Page 13 of Labor of Love

“Thanks, Lay.”

“Tell me I’m not my mother.” It’s barely an audible whisper before I’m in her arms.

“You’re nothing like her. Clint was a jerk, but you left. That’s so fucking strong and brave and I don’t even know all the details––which slightly annoys me.” She’d have ripped his dick off and fed it to him in the middle of the street if she knew all the details. Hell, she still would.

“You know enough, Kar. I’m free from it all.” But my eyes sway to the couch. “This is the last time I will take in a drunk person, Karli.”

“I promise.”

“Tylenol? Advil?” Parker asks, tossing Stetson’s shoes on the floor and walking to the kitchen for water.

“I don’t have anything.” Not a lie. Thankfully, I don’t get headaches and can tolerate my period cramps.

“You’re in for a fun morning, buddy.” Parker chuckles, setting the water on the coffee table. “Nighty night.”

“You’re the best,” Karli says as they head out.

Stetson and I stare at each other. “You actually drunk?” I’ve never seen anyone this quiet. He sits up, reaching for the trash can and emptying his stomach. “For fuck’s sake, Stetson.” It comes out more pathetic than mad.

Finishing up, he goes to stand.

“Don’t.” I hand him the paper towel, and I take the trash can to rinse. Eww.

“You’re-you’re why I left bull riding,” he whispers, freezing me as I re-enter the living room.

Sure.

“And I’m secretly a world-renowned artist.”

“You never left my thoughts.” Oh, the drunken words...

“Did you grow tired of the women at your disposal?” The media has shown him with copious amounts who rank an eleven on a scale of one to ten. I’m not going to be his last resort, but I can try being civil. Anything more would flay me open.

“You mean all three women in the past two and a half years?”

“Two more people than me.” I’m not buying it.

“I don’t want another woman. Sex is about connection. The way I held you that night...nothing has compared.” My eyes bounce from painting to painting, avoiding his bereft stare.

“But I was so inexperienced.” Huffing annoyed, he’s had to have had better. “I’m sure the girls you were with in high sch⁠—”

“I lost my virginity the night you did, Layla.” Whoa. My stomach drops, taking the air from my lungs with it.

I lost my virginity the night you did, Layla.

His words loop in my head as if they’ll change over time.

I lost my virginity the night you did, Layla.

“No, no you didn’t.” Not that I’d have anything to compare it to. “Stetson, you were twenty-one.” Disbelief crashes into me with the truth.

“Age didn’t measure the depth of the connection my soul needed. I wanted the right woman and moment.” I stabilize myself against the wall as my brain spins. “You and I reached a different level emotionally when I was home. That experience with you.” This is too much for this hour of the night.

Then he gags. He’s still drunk, and the memory of tonight will probably be obliterated by morning.

“Sleep it off, Stetson.” He goes to argue, not a sound making it past his lips. His gaze lingers as I turn toward my room, the bed calling out to me. Though there’s no way in hell I’m falling back to sleep after all that.

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