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.
What the hell was that?