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You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot.
I hear nothing but the insidious echo of her voice in my head.
Chapter 26
Jason Miller
I can hear her crying through the locked door, and that’s actually a good thing. I can handle an emotional client. I know for a fact that the knife from her place setting is still on the table, and to my knowledge she doesn’t have anything sharp with her.
I soften my voice. “Layla, honey? Please open the door.”
No answer.
I try the knob once more, but it’s pointless. I could easily kick this old door in, but I’m afraid I might hurt her in the process. So I pull a lock-pick set out of my jacket pocket and have the knob unlocked in ten seconds. The only problem is, the door still won’t budge. She must be blocking it.
“Layla, please.” I’m not above begging her. Right now, it’s paramount that I get into this room so I can make sure she’s all right. I don’t think she can hurt herself in there, but I can’t take that chance. Hell, if she tried, she could hurt herself with anything, even a hair clip.
Fuck!
I press my weight against the door. “Sweetheart, please let me in. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. Please talk to me.” I’m not entirely sure what I did wrong, but I know with absolute certainty that it was somethingI saidthat set her off. But all I did was ask her about going out with Reese. “Is this about Reese?”
I manage to nudge the door open an inch, just enough that I can peer into the room and catch her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes are red, her cheeks wet from crying. The pain she’s feeling radiates from her dark eyes, and the sight of it breaks my heart.
This is all my fucking fault.
I can’t see much below her neck, so I can’t tell if she’s hurt herself. “Layla? Are you hurt?”Please, god, let her say no.
Time slows to a crawl as I try to ease the door open more. I just need a foot or so of clearance so I can slip into the room and assess her condition firsthand. If I have to, I’ll force the door open.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on my shoulder, accompanied by a familiar voice. “Jason, it’s okay. I’ve got this.”
I turn to see Ian standing behind me, Tyler at his side. Ian’s expression is taut. Tyler looks like he wants to kill something—most likely me.
Ian knows Layla a hell of a lot better than I do, so I step back. He presses his face into the opening. “Hey, sis,” he says calmly. “I’m here. Let me in.”
Immediately, the opening widens. Ian slips into the room and closes the door behind him.
Tyler grabs my arm. “What the fuck happened?” he growls. He’s livid.
I meet his accusing gaze head-on. “Honestly, Tyler, I’m not sure. We were at our table eating lunch, everything was fine, and then she bolted for the bathroom and locked herself in.”
His dark eyes narrow on me. “Well, obviouslysomethinghappened.”
Frustration eats at me. “I’m racking my brain, Tyler. We were talking about Reese—”
Tyler frowns. “Who?”
“He’s a guy in her class who asked her out. She said no, but I suggested she reconsider. He’s a good-looking guy. I thought maybe she’d be interested in him. But I don’t see how that would set her off.”
“Wait—you were trying to talk her into going out with another guy?”
“Well, yeah. Ruth said—”
“Forget it. I’ve heard enough.” Tyler shakes his head at me like I’m a complete numbskull. “Don’t you know anything about women? Hell, even I get it.” He moves closer to the door to listen to what’s being said on the other side.
Ian is talking quietly to Layla. A few moments later, we hear the faucet running. When the door finally opens, Ian appears first, looking a bit harried. “She’s okay.” His gaze goes to Tyler first, and the two of them share a long, poignant look. Then he looks hard at me. “I’m taking my sister home.” He says this with absolute certainty, as if he’s daring me to contradict him.
I nod. What else can I do? If Ian takes her home, Tyler will be with them. If she’s not safe with a former homicide detective, then she’s not safe with anyone. Hell, she’s probably safer with them than she is with me at this point, because apparently I’m clueless when it comes to women. “Okay. I’ll follow.”
