Page 84 of Scouting the Single Dad

I broke the one rule I have for Benny and me the second I said yes to Layla staying here. Because it felt harmless. Because it felt good to be reckless for once.

I shouldn’t have asked Layla to come. Never should have had her stay here—she should be in a hotel.

Protect the perimeter.

But then from upstairs, Benny laughs again, and nothing about this feels wrong.

Layla is out of state, yes. The logistics are a nightmare. Long distance with a kid is like juggling knives on a treadmill.

I know all of that.

So maybe the answer isn’t to shove Layla to the curb. Maybe the answer is to be the fucking adult I keep pretending to be. Set the pace, choose careful over being cowardly. Go slow. Be honest. Make no promises I can’t keep . . .

Light footfalls return to the stairs.

My heart does the stupid stutter it always does right before I run out onto a field.

Layla rounds the corner to the living room. “Burrito complete,” she whispers, sliding back beside me, already reaching for a snuggle blanket. “She’s out like a light.”

“Good.”

Maybe tonight I just sit with the ideas in my head instead of voicing them to Layla.

Let all the what-ifs settle in my chest.

Chapter 20

Layla

Is it my imagination, or is he being weird?

He’s sitting too straight on the couch, when he should be relaxed. Smiles without showing teeth.

The house is quiet except for the dryer doing lazy laps. Pool lights throw a ripple of blue across the kitchen bay windows; somewhere outside a sprinkler hisses and clicks on.

He was fine before Skylar dropped Benny off and they had their quiet conversation . . .

Don’t poke at him, Layla. Don’t pry . . .

Whatever it was, IT’S None of Your Business.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself, and instantly groan along with it. Jeez, Layla, that is one thing guys hate! Snooping!

“I . . .” He takes a pillow and sets it on his lap. “I’m not sure.”

Oh.

Ohh . . .

Why was I expecting him to lie and say, “Yes,” and then change the subject. Deflect. Say nothing is wrong.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I add quickly as heat climbs my neck.

He thumbs the corner of the pillow like he’s smoothing a crease that isn’t there. “It’s not . . . bad. Just a lot.” His eyes flick to mine and away. “Benny.”

My hand reaches for his. “Is everything okay? Did something happen while they were all at dinner?”

Hayes waffles, indecision etched across his brow. “Yes and no.”