Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

“Let me take you out tomorrow night,” I say into her hair.

“I can’t.” She pushes out of the hug, but I keep my arms around her. “I have plans tonight.”

“Plans?” The word vibrates from my chest. Adrenaline once again roars through my veins.

She places her palms on my chest and tilts her head back to look at me. “I told you the other day. I’m going out with Raven.”

Oh, thank fuck. “Where’re you girls going?”

“We thought we’d grab some dinner, maybe go watch Ataxia. It won’t be a late night since I have to work Saturday at, um, you know.” A pink hue colors her cheeks.

The publicity party at Flesh. Like I could forget. “All right, Mouse.” I place a quick kiss on her head and release her from my hold. “Another time then.”

A flash of disappointment registers in her expression. I wrestle with the urge to grin like a kid.

She picks at the logo on my tee. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, right? At the—”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Watching over you and wishing like hell I could lock you away to keep you safe.

“Maybe we could, you know, go grab a bite after?”

Battle lost, I grin. “You askin’ me out?”

She smacks my chest, and the bell-like sound of her laughter trickles from her lips and straight to my gut. “You said you wanted to go out.”

I flatten her hand against my chest and hold her to me. “Oh, I do.” Cupping her jaw, I run my thumb along her bottom lip. So plump and kissable… fuck, I’d bite it if I could. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Mouse.”

Her eyes dart to the side, like she’s looking to see who’s watching. “Blake—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you again unless you ask.”

The disappointment is back, but this time it lingers. My chest swells with satisfaction. She wants this.

And I’d be a lying fool if I said I didn’t want it too.





Fifteen


Layla

“He did what?” Raven slams down her glass, sending cranberry juice over the lip. “In front of Taylor?”

I take a quick look around the restaurant where we’ve been eating, drinking, and gabbing for the last hour. With an apologetic smile to the couple one table over, I sip my wine. “No, he’d left. But Jonah and the guys were all there.”

“Oh, I’m so having a talk with him.” She pulls out her cell phone.

I reach over and cover her dialing hand. “No, you can’t. We already talked about it.”

Her aquamarine eyes narrow at me. “Please tell me he apologized.”

“Yeah, he did.” I smile at the memory of him explaining himself. I’d never seen him look so vulnerable. “It was really sweet.”

Her pinched expression smoothes. “He means well. These guys aren’t used to feeling anything for a woman beyond sex.”

I run my fingertip along the stem of my wine glass. “You think Blake feels something for me?”

She snorts and looks at me like I’d just asked her if the sky is blue. “You’re kidding, right? He’s not the type who goes out of his way for just anyone.”

Memories from the night when Elle came home drunk infiltrate my thoughts. His quiet support when I spoke about my marriage, and his advice on how to deal with Elle. Which reminds me…

“I hope it’s okay, but Blake told me about your place. Raven’s Nest?”

She nods.

We talked earlier about what brought me to Vegas, and I gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of my old life.

“I’m sure you can imagine after our move and my divorce, Elle’s been having a hard time adjusting. Blake suggested that we check out your place, maybe get some counseling.”

She doesn’t say anything, and nerves have me rushing to fill the dead air between us. “I’m so afraid that if I don’t jump on getting help, it’ll be too late. It may already be too late, but I have to try.”

She stares at me, unmoving for a few seconds, and then blinks. “That’s a good idea. We have some great therapists on staff.” Phone in hand, she taps something onto the screen. “There. I sent you the contact info. Ask for Milena. That’s my mom.”

Her mom? “Great. Thank you. I know it’s probably weird me asking you for all this help, first my car, now this, but—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m happy to do it. It’s nice to see a mom who cares enough about her relationship with her daughter to fight for it.” The sadness in her eyes is hard to look at. “I get it, Layla. Things haven’t always been good between my mom and me, but we’re working on repairing old wounds.”

“Are you sure that’s possible? I mean, some hurts run deep. What if the damage is too much?”

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