Second Draft

by C. M. Seabrook

  “I’m scared,” I say, being brutally honest. “If this doesn’t work out between us…” My breath hitches, and I pinch my eyes shut. “I’ll survive. I know I will. But I don’t know what…”

  More tears stream down my cheeks, and I hate it. I’ve always been able to hide my emotions, to rein back my tears, but with him I can’t.

  His thumb is under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

  “You’re mine now, Layla. Do you know what that means?” His expression is dark, confident. “It means I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

  I let out an uneven breath. I want that. More than anything. But words fail me.

  Is it possible? Him and me? Can we live this life? Despite everything?

  He fills places in me that I didn’t even know were empty.

  I don’t want to let that go.

  I don’t want to let him go.

  I just pray that when everything is said and done, I won’t have to.

  Chapter 20

  Carter

  “What’s this?” Layla frowns at the large bag I place on the kitchen table in front of her. When she stands, she places her hand on her growing belly, and one on her lower back and stretches.

  It’s been almost two months since she finally said yes to me. I don’t even know if she realizes it, but we’ve started to create a home together. I’ve even convinced her to move her stuff into my room so that we can start turning hers into a nursery.

  Those damn walls of hers are still up, and I want more than she’s ready to give me. But for now, what we’re doing is working.

  “It’s a gift,” I say, moving around the table, and kissing her. Open it.”

  Biting her bottom lip, she pulls the box out of the bag, and gasps.

  “It’s a MacBook Pro.” I wrap my arms around her so that her back is against my chest, and nuzzle my nose in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. “I thought you could use an upgrade on the dinosaur that you have.”

  “I can’t accept this.” She puts the box back on the table. “It’s worth more than I make in an entire month.”

  A part of me wants to correct her. It’s more than she did make in a month. I’ve finally convinced her to go take a leave from both jobs. Her only condition was that she still volunteer at the Animal Shelter each week.

  “Now that you have some free time, I thought you might like to write some more. You can barely get on the internet with that old thing.”

  “I told you, I’m not writing anymore.” She frowns, looking away.

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  I grip her chin and plant a hard kiss on her lips, then pull back with a smirk “Before me.”

  She laughs and shakes her head.

  “I think I’ve given you some new writing material.” I wink, and tip her nose playfully.

  “You have.” Her lips twitch up, her eyes sparkling.

  I love that smile. The one when she allows herself a moment to set aside her fear. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it does something inside of me.

  “I can give you a few more things to write about right now.” I pull her against my chest, and rake my teeth across the soft skin below her ear, and feel her tremble.

  Being with Layla, spending time with her, is the best thing in the world. But God, the sex – it’s beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. Maybe because my emotions are involved. I don’t know. I just know that every time we make love, it’s like the first time. Pure, erotic pleasure, mixed with raw emotions. The combination is untainted rapture.

  “You’re changing the subject.” Her voice is a half whimper as my hands and mouth stroke across her sensitive skin.

  “Maybe,” I smile. “But I have something else to show you.”

  Another frown tugs at her lips. She hates gifts and surprises, but I’m praying she’ll love this one.

  “What is it?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously.

  “Come on and I’ll show you.” I take her hand, pulling her to the back stairwell that leads to the basement and open the door.

  “You’re finally going to let me see your new man cave?”

  I chuckle at the small lie I’d told her to keep her away from the construction. “Close your eyes.”

  “I’m not going to close my eyes and walk down the stairs.”

  “And I’m not going to let you fall. Now close your damn eyes.”

  She sighs like I’ve just asked her to clean the toilets, or something equally as terrible, but finally submits.

  “Keep them closed,” I warn, taking her elbows and leading her down, past the laundry room, and opening the double, barn style doors that lead to the main living area.

  Flicking on the lights, I inhale my own shaky breath and drag my fingers through my hair, hoping to hell that she’s not going to be pissed about this.

  “Well?” she asks, eyes still closed.

  “Okay. Open them.”

  She blinks, once, twice, then her eyes widen as she takes in the room. The full oak bookshelves that line every wall, the extra wide armchair that sits in the corner, and the antique desk with its ergonomic leather chair.

  “It’s a library or an office. Whatever you want it to be,” I say, watching her as she slowly starts to walk around the room, fingers brushing the spines of the books. “I thought you’d like to have your own space. Somewhere for you to read, or write, or whatever you want to do. The computer is only the finishing touch.”

  She turns and blinks at me, brows drawn down. “You did all this? For me?”

  There it is, the look that says she doesn’t think she deserves it.

  I remove the distance between us and place my hands on her shoulders. “Yes. And this isn’t something I can take back, so don’t even think about arguing with me.”

  She laughs, but there are tears in her eyes.

  “Do you like it? I had an interior decorator choose the color, but if you–”

  “It’s perfect.” Her arms lift, wrapping around my neck, and she stands on her toes to kiss me. “Thank you,” she says against my lips. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. I love it.”

  Thank God. I breathe out a heavy sigh of relief.

  She kisses me again, this time harder and longer, and her hands skim down my chest, then snake under my shirt.

  “I thought you had to volunteer today.” I chuckle, seeing the intent in her eyes.

  “I can be a few minutes late,” she grins up at me, her touch instantly making me hard.

  We both frown when the doorbell rings.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Okay, I’ll get it.”

  “Carter?” she says, stopping me before I can make it through the double doors. “Thank you.”

  I smile, my heart swelling, knowing the fact that she accepted it is a huge step. The doorbell rings a few more times in an impatient manner. I grumble and make my way up the stairs, ready to give whoever’s on the other side of the door an earful.

  “Kira?” I frown when I take in the woman’s worried, almost frenzied appearance. “Is everything all right?”

  “Is Layla here?” she asks, stepping into the house when I open the door wider.

  “She’s downstairs. I’ll get her.” A weird feeling settles in the pit of my stomach when I call down for Layla to come up. It’s like that moment before something bad happens. You know it’s coming, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

  I just hope I’m wrong.

  “What’s wrong?” Layla must feel it too, because her face pales, and that fear that’s almost constantly in her eyes, but has been dissipating these past couple months, is back, full-force.

  “You weren’t answering your phone. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour,” Kira says, shuffling from one foot to the other.

  “It must be turned off. Are you okay? Is it Max?”

  I’m assuming Max is the boyfriend I still haven�
�t met.

  “No.” Kira shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Layla.”

  Layla doesn’t move, not even a fraction of an inch, but I can almost see herself starting to shut down.

  “It’s your mom.” Kira looks at me, then back at Layla. “She had a stroke. She’s alive, but it’s…really bad.”

  A small, sharp breath is her only reaction. I’m behind her now, hands on her shoulder, but she doesn’t lean back against me like she normally does. Just holds herself stiff, her uneven breathing the only indication that she’s upset.

  “When?”

  “Two days ago. I’m sorry. I just found out. She’s at University Hospital in Rosedale.”

  “Come on. I’ll drive.”

  Layla shakes her head, staring vacantly at a spot on the wall. “I can’t go.”

  “It’s your mom,” Kira says. “Whatever differences you had. They don’t matter right now.”

  Something passes between them that I don’t understand. A look that speaks of secrets and regrets.

  There’s still so much I don’t know about her, or about her family. Why she never sees them, or anyone other than Kira, for that matter.

  It’s like she’s all alone in the world. Lost. Afraid. And I want to know why.

  “Kira’s right.” I cup Layla’s face in my hands, and she blinks back tears when she looks up at me.

  “You don’t understand.” Her gaze is on the floor, on anything but me.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what happened between you two. But I do know you’ll regret not seeing her if she doesn’t make it through this.”

  Silence stretches between us.

  “Your mom would want to see you,” Kira finally says. “I can come–”

  “No.” Closing her eyes, Layla rubs her temples.

  “I’ll take you.” I brush her hair away frown her cheek. “And I promise I won’t leave your side. When my parents died, I’d been in an argument with my Dad. It destroyed me that the last words I had with him were spoken out of anger.”

  “The difference is your parents loved you, and I’m sure they knew how much you loved them.”

  “All parents love their children. Some just have a more difficult time showing it.”

  She chuckles darkly, the sound sending a chill down my spine.

  “All right. I’ll go if you really think I should.”

  I kiss her forehead. “I do.”

  She gives me a small nod, but when I see the panic and shame clouding her eyes as she starts towards the door, I wonder if I made the right decision convincing her to go.

  Chapter 21

  Layla

  My entire body is shaking as we take the elevator up to the fifth floor. Not the small trembles that I feel when Carter touches me, but full out shakes that I can’t control. I ball my fingers into fists, and bite the inside of my cheek hard, trying to make it less noticeable, but I’m pretty sure everyone, including Carter can see my fear.

  I hate that after all these years my parents can still do that to me. Turn me into a frightened child.

  “It’ll be all right.” Carter’s arm is around my shoulder, steadying me.

  I know it’s a bad idea bringing him here, but I’ve never needed him more than I do right now.

  “Susan Harper’s room?” Carter asks the nurse at the counter.

  She looks at her charts, then says, “Second door on the right.”

  I’m not sure how my feet keep moving, but they do.

  It’s been seven years since I’ve seen my parents. No calls. No letters. Even after they knew where I was, they never tried to contact me.

  And I’m not sure how they’re going to respond seeing me now. That’s if my mom is even conscious enough to know who I am. From the way Kira made it sound, she doesn’t have long.

  As frightened as I am, I’m glad that Carter convinced me to come. I’ve never stopped missing my mom. And he’s right, I’d be devastated if I never got the chance to say goodbye.

  But then, what if they don’t want me here? My Dad is a big man. Not as big as Carter, but he carries himself with all the self-righteousness and arrogance of a man who puts himself far above others.

  I doubt that’s changed. And if it hasn’t, who knows what kind of scene he’ll make. What he’ll say.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” I stop outside the room the nurse said was my mom’s, coldness seeping through my veins.

  “I’ll be right by your side.” His hand takes mine and he gives a small reassuring squeeze.

  With a heavy breath, I push open the door.

  It’s a single room, one bed, and at first I think the nurse must have given us the wrong room, because I barely recognize the woman in the bed.

  Her hair, once a light ashy brown, is now almost pure silver. And there are deep lines in her face that weren’t there before. Tubes and wires are everywhere. In her nose, her throat, her arm. But what really distorts her features is that one side of her face looks off, almost slack, giving her an asymmetrical appearance.

  This isn’t my mom. It can’t be.

  A shiver races down my spine as I stare at her, unable to move forward.

  The woman I knew was strong. Stern. Unbending. But the one in the bed is weak, fragile, a shadow of who she once was.

  I swallow hard, wanting to turn and run out of the room. But Carter is behind me, his hand pressed on my back, giving me the strength to move forward.

  “Mom?” Blinking back tears, I take a few steps and stand beside the bed. Taking her frail hand in mine, I say, “Mom. It’s me. Layla.”

  Her skin is so pale it’s almost transparent, her veins blue and exposed.

  I can’t help the tears that start to roll down my cheeks. Seven years of built-up regret, anger and grief, rushes through me in a tidal wave of emotions.

  “I’m so sorry,” the words come out in a sob.

  Her eyes, or rather eye, because the other one doesn’t seem to be working properly, flutters open.

  There’s recognition there. I see it in her expression. And she squeezes my hand, so faint it’s barely noticeable. But I notice and gives me a small sliver of hope.

  “Hi, Mom,” I croak out, my voice shaky.

  Through the tubes in her throat, she tries to say something.

  “Don’t try to speak.” I kiss her forehead, still holding her hand and choke back a sob. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry. For everything.”

  A single tear slides down her cheek, and I wipe it away for her.

  “I love you.”

  She blinks three times. I don’t know if it’s meant to mean anything, but I take it as her saying those words back to me. Words that she barely ever said when I was younger.

  It was good to come. My chest swells, because I don’t see any of the anger or animosity that had been in her eyes the last time we’d been together. All I see is love reflected there.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit sooner–”

  “What is this?” A deep, baritone laced with loathing, rumbles through the small room.

  Dread trickles down my spine.

  Carter immediately goes into fight mode. I see it in his stance. “She’s just visiting. We don’t want any trouble–”

  “Trouble?” He barks. “That’s all that girl is. Trouble.”

  Knowing the special moment was over, I place my mom’s hand back on the bed, and turn and meet my father’s glare with one of my own.

  His face is red, lips drawn up in a scowl. When his eyes drop to the barely concealed rounding of my stomach, a look of pure disgust washes over his features.

  “You taint your mother’s deathbed with your presence. Get out of here!”

  “I came to–”

  “I said, get out of here. Now.” He takes a step forward and looks like he’s about to physically remove me if I don’t do what he says, but Carter steps in front of him, shielding me.

  The monitors that are hooked up to my Mom start to beep faster.

  “Can’t
you see you’re upsetting her by being here.” He pushes past us, then walks around the bed and takes my mother’s hand.

  “Sir,” Carter says, his frustration barely contained. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Layla only wanted to see her mother. You can understand that.”

  “Dad, please.”

  “Do not call me that. I’m not your father. You’re nothing to me. Just a little whore who can’t keep her legs closed.”

  “You have no right to speak to her like that.” For a second, I think that Carter might hit him. His fingers are tight fists, and his nostrils flare, his breathing ragged.

  “And you.” He looks at Carter, and I can see him taking in the tattoos, his scruff, the way he’s dressed. “You’re the heathen that got her knocked up again?”

  Carter’s brows go down as he processes my father’s words. Or rather the one word – again.

  I want to cry. To run. To lock myself in a room and never come out. First, I need to get away from here.

  “Carter.” I place a hand on his arm. “Let’s go.”

  He continues to glower at my father, like he’s still debating whether to take a shot at him. They stare at each other for a long, tense moment, until the door opens.

  A nurse comes in, frowning when she looks between us all. “Is everything all right in here?”

  “No.” My father yells. “I want them out of here. Call security if you have to.”

  I don’t even wait to hear the nurse’s reaction. I rush out of the room, not even looking back to see if Carter is following me, because right now, I don’t care.

  All I care about is getting the hell out of this damn hospital.

  It doesn’t take long before Carter catches up, but he doesn’t reach for my hand like he normally does, instead he stays an arm length back, and when I glance back, his expression is darker than I’ve ever seen.

  He doesn’t say a word, even when we get on the empty elevator, or as we walk to the parking garage.

  Anger seems to vibrate off of him, and even the people around us seem to notice, practically jumping to get out of his way as we pass.