He was in the kitchen clearing out the coffeemaker to get it ready for coffee the next morning when he heard her heels hit the tiles. His neck twisted and his eyes hit her, hers hit him, she gave him a scorching glare as she walked up to him, snatched her purse from the counter by the coffeemaker, turned smartly then started to walk back to the stairs.
Tripp was at the coffee table in the living room with his books. Devin was on the couch with his beer.
Before Rocky turned the corner, Layne announced loudly, “Boys, Roc and I are hittin’ the sack.”
Her body jerked and she tossed her head but, other than that, her heels on the tiles didn’t miss a beat.
From his place on the floor, Tripp looked at his old man over the back of the couch and Devin did it from his place on the couch.
Then Tripp called, “’Night Rocky,” like he’d been saying goodnight to her while she walked to his father’s bed since he could talk.
“Goodnight, Tripp,” Layne heard Rocky call back from the stairs.
“Donuts tomorrow, darlin’,” Dev added.
“Right, Dev. Goodnight,” Rocky’s voice was fading.
Tripp dropped his head and grinned at his books. Devin didn’t move and grinned at Layne. Layne prepared the coffee for the next morning and he prepared it so it’d make a big pot.
Then he walked to his cell phone on the counter, flipped it open and called Jasper.
Not surprisingly, it rang four times before Jasper answered with an impatient, “Yeah Dad?”
“Do me a favor, on the way home from droppin’ off Keira, stop at the store and pick up a toothbrush for Roc,” Layne told him.
There was a beat of silence then, impatience gone, a smile in his voice, Jasper replied, “Gotcha.”
“Be smart,” Layne said as good-bye and flipped the phone shut, placed it on the counter and called goodnight to his son and Devin as he walked up the stairs.
When he arrived in his room, Rocky was in his t-shirt and in his bed. She was sitting cross-legged, the covers were pulled up over her lap, she had the remote in her hand resting on her thigh, her eyes on the TV and her hair was out of the twist but it was now back in a ponytail, the ponytail full and wild from her hair being twisted up all day.
Her eyes came to him instantly and just as instantly she asked on a snap, “What do we need to talk about?”
Layne closed the doors behind him and walked to the dresser saying, “Jesus, sweetcheeks, give me a minute.”
“I’m tired,” she announced.
He pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms, looked to his watch, turned to her and said, “It’s ten to ten.”
“I go to sleep at ten o’clock every night, no fail or I’m crabby in the morning.”
She was so full of shit. He believed she went to bed at ten, she’d done that when she was with him. Rocky was early to bed and early to rise. But she was a morning person, always woke up in a good mood, even if she’d gone to bed late because she was studying or they were out.
“Give me a minute,” Layne repeated, turning to head into the bathroom.
“Is this going to take long?” she called after him.
“It will if you don’t give me a minute,” Layne called back then turned and stood in the large archway that led to the bathroom. “Though I could change in here.”
Her eyes shot to the TV as she mumbled, “I’ll give you a minute.”
Layne pressed his lips together to bite back his smile, walked through the bathroom and into the walk-in closet. Well out of Rocky’s sight, he pulled off his clothes, threw them in the direction of the laundry hamper Melody bought him, a hamper you couldn’t see because of the clothes piled on and around it, then he pulled up his pajamas. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth then he walked into his room.
Rocky’s eyes stayed glued to the TV as he rounded the bed and got in, shoving up the pillows, he settled with his back to them on the headboard, his body on top of the covers, legs stretched out in front of him and ankles crossed.
Even after he was in, Rocky didn’t tear her eyes from the TV.
“Can you mute that, sweetcheeks?” he requested
It took her a second to comply and when she did, her head turned to him but her body stayed facing the TV across the room from the foot of the bed.
She lifted her brows.
Layne smiled at her.
“Well?” she prompted.
“I need your help with something,” he told her.
“What?”
He slid down, rolled to his side toward her and put his head in his hand, his elbow into the pillows. Her body tensed as he did this and didn’t relax until he stopped moving.
“It’s about Gabby,” Layne told her and Rocky’s eyes got wide then, almost immediately, they blanked.
“What about Gabby?”
That’s when Layne told her about Stew and about Gabby, most everything about Stew and also a lot about Gabby. He didn’t leave much out including the fact that Gabrielle was living blind and acting desperate to keep hold of a shitheel of a man.
When he was done talking, she’d shifted so she had her body turned toward him, the remote in the bed beside her and her hands held loosely together in her lap. Her face had also grown soft and her eyes had grown warm.
“Poor Gabby,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Layne whispered back.
“So what do you need my help with?” she asked.
“I gotta know how to play this,” Layne answered and her head tilted to the side in confusion.
“How to play it? Layne, you do what that Ryker guy said and make him pay through the nose and then get him behind bars.”
“I’m not Gabby’s favorite person, baby, she isn’t gonna thank me for getting involved.”