Being surrounded by them, by their warmth and quiet presence, I feel something close to steady.
And when I glance over at Reed, his eyes already on me, I realize he’s the reason I made it out at all.
reed
. . .
The entire family has been stuck here for the past few days since Layla shared what she’s been through; they’re just acting like a family should.
Maverick is lying on the rug next to Leo on his baby mat, babbling at him while Amelia sits crisscross, gently rubbing slow circles along his back.
Carter and Catalina sit together on the couch, with her reading her gossip blogs while he rubs her growing belly.
Layla looks better today; she finally got out of bed and is sitting on the floor with Mav, playing with Leo.
She looks brighter, her smile slowly returning.
The bruises might be fading, but I know this will never truly go away. And I’ll make damn sure I spend the rest of my life ensuring she always feels safe in my home, in my arms, with me.
I yearn to touch her, to hold her, but the girls don’t know about us, and there’s never a right time to say it. I’ll let her take the lead; she’s been through enough.
Catalina’s laugh rings out. “Reed Hayes, are you justgonna stand there starin’ at her, or are you gonna come sit down like a normal person?”
Maverick snorts, glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah, man, you’re creeping.”
“Watch it,” I mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.
Amelia smirks. “You are kinda brooding.”
“Brooding?” I arch a brow. “You all share the same vocabulary.”
“Maybe,” Amelia says, grinning.
I shake my head, attempting to dismiss it, but the reality is—I am brooding. I can’t escape it.
Layla seems more vibrant today, lighter, like she’s beginning to find herself again. However, I notice the ghosts lingering in her eyes when she believes no one is looking.
And every time I see them, I want to pull her into my arms and promise her that no one will ever hurt her again.
So I remain where I am, allowing her to laugh with them and gradually rebuild parts of herself in her own time.
Until then, I’ll keep standing here, memorizing the sound of her laugh, how she runs her fingers through Leo’s soft hair, and the subtle curve of her smile when she notices me looking.
It’s enough, for now.
By noon, the house smells like a Sunday cookout. Carter’s infamous ribs are slow-roasting in the oven, Catalina’s got three pots on the stove, and Maverick’s been caught “taste-testing” at least six times.
“Swear to God, Mav,” Catalina warns, pointing a wooden spoon at him. “If you touch that mac and cheese one more time, I’ll break your hand. The baby is craving this. I’ll hurt you.”
He grins, already backing away with a bite in his mouth. “Worth it.”
Amelia rolls her eyes from the counter where she’s slicing cornbread. “You have no self-control.”
“Funny, you don’t seem to mind when I’m deep in?—”
She bumps his hip with hers, cutting him off. “MAVERICK!”
Carter snorts from his spot at the sink, drying a dish. “Y’all are exhausting.”
