A Father's Fight

by J. B. Salsbury

  Is it possible she’s not as bad as I thought?

  ~*~

  Layla

  It’s just before sunset and I’m in the kitchen throwing together the finishing touches on a fresh salad while Blake and Braeden entertain Axelle on the patio and grill steaks. It’s amazing how much the brothers look alike: same build, dirty blond hair, and those cutting green eyes that Blake says they get from their father, who I’ve yet to meet.

  Blake hasn’t talked about him much, but I know his dad is the one who kept him from his gift with music, so I already don’t like the guy. But watching their easy laughter and the way they’re tuned in to Axelle as she talks about school and her future move to college makes me wonder how bad The General could be to raise two great sons.

  I slide the bowl into the fridge and move outside to join the conversation. Before my feet even cross the threshold of the sliding glass doors, Blake’s eyes dart to me. I can almost hear his thoughts as he takes in my socked and Ugg-booted feet, leggings, and sweatshirt.

  Yes, Blake, I’m warm enough.

  His gaze lands on mine and softens before he flashes his signature crooked smile. That look warms me with a different kind of heat, which makes me want to strip naked and fan myself.

  He pulls up a chair next to his and nods to it while staying in the conversation with Braeden and Axelle.

  “I just can’t decide between getting an apartment with some roommates and living in the dorms.” Axelle twirls a long strand of her hair.

  “Dorms.” Blake leans back and takes a long pull off his beer.

  “I’m with Blake.” Brae nods. “Dorms.”

  “You’d think that would be the cheaper option, but it’s not. I mean”—she shrugs and picks at strings that hang from the hole in the knee of her jeans—“I saw an ad for some people searching for a roommate for only $250 a month. I’d get my own room and—”

  “No fuckin’ way, Axelle.” Blake shakes his head, eyes closed as if he refuses to hear another word.

  I open my mouth to reprimand him for his language, but it never helps, so I keep my lips shut.

  He rubs his head, irritated. “You’re not moving in with people you don’t know.”

  She drops her head back with an exasperated groan. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Honey, don’t get upset.” I lean forward and rub her forearm. “He’s right. You don’t want to shack up with a bunch of strangers. They could be psychos or hoarders or guys.”

  Blake points to me. “Exactly.”

  Her eyes widen for a split second before she reins in her reaction. “Ha!” She laughs nervously and then drops her gaze to her lap. “It’s not like the dorms will be all that different.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I won’t know anyone there either.”

  “Yeah, but dorms have records. And rules. At least you can’t get murdered by someone after curfew without it being caught on video surveillance.” Brae grins, his smile not as predatory as Blake’s. He’s more . . . pretty, less edgy, which somehow makes him seem more dangerous.

  “I agree with them, Axelle.” I absently rub my baby-ball belly. “How about we compromise? One year on campus, make some good friends, and then you can get an apartment.”

  “Sounds fair.” Blake grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze, peering down at me with pride.

  I love him.

  “Fine, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “At this point, I’m just hoping I get accepted.”

  After Axelle’s guidance counselor called back, she assured me there’s a good chance my daughter will get accepted with her latest test scores, but there’s no guarantee. I think she said more, but I had a hard time paying attention with my pulse raging in my ears. Stupid phone rang and I’d shot three inches in the air with a yelp. Blake threw me a curious glare from across the kitchen, clearly noticing my nerviness.

  I can’t stop thinking about Trip. How in the world did he end up with Stewart and his crew that night? Not that it matters now. Even if he does come forward, there’s little I can do legally. The statute of limitations would keep me from trying to prosecute him, so other than a painful admission of guilt, he’d owe no penalty to the state. Chances are he’s just a selfish prick looking to free up his conscience.

  The sad thing is if he’d given me the time of day back then I would’ve slept with him willingly. God, this is all so fucking disturbing.

  My stomach churns and hunger pangs claw away at my insides, waking the baby. I put my hand on a little hard spot as it rolls across the left side of my belly below my ribcage. “Ah, yeah.” I blow out a long breath. “It’s getting tight in there, little buddy, I know.”

  “Is she moving?” Blake leans over and puts both hands on my abdomen. “Hey, baby . . .” He presses his lips to the rolling part of a human that’s jackhammering my lungs. I run my hand through his hair, holding him to me and absorbing the love he’s pouring over our baby in whispers.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know what you were having?” Brae leans forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, and his eyes fixed on Blake’s attention to my tummy.

  “We don’t. Blake’s just convinced it’s a girl.” I massage my fingers into the back of his neck in soothing circles. “Of course he’s wrong. It’s totally a boy.”

  A timid smile pulls at Brae’s lips. “Man, that’s such a trip. My big brother’s gonna be a dad.”

  Blake peeks up at Axelle. “Already am, bro.” A moment of silence descends on us, and my daughter’s face goes soft at being claimed by a father.

  The past pushes to get in, to remind me of what I have to face sooner or later with regard to Trip and his phone calls, but I refuse to focus on that now.

  “Whoa!” Blake pulls his hand back for a split second before placing both hands back on my belly. “Dude, you gotta feel this!”

  His eyes are wide, and he motions for Braeden to come over.

  Brae kneels at my feet and moves to place both hands on my belly but darts his gaze to mine first. “Layla? May I?”

  He’s asking permission to touch me? “Of course.” I nod and bite my lip against the emotions billowing just below the surface.

  The heat of his big hands warms me as he palms my belly like a basketball. His eyes narrow for a second and then close in concentration.

  Oh! Huge kick-stretch to the ribs. Ow.

  “Holy fuck!” His eyes slide to mine. “Damn, little sister, that had to hurt.”

  I grunt and grit my teeth. “Ah, it’s not so bad. Things are getting cramped in there though, so I think he’s anxious to get out.”

  “What was that? A foot?” He moves his hands around to feel again.

  “Crazy ass shit, huh?” The light excitement in Blake’s voice calls my eyes, and I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have this.

  I’m not alone this time.

  And if I weren’t so lost in my own relief and thoughts of myself, I’d notice the pain radiating from my daughter’s eyes.

  Ten

  Blake

  Axelle went out with some friends after dinner, and after Layla went to bed, Braeden and I decided to sit on the patio and pop the caps on a couple more beers.

  It’s been a long time since my brother and I just hung out like this. I missed his adolescent years, only getting to see him on holidays while I was in military school. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what my brother had to deal with after I left. Without The General having me around as a punching bag, I have to believe Braeden took the majority of his wrath.

  We never talk about it, but it’s pretty obvious our father keeps my little brother on a short leash, which is upsetting. But what’s even more of a mind-fuck is why the hell my grown ass brother doesn’t tell the man to kiss his ass and take off.

  It’s as if he lacks the confidence to stand up to the man, which is totally my fault.

  Damn, if I could make it up to him, I would.

  This’ll be a good start or at least a step in the right direction.

>   “Brae man, can I ask you a question?”

  “What’s up?”

  I keep my gaze focused on the distant mountains. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

  I can see him staring at me from my peripheral vision. “No. Why?”

  “You think you can hang with Layla for the day?”

  He stares at my profile for a few seconds. “Thank fuck . . .” He breathes out a long relieved breath. “You’re goin’.” There’s a smile in his voice.

  “Yeah, man.” I turn toward him. “I’ll go, but you have to promise me you’ll keep an eye on my woman.”

  “Got nothing else to do.” He shrugs. “Besides, I like my eyes on your woman.”

  I pin him with a scowl. “I’m serious. Don’t fuck around. It’s important to me.”

  The rational side of me knows nothing is going to happen in the six or so hours that I’m gone, but there’s no sense in taking chances, not when it comes to her.

  “You got it, no fuckin’ around.” He drops his head back to stare up at the sky. “Tomorrow. That’ll be perfect.”

  I glare at him. “Perfect for what?”

  “It’s Saturday. Dad’ll be home.” He says it as if it’s no big thing, as if Dad and I’ll spend the afternoon watching a game and fighting over whose team is better.

  “And that’s good?”

  His expression grows serious. “It is.”

  “I don’t get any of this, but I swear to shit if I end up getting ambushed by some parental dilemma I will hunt you down and beat the snot out of you.”

  I expect a smile, maybe even a laugh, but all he does is dip his chin in understanding.

  “Not gonna lie, man. This is the weirdest crap you’ve ever asked me to do.”

  “It’ll make sense soon enough, brother.” He pushes up and takes another pull off his beer. “I’m off.”

  A small grin tilts my lips. “Oh so that’s it? You got what you want, so you’re out?” I mock pout. “I feel so used.”

  “Don’t act like you care.” He moves through the open door and into the kitchen. The sound of his empty bottle hitting the trash can filters out from inside. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got a date with a manipulative Vegas girl.” He throws the words over his shoulder as he passes through the living room.

  I don’t walk him out, but stay with my ass planted on my patio. “Use a rubber!”

  “Idiot,” he mumbles just before I hear the front door open and close.

  Shit . . . I’m going back to Orange County tomorrow. I didn’t tell my brother that I already booked my flight, just in case I changed my mind.

  But it’s done now. I just hope I don’t regret it.

  After I suck down the last of my beer, I head to bed and find Layla sitting up, her back against the headboard, glasses on, and remote pointed at the television.

  Click. Click. Click.

  I move through the room, taking off my clothes and throwing on some flannel pants. The TV screen continues to flash with different channels, her eyes glazed over and staring.

  Click. Click. Click.

  I stand at the edge of my side of the bed, moving my gaze back and forth between my zoned-out woman and the flicking television screen.

  “Mouse, baby, you going for a record?”

  “Huh?” Her eyes move to me, and she pushes up her glasses at the bridge of her nose.

  I point to the remote. “There. You trying to see how many clicks you can get in a solid hour? Going for Guinness book?”

  A tiny blush colors her cheeks. “Oh”—she drops the remote onto the down comforter—“no, I was just looking for something to watch.”

  “Right.” I pull back the sheet and crawl in next to her, pulling her down and onto my chest. “Maybe you could hold off for a second? I need to talk to you about something.”

  She tilts her face up, resting her chin on my chest, worry pinching her brows. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Turns out my presence has been requested in Orange County.” I run my knuckles up her soft cheek and pull her glasses off to place them on my bedside table.

  She blinks rapidly before her eyes widen. “The General?”

  “No, if it were him who wanted me there, he’d just show up and drag me back or send his thugs to get me.” A humorless laugh burst from my lips and sadness washes over her face. I run my thumb between her eyebrows to smooth the worry. “Actually, it’s my mom. Guess she gave up trying to get me to come home, so she sent Brae.”

  “That’s great, right?” The corner of her mouth lifts a little. “You miss her; you have to.”

  I shake my head and sift my fingers through her hair. At first I didn’t know why Layla twirled her hair so much, but now I get it. The shit’s as soft as anything I’ve ever felt. “I don’t know how I feel. Not sure what she’s planning on dropping on me, but I’m not exactly pissin’ myself with excitement to find out.”

  Her eyes dart to the side, and then she turns her head to rest her cheek back on my chest. “Crap. I mean I think it’s a really good idea to go, but I can’t travel so close to my due date.”

  “Not you, babe, they’re requesting me and me alone.”

  Her stunned gaze swings back to mine, and I can’t help but groan against the disappointment I see.

  “Don’t take it personally. It’s only a day trip, and it could get ugly. I wouldn’t want you there for that anyway.” I continue to run my fingers through her hair and down to massage her neck. “Think of it like this. Maybe if I can work things out with them and if they agree to be on their best behavior, I’ll see if they want to come down for a few days after the baby comes.”

  “Okay.” She seems to relax a little, but I can still feel the slight tensing of her muscles. “I’d like that. I mean . . . the more family the better. My parents don’t travel well, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable having them too far from the nursing home.”

  “We’ll take the baby to visit them in Florida as soon as we get the okay to do so.” I speak the words into the top of her head between kisses.

  “Thank you.” She sighs softly into my chest, and the breathy sound has me hardening instantly.

  Sooner I get this conversation over, the sooner I can get inside my woman. “So tomorrow I’m going to have Brae spend the day with you while I take a quick trip back home.”

  Her body tenses. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why have Braeden come?”

  “Because I’ll be dealing with enough in Orange County, and knowing he’s here with you’ll buy me a little peace of mind.”

  “Blake—”

  “Please, Mouse. It’s for a day. I’ll be back by dinner.”

  She huffs out a breath that sounds a lot like the one Axelle did earlier when we threw down the dorm rule. “Fine.”

  I press my lips to the top of her head and whisper there. “Thank you.”

  “What time do you leave?”

  I flex my hips and roll her over, settling myself to her side, but sliding my thigh up along hers to lock her in place. “Flight leaves at nine a.m.” My fingers dance up her bare arm with a light touch that raises goose bumps against her flesh. “Which means it’s time for you to get naked.”

  She squirms as much as she can with my leg thrown over hers, her eyelids drooping with every barely there touch against her skin. A low moan falls from her lips before she bites the bottom one and arches her back. I trace the delicate line of her jaw and run my thumb along her lower lip to free it from her teeth. Her legs continue to press against mine, as if she’s trying to put out a fire or open them for me.

  Burying myself inside Layla is the only therapy I need before I face whatever’s going on back home. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  Eleven

  Blake

  My fingertips tingle as I glide them along every bit of Layla’s exposed skin. It’s as if every part of her is an erogenous zone when we’re together. No matter where I touch, she responds immediately.<
br />
  I dip my head, running my lips along her shoulder, allowing my tongue to dart out as I follow the line of her collarbone with my forefinger. “Damn, Mouse. You smell and taste so fucking good.”

  She tries to push me over, get me on my back, and have her wicked way with me, but she’s not the one in control tonight. I need this more than I need air, need to feel her warmth wrapped around me before I return to face my past. I hope that she can send me off with enough of that warmth to beat back the old demons that’ll threaten to get inside.

  “Blake . . .” Her words dissolve with a shaky plea that I’m all too familiar with.

  I don’t plan on making her suffer, but first . . . “Mouse?” I speak the name against her skin, allowing my tongue another taste of her sweet neck.

  “Mmm?” Her hands grip my hair, holding me to her.

  “I wanna fuck you in The Room.”

  Her breath hitches, and her body melts deeper into the bed as if my words have just turned her into pure liquid.

  I smile against her pulse point. “Can I assume that’s a yes?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I can’t help the tiny chuckle that bubbles up from my throat and hits her neck in a hot burst. “So polite, my Mouse.” I continue to bathe her chest and neck in soft kisses, my hand moving to the hardened pink tips of her breasts, which I can see through her thin tank top. “I wanna hear you ask me, baby. I want to know that you want that bad enough you’d ask me for it.”

  Her body freezes, and I pull back to see the flare of rebellion in her eyes. I run my thumb over her nipple in long but firm passes until a haze of desire washes away the urge to fight me.

  “I want you to take me to your music room.” She forks her fingers into my hair, scraping her nails along my scalp the way she knows I like it.

  I groan and my hips jerk forward, rubbing myself against her thigh. “Say please.” Fuck, she’s got me so worked up my voice sounds weak in my own ears.

  Her hand slides down and grips my hard-on. “You first.”