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* * *
The three of us drop Layton off, and I cry when they tell me it’ll be seven days before any contact. He hands me his phone and wallet, and I cry harder.
When he wraps me in a hug, his gravelly voice tells me he’s not unaffected. “I’ve got this, Pix. You need to know when I set my mind on something… I make it so.” He turns my face up to his, and as his lips hover over mine, he adds, “And I’ve set my eyes and my mind on you.” He seals his promise with a kiss.
“Seven days. You make it seven days, and I will too, okay?”
“Seven days, Livy. We’ll talk a week from today. I love you.”
* * *
“What the hell?” Kimp booms.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Braxton’s hand tugs the back of his neck as he stares at the floor. His head shakes back and forth. It’s as if he expects answers in the planks of the wood floors.
“The fuck you say.” Brighton paces the living room, creating a rhythm in her steps.
It’s the tiny “feck cue” that has us all stop our group conversation. It comes in conjunction with Kyle’s tail thumps and Colt’s chatter with him and Sola. Luna seems to have taken up residence in Layton’s old bedroom and can’t be coaxed out.
Emberleigh sniffles from her spot on Kimp’s sofa. So does Willa, who sits beside her soon-to-be sister-in-law.
Kimp would be sniffling, too, if he stopped the thick, visible swallowing from his seat. His elbows dig into his thighs, and his hands steeple around his nose and mouth, coming to a point between his brows. “How long?” he asks.
“A while, Pop. He’s taking responsibility for his actions.” Exton puts a hand on Willa’s shoulder from his spot behind the couch. “That’s what this is about. To be fair, I have no idea if this will be like Alcoholics Anonymous, and he’ll do the twelve steps. But I need to tell you, I won’t accept an apology from him. There isn’t one required because that’s not owed to me. He scared me, sure, but he’s hurt himself after being hurt. That’s not about me.”
“That’s the most I’ve ever heard him say,” Emberleigh whispers to her seatmate.
Willa squeezes her hand and whispers in return, “I usually have enough words for the both of us.”
“But I don’t understand. Isn’t that a controlled substance? I thought it was supposed to be hard to get.”
“This isn’t a matter of Layton seeking out something illicit and meeting a dealer on the corner hoping to score.” My voice comes off small. I’m glad to understand what Exton discovered during his quick trip to Florida. He filled Willa and me in on our way to the ranch from the facility. No doubt he didn’t reveal everything. It seems he plays a lot close to the vest.
“Did you know?”
“I knew that his PT wasn’t the struggle I expected it to be. That could be a variety of factors when it comes to rehab, but I expected slower progress and far more muscle resistance. Pain helps guide the process.”
“Did you know?”
“Only very recently, Kimp.”
“Pop. Please call me Pop. And thank you for your honesty.”
“So what do we do now?” Braxton asks.
“Now, we let the experts do what they do, and we Ranger up.” Brighton stops her pacing.
I don’t know what that means, but I gather this is their battle cry.
“Elias, may I have a moment?” Exton asks his sister’s fiancé. They leave the rest of us in the living room as they step through the front door and retreat down the stairs.
“Inpatient is a minimum of twenty-eight days.” I turn to Willa, “Do you have twenty-eight days left?”
“Hush your mouth. I liked you before that comment.”
To Braxton, I state, “You hired me for a job I cannot do right now. We’ll need to renegotiate.”
“Are you quitting?”
