“And then I went into labor. He was there, saw me, threw me in a cab, and called Brae.” She shrugs, and I can hear the heaviness from fear of what could’ve happened in her voice.
I’m still not happy about that assface showing up to talk to my woman, but he helped her when she needed it. I cringe inwardly. “Shit.” I run my hand over my head. “Guess I owe the guy an apology for the beating, eh?”
“Beating!” Her hand shoots out to grip my forearm. “What did you do?”
I have a hard time meeting her eyes, not wanting to show her my guilt. “I, uh . . . may’ve expressed my irritation at him showing up and confronting Axelle with a little fist-to-face therapy.”
She’s silent, and when I pull my eyes up to hers, she’s white, her mouth gaping.
“Baby, you okay?” I run my fingers along her hairline to tuck a long strand behind her ear.
“He saw Axelle?” She blinks and swings her gaze to mine, color coming back to her cheeks slowly until her expression fires with anger. “He effing confronted my daughter!”
I roll my lips between my teeth to avoid laughing.
“He had no right to do that, Blake. And when I was in labor and couldn’t protect her.” She hammers her fist into the bed. “What a dick!”
“You sayin’ no apology then?” A mellow chuckle escapes my lips.
Her eyes meet mine and fury melts into determination. “Tell me you got a good one in, just one solid knock to his jaw.”
I shrug one shoulder. “UFL didn’t hire me because I make kick-ass cookies, Mouse. What do you think?”
She snorts and nods. “Good.”
“Wish I could take credit for the first punch.”
Her eyes narrow. “Brae?”
I lift one eyebrow. “Killer.”
She sighs and drops her head back to the pillow. “God, I love that kid.”
“Pretty sure Killer’s after our girl.”
“Well, if anyone has the patience for Axelle, it’s him.”
We sit in silence, Layla staring at Jack, and my eyes bouncing between my son and my woman.
“You tired?”
“Mm-hm.” Her head lolls to the side, a peaceful smile on her face. “You want to take him?”
I carefully scoop up my tiny boy and hold him to my chest.
Amazing how quick life can change. There are periods where we soar and some where we plummet, but as long as we hold fast to what matters, fight for the things that count, we die happy knowing we did our best to battle for what matters most.
Twenty
Blake
The sun sinks behind the distant mountains as I rock my son in a chair by the window while Layla sleeps. His face is peaceful as he sleeps except for the occasional baby grunt or twitch of his tiny lips.
His hair is the color of gold and he’s got a ton of it. It’s hard to say who he resembles more, but I can already tell he’s got his mother’s nose and her perfect chin. I lean down, placing a kiss on both, overwhelmed with gratitude that a woman as amazing as Layla would fall in love with me. Warts and all.
“You need to eat.” Killian has been trying to get Axelle to eat for the past hour, but she refuses. If the tension in his voice is any indication, I’d say he’s getting past taking no for an answer. “Come on. Up.”
I peek over to see Killer standing, his hand offered to Axelle, but she has her arms crossed at her chest and she’s glaring. My lips tick and I turn back to my son to hide my amusement. Stubborn as hell, just like her mother.
“I’m not going, Killian. I’m not leaving my mom.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital cafeteria, not fucking Siberia,” Killer whisper-hisses and I almost lose my shit and bust up laughing.
She lifts her palm to his face. “Hold on . . . are you yelling at me in rhymes? This isn’t ‘Eight Mile,’ Eminem.”
That’s it. I lose it. A long and low chuckle gurgles up my throat and the baby stirs.
“You’re a pain in the ass.” Killer moves to the door. “I’ll grab you something and bring it back.” His eyes swing to me. “You want something, man?”
“No thanks, Slim Shady.”
Axelle giggles and Killer growls before storming out of the room.
I swivel my chair to face her. “Kiddo . . . he’s right, ya know?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. “Whatever.”
“Why’re you so hard on him?”
“I’m not hard on him.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just not hungry.”
“Axelle . . .” There’s a warning in my voice that has her up and stomping towards the door.
She glares for a few seconds and pain works behind her eyes. It’s as if she knows she’s hurting him but can’t help it. “Fine. I’ll find him.” She throws back the door a little harder than she has to.
Poor kid. I feel sorry for Killian. He’s had a thing for Axelle from the beginning, but she’s been through a lot this last year, and ever since Stew showed up on her doorstep, she hasn’t been the same. She’ll come around eventually. If Killer wants her bad enough, he’ll wait.