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“Don’t. I’m doing this for her.” Then I hesitate. “What if Katy doesn’t want me living with you guys or she outs us?”
He practically rolls his eyes at me. “She’ll want you living with us. That I’m more worried about than almost anything with this. And she won’t out us. She’s smart and sweet and wants to stay with me.”
I pick up the water glass and hold it in my hands before taking a sip. “And the courts won’t consider that?”
He gives me a helpless shrug. “They’ve already spoken with her, and she told them that off the bat. Then social services got involved and now everything’s up in the air.”
I give him a fierce smile. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a badass bitch here to save the day.”
17
“Do you want me to call an Uber to take you home?” I ask Layla because if she doesn’t leave now, I’m going to jump her and kiss her until the only oxygen she’s able to breathe is the oxygen I give her. She’s saying yes. Holy shit, she’s saying yes.
This is happening.
I’m going to have to lie in a court of law. I’m going to have to pretend to be engaged to Layla Fritz, which means I’m going to have to pretend to be in love with her without actually falling in love with her.
“Sure,” she says, her eyes hazy from whatever alcohol she slugged down before coming here tonight.
I stand and reach for her hand. She takes it and lets me help her up, only I immediately drop it when I hear a scream from upstairs. Layla gasps, her hand clapping over her mouth, but I’m already flying up the stairs.
“What is that? Is Katy okay?” Layla asks, racing behind me.
“She’s been having night terrors since the accident,” I explain, reaching the top step and going for her bedroom. “Give me five minutes and I’ll call you an Uber. Please don’t leave until I get back. I’d like to make sure you get off okay.”
Without waiting on her response, I open the door to Katy’s room. She’s thrashing about, screaming and crying. “Daddy!”
My heart rips to shreds and I climb on her bed, running my hand through her damp hair. “Shhh, honey. It’s okay. Shhh.”
“Daddy! I want my daddy!”
I want your daddy too. I miss him. So much.
“Come here, Ladybug.” I wrap her up in my arms and lay us both down. “It’s okay, Katy. You’re safe. I’ve got you and you’re safe.”
I don’t know if she’s awake or asleep or somewhere in between, but I hold her tight and continue to speak soothing, comforting words in her ear as I stroke her hair. She’s a ball of sweat, but if I change her pajamas, she’ll be up for hours. I learned that lesson the first week she was here.
Eventually, Katy settles down, her body going limp in my arms, and I carefully extricate myself out from beneath her and climb off the bed. “Better dreams now.” I kiss the top of her head and creep out of her room, making a mental note to mark this down in the sleep journal her psychologist recommended I keep for her to chart her night terrors.
Shutting the door behind me, I slink along the hallway and then back downstairs. “Layla?” I call out, going from room to room only to find one after the other empty. Dammit. I asked her to wait. I don’t like the idea of her being drunk in a car with a strange driver.
I slip out my phone and text her.
Me: I wish you had waited for me before you left. Please text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe. Tomorrow if you’re ready, we can move your stuff in, and I can make you dinner and we can talk some more.
I hit send and then slide it back into my pocket. With a heavy breath straining my lungs, I jog up the steps, flipping off light switches as I go. I need to give her space, I remind myself. This has to be about Katy, not her and me.
It’s easier said than done.
I long for the woman I brought home that first night. The woman who wanted me back with equal vigor. The one with no complications. The one I could fuck wild and make mine for a few hours without repercussions. She mentioned aget it out of our systemfuck and I want that more than I can even begin to handle, but I also know there is no getting her out of my system.
I won’t just want a one-and-done. I’ll want more and more and more.
Control, I remind myself.Control.
I hit the top step and head toward my bedroom only to freeze midstep when I reach the precipice of my room. I sag against the doorframe, taking in the sight before me. Layla is on my bed wearing my old Harvard Medical School hoodie and a pair of my track shorts completely passed out on my bed. She’s on her side, her sweet face slack and peaceful, her blonde hair scattered across my pillow.
She looks so good wearing my clothes it nearly knocks me sideways.
