Layne knew Merry loved his sister, more than anyone on this earth, but he was done.
“One more word, Merry,” Layne said softly. “You know me better than that shit. One more word, I’m gonna take it personal.”
“Any other time, I’d know she could fight her corner –”
“This morning, I didn’t know she’d left Astley and I didn’t know any of this shit. You also know what happened between us and you know what it did to me. Cut me some fuckin’ slack.”
“Yeah,” Merry said quietly, his face had changed, it had gone soft, but his eyes had grown intense. “Yeah, brother. I know what it did to you.” He paused, leaned in and his voice dropped even quieter. “I know what happened too, I know more than you, brother. I know why it happened so maybe you’ll cut Roc some slack.”
Layne felt his body freeze again but before he could say a word, Merry finished.
“Got a date.”
Then he reached down, nabbed his smokes off the table and walked into the house.
Layne grabbed his smokes too and shook one out.
Today was a two cigarette day.
Absolutely.
Chapter Three
White Hat
At two o’clock that morning, Layne stood outside Merry’s condo door and knocked, loudly.
He’d gone home, he’d made certain the boys had their homework done and he’d gone to bed. He was going to sleep on it, think on it, consider his strategies after he fucked things up so royally that morning with Raquel.
Then he couldn’t get it out of his head. None of it. Her husband fucking around on her. Her sleeping on her brother’s couch for two months. Her going in to do whatever the hell she was going to do to find dirt on Rutledge but mostly whatever the hell she was going to do to get Rutledge to trust her.
So he got up, got dressed, got in his truck and went to Merry’s.
Merry’s car wasn’t in the lot; he was sleeping elsewhere that night, as usual.
Rocky’s Mercedes was there.
When she didn’t answer, he knocked louder.
He heard her at the door before he saw her, hopefully checking the peephole. Then the outside light came on and the door opened. She was standing there and with one look at her, the breath went clean out of him.
First, because she was wearing a big t-shirt. She’d worn big t-shirts to bed, his, when they were living together (and before, she’d confiscated several while they were dating). This one was a blue, Indianapolis Colts tee and he knew it wasn’t Jarrod Astley’s because the man was taller than her, but slim, and she swam in it. If he thought about it, he’d have guessed she’d graduate to silk, satin and lace. She had not. Something about this hit him and it hit him hard.
Second, because she had her hair down. He hadn’t seen much of her the last year he was home but it wasn’t exactly a bustling city they lived in. He saw her – at Mimi’s, at Frank’s, coming out of Reggie’s with a pizza, at the grocery store. She always had her hair up, in a ponytail, a twist, a clip, a bun. Now it was down and it was longer than he expected. Longer even than when they were together. Long and thick and tousled around her face, over her shoulders, down her chest. Christ. Gorgeous.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her voice sounding funny, scared and he knew she was worried about Merry.
And he took advantage of that fear. Instead of answering straight away, like she had that morning, he walked right through her but he stopped close, closed the door and locked it before he moved into the condo and saw the bed pulled out of the couch, the covers mussed. Merry had a multitude of beds he could choose to sleep in; he should let Rocky have his.
Once he successfully gained entry, he turned to her. “If you’re worried about Merry, he’s fine. He’s probably a lot more than fine just about now.”
She stared at him unblinking then she turned to the door then she looked back at him.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Why’d you come to the hospital?” he asked back and watched her body lock. There was only one lamp lit in the living room but he saw it lock to statue-still as the confusion and sleep swept out of her face and she went on alert.
“Sorry?”
“When I was shot, why’d you come to the hospital?”
She straightened her shoulders. This took effort, he could tell, but she did it. It also took time. Just a bit of it but enough for her to come up with a believable lie.
“You were at Jarrod’s hospital and I just happened to be –”
He cut her off. “Bullshit, Roc, you left Jarrod two months ago.”
He watched her lips thin and she glared at him.
Then she whispered, “Merry,” and he knew he’d thrown Merry right under the bus. He also didn’t care.
“Why’d you come to the hospital?” he repeated.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Answer me, Rocky.”
She crossed her arms on her chest. “Go home, Layne.”
“Okay, you don’t wanna answer that,” he shrugged, took a step toward her and stopped, “then why’d you come by this morning?”
“I think you ate the reason why tonight,” she answered.
“Bullshit again, Raquel. You know Merry and I talked tonight.”
“Yes, well,” she threw a hand out and then crossed it right back on her chest, “I had an alternate reason for coming to your house this morning. After your fond farewell, however, I decided I no longer have that reason.”
He took another step toward her and she held her ground but her eyes flashed their warning and he stopped.
“We should talk about that,” he said softly.
“Oh no. No we shouldn’t. I think you said enough this morning.”
“Rocky, you showed up out of the blue, stormed into my house, fed my dog, made me a cup of coffee, gave my boy advice on what to have for breakfast and I haven’t spoken to you in eighteen years except groggy in a hospital bed after being shot three times,” he reminded her.