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“Did you hear me, Lyla?” Jasmine asks, and I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
“Sorry, I zoned out. I think I’m in shock.”
“That’s understandable. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a crazy last few months. Who do you think it was that shot at us?” I ask Grunt. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that easy to breach this place.”
It’s not either. Dad’s clubhouse isn’t that great to look at, but it and the property around it—where the house is located—have been fenced in very securely. The fence is twelve feet tall, with an electric line around the top and above that barbed wire. It looks like something you would see at the state penitentiary. That’s probably where Dad got the idea. He was in for a few years during my teen years. It was hard, but for Dad the club and club business always comes first—even if it means doing that leaves his teenage daughter alone and vulnerable. It’s for that reason that I can read the look Grunt shoots me.
Whoever did the shooting was a club enemy and I’ll never know the details. Message received—crystal clear. I sigh and start picking up the mess that was made. Grunt won’t let me or Jasmine lift, so once he sets the table back on its legs, I start carrying dishes and picking up the food from the floor. By the time that Thomas, Dad and Dragon get back the mess is cleaned up and I’m lying in bed, exhausted. It’s completely dark outside, but I don’t know what time it is. Grunt called a few of the men over to create a perimeter around the house and put guards along the fence. One of Dad’s most trusted men, Jonesy, is outside my window now. I pulled the curtain for privacy, but I can still see his outline through the fabric because of the streetlight outside.
“Sunflower, are you-you o-o-okay?” Thomas asks softly, and I roll over on my back with a heavy sigh.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes as the tension there is starting to get to me.
“Yeah,” he says, but what he doesn’t say is that he won’t call me that anymore.
“Do you know who did this?” I ask, staring up at the ceiling, figuring he’s going to tell me the same thing Dad always does.
Club business.
“No, but your father has someone tracking.”
“King,” I murmur.
“Yeah.”
“He’s good,” I mumble.
“You know him?”
“Duh. It’s my dad’s club, Thomas. I know all the guys. King is a good guy,” I answer softly.
“Are…” I think he starts to stutter and instead, he takes a breath and tries again. “Are you fe-feeling okay?”
“For someone whose house was just shot up, sure, I’m great.”
“Lyla—”
“Why, Thomas?”
“Wh-what?”
“Why did you make me believe you cared for me? Why didn’t you just tell me there was someone else?”
“W-would you believe me if I told you that I do care about you?”
“Thomas, don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You used me as a replacement for her.”
“What if I told you that you were the only w-woman on my mind the night we were t-t- to-together?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” I finally admit with a sigh.
“We have to let go of the p-p-past if we’re g-g-going to have a f-f-future, Lyla.”
“Maybe the point is that we don’t have a future. You can’t make a relationship where there is none.”
“There’s a baby,” he whispers, his gaze never leaving mine.
“That’s not a reason to try and form a relationship. There should be love,” I whisper. This sadness that has taken residence deep inside of me breaks through my tone and I hate that it does. I don’t want Thomas to know how much he has hurt me. I really don’t want him to see that it’s still hurting me.
“You l-loved me once, Lyla.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I put my hand down on my stomach.
“Do you know what I’ve discovered, Thomas?” I ask, my eyes still closed and pretending I’m completely hidden in the darkness.
“W-what’s that?”
“Love can’t survive when it’s not nurtured and returned.”
“Then give me a chance to n-n-nurture it,” he responds.
I turn on my side, shutting him out. He keeps resting beside me. I don’t speak again, and I fall asleep listening to him breathe, knowing he’s awake.
What I don’t do is talk to him. I’m too busy drinking in the fact that he offered to nurture my love, but what he didn’t do is offer to return it.
Chapter 11
Thomas
“How’s Lyla?” her dad asks when I walk out into the living room.
“Shook up,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Any idea who did this shit?” Dad asks, his voice tight.
“I have King on it. He’s one of my best. He’s got a couple of my men with him.”
“Any idea at all?”
