The city passes me in a blur, buildings thinning and lights growing farther apart as I head east.
I keep my eyes on the road, my hands steady on the wheel, even as my heart still races.
And in the quiet of my car, I hear Reed’s voice, the way it always is when he is trying to ground me without taking anything from me.
You’re safe now, sunshine.
reed
. . .
Icouldn’t sleep at all last night.
It’s about eleven in the morning, and sports news is blaring on the screen about a young NHL rookie, Beckett Walker, joining the Opal Springs home team, The Renegades.
The bar is closed today. I told everyone to take the day off; I couldn’t stand working with the way I feel.
I’m half-dozing when I hear three soft knocks on the front door.
My brow furrows.
Probably Maverick with his foolishness.
I groan, pushing off the couch. “If that’s you, Maverick, I swear to God?—”
Gripping the handle, I force the door open, ready to be manhandled by my oaf of a brother, but when I open the door, the words die on my tongue.
Layla’s standing there.
She looks like hell.
Her eyes are red, her mascara streaked as she’s clutchingher suitcase handle. Her blonde hair’s tangled, her lip split, and under the porch light, I notice faint bruising along her neck, jaw, and under her eye, but I can barely see it without my glasses.
“Layla?” My voice breaks on her name.
She tries to smile, but it comes out as a tremor. “Reed.”
My body moves before my mind catches up.
Two steps are all it takes before I scoop her up into my arms, and it takes everything in me not to break down right here.
Shit, she’s shaking.
It’s not from the crisp autumn bite, but from fear, and my heart shatters each time her body trembles against mine.
I wrap her tighter as my hand cradles the back of her head, brushing the strands of her golden hair, trying to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into her hair, pushing the front door open with my foot. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
She let out this tiny, broken sound, and I feel it straight in my ribcage.
“Let’s take you inside, baby,” I murmur, carrying her across the threshold. “You’re safe now. I promise. You’re with me.”
And God help me, I meant every word.
I close the door, and the silence between us feels deafening.
Setting her down gently, I grab my glasses from the end table by the front door and slide them on. I flip the light switch, and my stomach drops when I can see her clearly.
