Claiming Serenity

by Eden Butler

  “It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure and by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject.” Autumn gave Layla one of her motherly I’m-On-To-You frowns. “Why did you finally end things with Walter?”

  Layla lowered her shoulders, running her fingernail over the space between the edge of the table and the surface. “He wanted me to move in with him.”

  “What?” Layla tried not to laugh at how wide Mollie’s eyes grew.

  “Yep. He said he needed to ‘keep his eyes on me.’” Layla emphasized Walter’s stupid phrasing with air quotes. “When he said that, I just couldn’t stand it another second longer.” Looking around the table, Layla ignored how Mollie leaned on her elbows and how Autumn’s eyebrow lifted. Sayo seemed more interested in her phone. “Anyway, I told him I didn’t need anyone keeping their eyes on me and called him a sackless wonder.”

  “That’s mature,” Autumn said, trying not to laugh.

  “True, though.” Layla grinned at Mollie as her best friend stretched her mouth into a wide smile. “So I take it he didn’t let that go easily.”

  “Of course he didn’t. He keeps calling and texting. Fifty-two times at last count before I silenced my phone.” Swallowing, with her eyes diverted from her friends’ curious expressions, Layla took another sip of her water. “I ended up here,” she waved around the pub, “getting shitty.” With Donovan, she said to herself, hoping that Mollie—who knew her better than anyone—wouldn’t glean the slightest hint of what Layla had gotten up to the rest of that night.

  “Speaking of getting shitty, I need you guys at Joe’s by two tomorrow, for Declan’s homecoming. Dad wants us to handle the side dishes while he mans the grill,” Autumn said, pulling out her wallet when the waitress laid their tabs on the table.

  “I’m leaving the hospital at noon so it should be no problem getting there on time,” Sayo said, her voice quiet. “Is it just us?”

  “Yeah, us and Donovan. Declan didn’t want everyone from the squad there. You two will still show, right?” Autumn moved her chin and nodded at Layla and Mollie.

  Layla remained silent, watching her friends scribble on the receipts and hoping that Mollie would play along with whatever lie she was about to invent. She wasn’t ready to be around Donovan and didn’t want to see the smug grin on his face. If she went to Autumn’s barbeque and Donovan was there, she couldn’t be sure she’d be able to refrain from scratching his eyes out.

  “I’m gonna be late,” Mollie said. “I promised Vaughn that I’d work out with him at one. We won’t be long.”

  “Oh, can I tag along?” Layla didn’t like the silent, blank expressions on her friends’ face. She knew what they were thinking, but she wouldn’t help them tease her. “What?” she said releasing a long breath.

  “Honey, you want to skip barbeque to go to Vaughn’s CrossFit studio?” Autumn asked, touching Layla’s arm as though she needed to be coddled. “Are you alright?”

  “I’ve been meaning to go with her.” She nodded toward Mollie, giving her best friend a wink that only she could see.

  “But you don’t like sweating,” Sayo said.

  “What’s really…” Mollie started, but then closed her mouth when Layla leveled a glare at her.

  Layla disengaged herself from Mollie’s quizzing stare when the little girl at the next table dropped her fork and it came to rest near their table. She reached to retrieve it then handed it back, tipping the girl’s nose until she giggled.

  Mollie, though wouldn’t be put off. They had an unspoken language. One that conveyed importance, requests and the need for delicacy. The expression on Layla’s face told Mollie unequivocally, “Shut. It.” Mollie returned that look with one of her own; one Layla understood as “You. Will. Talk.”

  “We’ll be there,” Layla told Autumn, silencing any further questions her friends might have about her purposefully exerting herself and the plan she kept to herself to feign an upset stomach when it was time to make an appearance at the barbeque. But she felt Mollie’s eyes on her, knew that her best friend had every intention of finding out what Layla was hiding.

  Donovan wanted another beer, but Declan’s asshole of a brother had taken the last bottle. He stared at Quinn with his chin lowered and what he hoped was a threatening glare. Quinn O’Malley was a jackass. Three hours after meeting him and Donovan already knew that. He was taller than Declan, but not as wide, with a build that was a lucky draw from a blessed gene pool. The guy wasn’t an athlete—he just looked like one. Like his half-brother, Quinn’s hair was coal black but messier, unkempt like he just couldn’t be bothered. From what Declan had told him, Quinn hadn’t had to do much in the way of working or earning a damn thing; his rich mommy and daddy took care of that for him. Donovan couldn’t talk, but at least he was being proactive. He was getting an education. Now that both Quinn’s folks were dead, he’d begun to squander what they’d built and Declan was held responsible for stopping him before he had frittered everything away.

  Quinn further proved his asshole status by sitting on top of the damn cooler. “You’ve a problem, mate?” Quinn asked Donovan, stretching his long legs out in front of him, looking at Donovan like he was itching for a tussle.

  “Nope. Just wondering when Declan and Autumn will be back from their beer run.”

  “Not for ages, I reckon. Bit of stuff like her and I’d say bollocks to you all.” Quinn grabbed his dick, rubbing himself like an idiot. “I’d give that one a ride she’d not forget.”

  “Oy, mind your tongue, boy.” Joe, Autumn’s father, landed a hard whack to the back of Quinn’s head.

  “Bugger off, oul man.” The venom in Quinn’s voice was forced, as though he wanted Joe to think he was a threat. But there was a slight tremor in his voice and Donovan thought that Declan was right. Quinn was piss and vinegar and needed to be knocked off the pedestal he’d created for himself.

  Joe’s large fingers came around the back of Quinn’s neck and the man leaned down, his mouth inches from Quinn’s ear. Donovan pretended he wasn’t listening to Joe treating O’Malley like the punk he was.

  “This oul man will knock you into next month, you arsehole, if you sully my daughter’s name with that rotten mouth of yours.”

  Whatever insult Quinn would have thrown at Joe died on his lips when Declan came through the back gate, his arms around a case of beer, and Autumn walking at his side.

  “Alright then?” Declan asked, nodding to Joe who stood a bit too close to Quinn. “What’s he done now?”

  “I haven’t done shite, you pouncy bollocks.” Quinn’s movements were sharp, sudden and Declan stood in front of Autumn, shoulders rounded as though he expected his brother to cause trouble.

  “Pouncy bollocks? That the worst you can muster?” Declan’s laugh was condescending and bitter and it seemed to get under Quinn’s skin. He stepped in front of Declan, his mouth curled into a sneer.

  “Alright, that’s enough.” Joe came between the two brothers and neither seemed to like it, but something behind Declan’s shoulder caught Quinn’s attention and he seemed to forget the insult he planned for Joe and his brother.

  Declan turned, handing over the case to Donovan as Quinn walked past him, his eyes zeroed in on Sayo as she met Autumn in the center of the patio.

  “Jaysus,” Quinn said, running his fingers through his thick hair. Actually, Donovan couldn’t blame the guy. Sayo was almost too beautiful, with a tiny frame, yet elegant long limbs and eyes that were darker than an oil slick. Even the vividly dyed pink hair didn’t diminish her beauty and Donovan understood why Quinn had forgotten his argument with Declan—he got it all too well. Before the younger Irishman could take two steps in Sayo’s direction, both Donovan and Declan moved in front of him.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Donovan bent his head, eyes hard and threatening. He didn’t like the look on Quinn’s face or what that expression told him Quinn wanted to do to Sayo.

  “She yours, Donley?”

  “Sh
e’s off limits.” There was no flinch, no instance of caution in Quinn’s posture when Donovan got right in his face. It was a pissing match, one Donovan wouldn’t back down from. Sayo wasn’t his, would never be his, but she didn’t need some entitled jackass screwing with her. Especially not right now. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t even breathe the same air she does.”

  The bastard grinned like Donovan’s threats were nothing, like he was accustomed to ignoring warnings. “And if I do?”

  “Then we’ll have a problem.”

  Declan stood just between his brother and his best friend, eyeing Quinn with that cool, composed smirk of his that Donovan knew meant he was gearing up to throw his considerable weight around. “Get this straight right bloody now. Those girls,” Declan threw a nod in the direction of the grill where Sayo and Autumn chatted with Joe, “aren’t to be messed about. Not one of Autumn’s mates. They aren’t to be bothered. You do that, little brother, and you’ll have greater problems than keeping out of prison.”

  The fire went out of Quinn’s eyes and he frowned, spat once on the ground right next to Declan’s foot and muttered “Bugger off” before he turned back into the house with his brother watching after him, shaking his head.

  “O’Malley is an arsehole,” the Irishman said, handing Donovan a beer.

  “He needs to learn to watch his mouth, Deco.”

  “I’ve punched him twice, mate. Both times well deserved, mind you. That jaw of his is fecking solid. Knocking him about does nothing. Lord, he’s barely here for half a day and already he’s trying to chat up my woman and hacking off anyone who looks at him. He only stopped running his gob when Autumn kneed him in the bollocks after he went for her arse.”

  Donovan choked back a smile, coughing when he spotted the proud expression on his best friend’s face. That grin widened and Declan winked at Autumn as she called to him across the patio. The look they shared had Donovan rolling his eyes, staring over the large fence surrounding the property. He meant to walk off, not eager to stand witness as Declan and Autumn eye fucked each other at two in the afternoon. But the redhead pulled her attention to Mollie and Vaughn as they walked through the back gate, then she came to Declan’s side as her friends greeted each other.

  Her stare was skeptical and suspicious as she looked up at Donovan. “Okay, spill.”

  “About what?” Donovan said, worried momentarily that Layla had been running her mouth. He didn’t need a lecture from Autumn or a throttling from Declan for acting like Quinn.

  “Layla.” Autumn crossed her eyes, frowned and Donovan’s heartbeat sped an extra beat. He managed to force a smile, try for nonchalance as he felt both Autumn and Declan’s stare sharp and calculating.

  “No idea what you’re talking about,” he told Autumn, taking a long swig from his beer.

  “Mollie said Layla made a pathetic excuse for not showing today, claiming she felt shitty. Which I know is bullshit. She wouldn’t miss Joe’s ribs for anything unless she didn’t want to avoid drama. So, it has to be you.”

  Donovan swallowed, annoyed that the little brat was complicating an already messed up situation. But he remained calm, kept his composure and shrugged, dismissing Autumn’s accusation. “That girl is crazy, Autumn. I haven’t done anything to her.”

  The redhead opened her mouth, likely had another meddlesome question ready, but Donovan waved her off as he walked over to join Mollie and Vaughn, ignoring Declan when he called after him. He closed his eyes once, trying to forget about Layla and her stupid excuses.

  “Hey man,” he greeted Vaughn, patting his shoulder.

  “You good?” The Marine was tall, taller and much wider than Donovan and if Donovan hadn’t known the guy, he might have been intimated. But he did know Vaughn, and knew that he was a protector, keeping Mollie safe after the threats that had been made to her a few months back.

  “I heard your cousin placed in the CrossFit regionals. A buddy of mine told me he was training him.” Donovan nodded, but didn’t really hear the Marine when he began explaining the program that Donovan’s cousin would have to endure for competition.

  Donovan’s mind was too full of memory, of sensation—of Layla’s skin sweaty and shining in the low light of his bedroom; her stomach muscles flexing as Donovan kissed her navel. He’d been drunk, he’d been careless, but he’d wanted Layla. He wanted her again. But she was an infuriating brat. She was the nuisance that complicated everything, that had his best friend staring at him across the patio, a silent warning working across his face.

  Layla was a splinter underneath Donovan’s fingernail, throbbing, bothering him daily, for years, ever since he could remember. He’d only gotten a break from her after their fathers had their falling out when Donovan was eighteen, back when his father was still a damn drunk fucking up everyone’s lives. But then Layla’s friend Autumn had hooked up with his best friend Declan and, well, her irritating presence had been forced back into his life. And like all irritations, Layla needed handling. Donovan thought a conversation about her dumb excuses was a good place to start.

  Oh, yes… the next time he saw that girl, they were going to have a little talk, no excuses. He wasn’t letting her off that easy.

  Mondays were usually a hive of activity in Marshall Hall but today it was quiet. There were five classrooms in each of the three hallways on the first floor and the offices on the second floor hid the Business and Marketing professors as they slept through their free period. That warm August day, however, the quiet that normally came behind the snores of professors stealing naps, was broken periodically by a group of freshmen foreign exchange students, all girls, who had just watched their first rugby practice. Their squealing and chatter was damn loud in the stillness.

  Donovan had been the first player to lose his shirt during their weekly drills and as he waited beneath the curved, wooden staircase in the center of the lobby, shadowed from the high squeals of eighteen year olds, he thought that, perhaps that hadn’t been the best of ideas. Afterwards, they’d chased him into Marshall Hall like he was Bieber when he was fresh, before he turned into an obnoxious, party-throwing asshole. But, Donovan wasn’t hiding. Squealing freshmen, he could handle. Skittish brats who draw attention to Donovan’s business? Yeah, not so much.

  He knew Layla’s schedule simply because it had taken him weeks to figure out how to get back at her for the glitter fiasco. He’d followed her, watched when she left her Marketing class, her leather fashion design sketchbook always under her arm, and how often she hurried through the lobby avoiding the over-eager T.A. who crushed on her. That day, though, Layla didn’t hurry. She didn’t try to avoid the T.A. because he was not there. Layla was, in fact, quite alone, adjusting the loose, silk turquoise tank top she wore, fiddling with her high-waist black geometric shorts, sporting a ridiculously large silver necklace, and Donovan smiled to himself in silent approval as he watched Layla duck away from the crowded lobby and back toward the hallway.

  He followed immediately.

  There was no warning, no preamble to his actions. Footsteps behind her, she managed a quick look over her shoulder as she adjusted her turquoise bag, and immediately scowled at him as he took her arm, slipping with her into an empty classroom before she was even able to slap his hand away.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  He could tell she didn’t like him standing so close to her. Layla’s chin lifted, her eyebrows arched in an inflated Disney-villainous manner that he found almost funny. Naturally, he stepped closer.

  “We need to have a discussion about how you behave around our friends.”

  “Excuse me?” Her indignation was real by the tight cross of her arms and ram-rod straight posture that made her arms stiffen.

  “Autumn noticed that something was up. You begged off Joe’s barbeque to work out with Mollie and Vaughn, then fake sick and you think no one would notice?”

  Layla recovered, quickly, and Donovan tried not the think that her small blus
h was cute, tried to disregard the impulse to see if he could make her blush deeper.

  “I don’t see how that’s your problem.” She pulled at that chunky necklace, then fanned herself with her hand and Donovan didn’t think her reaction had anything to do with the warm temperature in the room or the musty smell of chalk that crowded the board next to them.

  “It became my problem when Autumn assumed you skipping the party was because I did something to you.”

  Layla flipped her long, white blonde hair off her shoulder and, though it seemed impossible, she lifted her chin even higher. “So.”

  Donovan didn’t fight the smile that had his cheeks twitching. He moved toward Layla, fingers stretching as he tried to keep himself from touching her. “So… you can’t start acting like you don’t wanna be around me. We’ve never avoided each other before, no matter how vicious the pranks got. We can’t start doing that now.”

  Layla glared at Donovan like he stunk. Which, if he was being honest, he probably did, but that was not the point at all. The little brat’s haughty attitude mixed up Donovan’s head and he couldn’t decide, just then, if he wanted to scream at her or kiss her senseless. Then that constant sneer shook her top lip—Donovan thought he must really smell awful—and Layla spoke with a growl that was almost scary. But just almost. “I wasn’t avoiding you and since when do you care what Autumn or anyone else thinks?”

  “Hey, listen,” he said through a laugh, enjoying how pinched her face became as he waved his hand, acted as though the whole situation had been nothing but a fun little ride for him. Nothing made him happier than pissing her off. Well. Pissing her off and then having her come at him like she wanted him naked. “You want them finding out, it’s no problem for me. Declan will give me shit about it, but the deed is done. I just thought you wanted to keep our little thing, quiet.” He stepped forward, loving how those narrowed eyes of hers immediately rounded and she stepped back like he was a threat. He was totally a threat. When he pushed Layla’s soft hair away from her eyes, his fingers ignoring his brain’s impulse to keep from touching her, those bright, rough eyes only grew wider. God, he loved how easy it was to get under her skin. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” Another step and Layla’s back hit the wall next to the door and that obnoxious bag of hers fell to the floor. “Unless you want me getting in those guts again.”