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She is rightfully angry after all she’s been through. She deserves some space to vent and get all her emotions out.
But all the noise is too much for Sky. He starts to fuss.
“We should take him outside,” Daphne suggests.
“Right…” I say. I glance at the screen of my phone again as Daphne lifts the child out of my arms. I follow after her, trying to call Mason again as we head out the door. Still no answer. I try to put a lid on my panic but it’s bubbling violently in my stomach at this point.
Daphne’s eyes are on me as she sits on the cracked steps, bouncing the baby on her knee, shushing and soothing him. In no time, he begins drifting off.
“Are you okay?” she asks me.
It’s a simple question. And I don’t know why it makes me burst into tears.
“Oh my god, Karli. What is going on with you?” she asks, visibly alarmed.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I say, trying to rein in my outburst.
I’ve been so focused on Layla and Sky over the past few hours. Now that I’ve finally shifted my attention back to my own circumstances, my own emotions have come surging forward.
“Tell me what’s going on, sweetie?” Daphne’s voice is gentle.
Blotting at my eyes with the edge of my dirty blouse, I give Daphne a quick rundown of what happened yesterday at the clinic. Specifically, the fact that I kissed Mason in front of Felix and now I’m not sure what will happen next.
Looking concerned, Daphne rises to her feet, carefully balancing the sleeping baby in her arms.
“Go,” she tells me, her eyes wide. “Go talk to him.”
“But Layla…” I glance toward the house.
Daphne vigorously shakes her head. “I’ll take care of Layla. Go on, Karli.”
“Okay. Shit,” I say, my eyes darting around the yard. “I didn’t drive here. I have to call a taxi.”
“That would take too long. Use Layla’s car,” she tells me. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine here. Worse case scenario, we’ll call a taxi.” She holds out the car keys to me.
I hesitate.
“Take the keys, Karli,” she insists. “Layla’s all right. Put yourself first this time, honey. You matter, too. Your life matters, too.”
When she says that, my eyes start prickling again. “Thank you.” I give her a quick hug.
I’m hustling to where Layla’s car is parked when Archer’s truck pulls up at the curb.
“Hey,” he greets us when he jumps out of his vehicle, his long legs demolishing the short distance to the front porch.
I take a step toward him. “Hey, what are you—?”
He marches right past me, straight toward Daphne with his eyes fixed on Sky who’s cradled in Daphne’s arms. “Hey, little buddy. You’re okay,” he rasps out. “You’re okay.” He strokes a gentle hand over the child’s head. Archer’s eyes bounce from Daphne to me. “Where’s Layla?”
Before either of us can answer, Layla appears at her bedroom window. We all watch with alarm as she aggressively wrestles the stiff window open. And then the first garbage bag flies out, sailing across the front yard. It explodes upon contact with the ground and Razor’s raggedy clothes scatter across the lawn.
Oh. Okay.
Then comes another garbage bag. Followed by another and another and another.
Archer’s strong brow crinkles as he watches it all go down. My brother doesn’t wait for an invitation before he troops inside the house.
Daphne purses her lips against a giggle.
