dress to my chest. “Not now. Thank you.” I stand and take my grandma in my arms. “Thank you for keeping it. I love you.”
She holds me for ten minutes before we heard Grandpa cussing down stairs. “He probably fell, the old shit,” Grandma says, wiping her eyes. “You get back to your friends. I’ll see you at dinner.” She pats my bottom and heads down the stairs.
I hold the dress against my chest for a while, before zipping it back up in its cover and heading toward the guest house.
Brett and Taylor are both in the living room when we walk in. Brett’s hand is shoved down into a bag of Doritos, and Taylor is sound asleep on the couch. He looks like a sick child. I hate seeing him like this. Cindy pops up from the kitchen, holding a glass of wine. “Look what I found.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“You sure you need that, Cindy?” She sticks her tongue out at me and guzzles more.
I swallow and take my dress upstairs without anyone asking questions. I hang it in the back of my closet. When I get downstairs Brett and Cindy are watching a movie. “What do you have planned?”
“I need to check on something.” Which is a lie. I need to talk to Damon. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I want to understand why he’s betrayed me. Why my grandparents sent him here. Grabbing my cellphone, I slip into my boots. Damon is most likely in the barn. When I invited him along for the ride, I didn’t realize he was staying here. I figured he would be with his dad, which didn’t happen.
I slip out the back door, facing the woods and start around the house. The woods creak and, even though it’s daylight, I still get the feeling someone is watching me. How could I not? Seth is out to kill us.
Damon is shoveling hay when I walk in. His shirt is off, despite the winter air, and he’s covered in mud. I watch for a minute. I can see why my grandpa wants me to end up with him. I can see the appeal. Simple. Country. Hard-working. Good-looking. But, the truth is, he will never be Taylor Jacks. He will never make me feel this full and alive. That’s who I’m supposed to be with.
“Hey,” I finally say.
He turns and leans against the pickfork in his hands. “What’s going on? Supper ready?”
“Not yet.” I take a few steps toward him and take my time looking around at the barn. I spent so much time in here growing up. It was my haven. My one place to relax. The one place I could think. “Damon … we need to talk.”
Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he takes a few steps toward me. “What about?”
Biting my lip, I contemplate what to say. “Why did you save, Taylor, Damon?”
His eyes widen and he leans on the horse stall behind him. “Would you have rather I let him die?”
I shake my head and take a few steps toward him. “No, I’m thankful.” I reach toward him but think better of it. “I just don’t understand it. You hate Taylor. Why? Why save him?”
Damon swallows and turns around to start shoveling hay, completely ignoring my question.
I stalk toward him and turn him around to face me. “Why, Damon?” I look up at him. His sweat drips from his hair and down his flat chest.
Reaching over, he pulls a piece of straw from my hair and examines it. “For you, Layla. It’s always for you.” He runs the tip of the hay down my cheek. I hate it but a bubble forms in my stomach, making my knees weak.
“So, you just saved him because of me?” I have no idea why, but this makes me angry. So, I let it all out. “Damon … I know my grandpa sent you to Ohio to watch over me. You told me my dad made you promise. If that’s true, why are you reporting back to my grandpa like a little snitch?” My voice rises as the sentence ends. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I want to understand how he could do this to me. How he could betray me. Then I think about him saving Taylor. He didn’t have to do that, he could have let him die. But, he didn’t. Only because of me.
Damon’s face reddens and he clenches his fists. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Layla. I’m not a snitch.”
I poke the center of his chest. “You are. You told my grandpa everything, Damon. He knows about Taylor. About Jason and Seth. Why?”
“Because you grandpa already knew about Jason, Layla!” He throws his hands in the air. “He’s known since he killed your parents. Dan has kept an eye on him for years. When he went missing, he sent me to watch over you. He knew he was coming to get you. That’s why your grandparents sent you to Ohio for school, so you could be all those miles away. They did it to protect you! He sent me to protect you, Layla. Your dad did ask me to keep you safe, but your grandpa was the one that sent me on my way, with the money to move. I’m sorry if I hurt you, and about lying to you, but I’m not sorry for keeping you safe.”
My grandpa knew all along. “You still lied, Damon. You still told on Taylor and I know it was because you hate him. Because you hate Taylor. And you told Grandpa we were in the barn, too. Don’t deny it. I know you did!”
“I did! I told because I saw him wrapped around you, naked. Your smooth skin tucked underneath him. I hated it. I hated seeing you with him. All this time it’s been torture for me! The truth is that I don’t hate him!” he screams. “I hate him being with you. I love you, Layla. I always will. I have since we were six-years-old. I hate that Taylor has you. I hate everything about your relationship, because it’s not a relationship with me. We were meant to be together and you won’t let yourself see it because you’re so far up Taylor’s ass – ,” I rare back and slap him across the face. It stings my hand but I keep my face straight.
He growls and grabs my wrist, bringing me face-to-face with him. Then he kisses me. Hard. So quickly the air is knocked out of me. Every ounce of my body knows this is wrong. I love Taylor. I love Damon, but in a way that he doesn’t understand. He’s like my brother. And he is not Taylor Jacks. His lips are hard, and demanding. I open my mouth to scream at him, but he plunges his tongue deeper. It’s all wrong. Soft and inviting, yes, but it’s not Taylor. It’s not the man I know. The man I love.
Pushing back from him, he stumbles from the impact. His body is shaking. “How dare you put me in this position, Damon? How dare you! You know you’re my friend! You know I love Taylor!”
“I’m … no, I’m not sorry. I won’t apologize for that. Not for wanting you. I’m not sorry I kissed you because I love you. I had to do it. I needed to feel you, Lay … ” he trails off when I take a step back from him. “I need you,” he whispers.
“Well, forcing me to kiss you isn’t the way to do it, Damon. You can’t make someone love you! This did not happen. And I didn’t want it to. I love Taylor. Get the fuck over it, Damon.” Turning, I stomp out of the barn and toward the house.
***
Grandma made pot roast for dinner and my mouth waters when I smell it. Taylor and Brett help my grandma set the table while Cindy and I place the food in the center.
Cindy pulls me to the side. “What’s up with Damon? He came over looking for you at the guest house earlier.”
Crap. I shrug and look over her shoulder at Taylor. “Cindy, you’re my best friend and I need to tell you something.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “Damon kissed me in the barn.”
“Holy fucktarts, Layla. You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish. I asked him about my grandpa, and he went into this really long story. Then we got into a small argument … and for some insane reason, he thought it was okay to kiss me. Which, obviously, it wasn’t.”
Cindy presses her hand against her chest. “Layla, to spend one day in the life of you. You have two hot guys chasing after you, and yet,
you’re always complaining.”
I frown. “Cindy, this is serious. I’m not interested in Damon.”
“Then tell him that.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I did!”
“You two girls stop gossiping and come in here to eat,” Grandma yells.
I lean around the corner before turning back to Cindy. Her blond hair is in her eyes, but I can see the devilish look. “Stop! What do I do, Cindy? Do I tell Taylor?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.” She frowns.
“Girls,” my grandma snaps.
We both scurry into the dining room and take our seats. Damon’s chair is vacant but I don’t ask where he is, because I don’t want him to be here. It’s awkward enough.
Taylor bumps my shoulder. “Have you been avoiding me?” he whispers.
My fork drops from my hand. “No, why would you ask that?”
“Just asking. Are you okay? You look sick.” He presses the back of his hand against my forehead. I look sick? You look terrible. I don’t ask him why he decided to show up for dinner, but I’m sure it’s because he doesn’t want to look rude. Beat up or not, he has to eat.
I swat him away. “I’m Fine. Fine. Great.”
Taylor gives me a what the fuck look but turns back to the table. Grandpa bursts through the back door with Damon on his heels two seconds later. His eyes go straight to Taylor and they hold. Taylor’s face is still bruised. We got most of it cleaned up and the swelling is down but you can’t hide that many bruises. Instead of asking any questions, Grandpa walks into the kitchen, washes his hands, and takes a seat in front of Taylor.
Grandma frowns as she puts the last dish on the table, but no one asks Taylor anything. I’m sure Damon’s already told them how he came to the rescue, anything to make himself look better.
Grandpa blesses our food and we dig in.
“Well, only a few days to Christmas, everybody. What’re your plans, Damon?” Grandma asks over her tea.
“I was going to have Christmas with y’all, and then head to my house before we leave.”
