Connor. I keep replaying it in my head; why did they…? The tears won’t stop. And suddenly that’s the only thing which I seem to be capable of. I sob long, ugly cries.
The rustle of the door is audible, but still it sends a shiver through me as two muscular arms engulf me. “Lay, I’m so sorry.” His voice rasps. I press my nose into his shirt, grip the cotton between my fists.
“Why did they kill him, Ky? What do I have to tell Rebel when she asks?” Again, I sob. “I left because I didn’t want this.” I gesture to my surroundings. “Life should’ve been boring, without danger. And none of those good shivers I’d get when we rode your motorcycle together. Without the fire we—” I stop myself. “Safe,” I mumble.
Kyler sits next to me on the bed and pulls me against him. “I know, girl. He took the wrong job.”
“How do you know that?” I look up at him, meeting his familiar gray eyes.
He shrugs. “I assume. Connor wasn’t someone who would put you, or Rebel, in danger.”
“That’s not good enough.” I push myself closer to him.
“What isn’t, hun?”
“Assuming. I need to know for sure.” I give him an intense look. Despite being exhausted, I just want to know more. “Why won’t you tell me what you know?”
“Because I don’t know more than you, Layne.”
“Bullshit, we both know that. It’s clear as day you heard something about his employers.” I snort, holding his gaze.
“What doyouknow about his employers?” His tone is accusing. “My ‘damned club’ and I are sticking our necks out for you, and you don’t tell me everything as well.”
“I told you everything. What I heard, that I didn’t see shit and yeah, that’s it. Because I don’t fucking know anything else, Ky. Not who he worked for, or who the men in our house were. I always thought he worked for an accountancy company, but now I’m doubting if he still worked there.” My shoulders droop and I sigh. “Never mind, Kyler. I’m not in the mood for this.”
I disappear into the bathroom, where I start the shower. My head throws me back into the past.
He puts a hand through his mid-length hair. “I’m gonna jump, Laynie.”
“Are you insane?” I yell and give Paxton a wide-eyed look, hoping he’ll say something, but nothing happens. “Did you see how high up we are?” I shout at Kyler.
That arrogant smirk makes an appearance. A couple of wayward hairs on his chin, which started to grow a couple of weeks ago. “It’s not that bad.”
‘You could fall to your death if there’s a rock beneath the surface.” My hands are sweaty and my eyes are bulging. Kyler never listens to me, why would he start now?
“I trust you to deliver a beautiful eulogy, Layne.” Then he makes a dash for it and throws himself off the cliff.
My heart seems to stop when I hear the splash, and I don’t dare to look over the edge. I gasp for breath. He survived. Right? Everything’s alright, Layne.
It takes forever before I hear something, and by that time I convinced myself something’s wrong, but Paxton is still looking over the edge. There’s no sound from him; only his stare.
Suddenly water is sloshing and Pax yells. “Oh, yeah!” When he turns to me, he says: “He did it, Layne. He fucking did it.”
It was always so easy between us, like breathing. I cast the memory from my head and rinse my hair. When I step out of the shower cabin, there’s a T-shirt and boxer briefs from Kyler ready for me. My heart skips a beat at the gesture. I want nothing more than to just think of him as an asshole, but how can I when he does nothing but help? I hate it.
Silently I slide beneath the sheets, ignoring Kyler, who’s on his side beside me, and it doesn’t take much to fall asleep, surrounded by Kyler’s spicy scent and his warmth against my back.
With a jolt, I sit upright. For a moment, I’m disoriented until the events of yesterday invade my memory. Listening to the shower running, I gaze blankly at the gray wall.
Rebel.
As fast as I can, I throw the blankets off me and jump out of the bed. I dash to the living room, searching. My breathing falters and my heartbeat’s ringing in my ears.
Where’s Rebel?
A crumpled blanket lies on the back of the sofa and on the other seat is a pillow, but my daughter is nowhere to be seen.
When my gaze slides to the kitchen, I find her familiar blond hair at the breakfast bar. I blow out a breath. Thank Christ. I rush toward her and pull her in my arms.
