Second Draft

by C. M. Seabrook

  He’s furious. And he has every right to be. I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me right now.

  This is the moment, the one I’ve been dreading all along. When this perfect little fairytale I’ve created with him comes crashing down around me.

  Fear winds around my windpipe, making it difficult to breathe.

  I knew he would react this way if he found out. Knew it would ruin everything.

  When I’m in the car, and he’s beside me, I say shakily, “I should have told you–”

  “Not now, Layla.”

  Those three words confirm my fear.

  It’s over.

  Chapter 22

  Carter

  I shut the front door a little too hard behind me and the sound resonates through the house.

  Layla winces, but she doesn’t say anything, just starts up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

  I let her go, because I need some time to process everything that just happened. I know I should go to her. Comfort her. But right now I’m too fucking angry to do anything but pace, and maybe smash my hands through a wall.

  It took all of my strength not to hit the man.

  The man was right, he wasn’t her father. Because no real father would ever treat their child the way he treated Layla. I don’t care what kind of trouble she got herself into when she was younger.

  Rubbing my temple, I lean against the kitchen counter and try to process what the man had said.

  Layla had been pregnant before. That much is obvious. A lot of things make sense now. And yet I know there’s so much more to the story. And I need to know. I need to know what she’s been holding back, not because it will change anything, but because I think it’s the key to her finally letting go of the pain she’s holding onto.

  I take the stairs, my footsteps heavy, and try to release the tension that’s still inside of me, spinning around like a molten lava ready to explode.

  Deep breath.

  This isn’t about you. This is about her and her asshole parents.

  She won’t tell me anything if I walk in there like a raging bull demanding answers.

  I knock once, then open the door, freezing when I see the half-filled suitcase on her bed. “What are you doing?”

  She flinches, but doesn’t turn around, just continues to pull items out of her drawer.

  “Layla, stop.” I grab her wrists gently. “Don’t run from me.”

  “I…” She sucks in a shaky breath and looks away.

  Taking the clothes in her hand, I place them on the bed, then pull her into my arms. Her body is tense, every muscle like steel. I rub her back until I feel her slowly relax.

  “I know I should have told you.” Her voice is shaky, and I can hear how hard she’s trying to hold back her emotions. “I just didn’t want you to see me…like they do.”

  I tuck my thumb under her chin and force her face up, but she keeps her eyes closed. “Look at me, Layla.”

  Slowly, her lashes flutter open, and she meets my gaze.

  My chest tightens painfully at what I see there.

  Shame.

  Hurt.

  Regret.

  “I’m not judging you for what happened in the past.”

  “But…” She blinks hard, her mouth tightening in a thin line, and shakes her head. “You were so angry.”

  “Not at you, sweetheart.” I press my lips against her forehead, and rest there for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure. “He had no right to speak to you the way he did. No one ever has that right.”

  Her small hands are balled into fists on my chest. She shakes her head, and I can feel all the emotions she’s trying so desperately to hold in oozing to the surface.

  “Come here.” I move the suitcase, placing it on the floor, then sit down on the bed and hold my hand out for her.

  She just stares at it for a long moment, before gradually moving towards me, eyes downcast. When she sits, it’s on the edge of the bed, far enough away from me that we’re not touching.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you to go today.”

  “You didn’t know.” Her fingers pick at an invisible thread on her pants.

  “Do you want to tell me now?”

  Her eyes close and she sighs heavily. For a long time she doesn’t say anything, and the silence is painful as I watch all sorts of tortured emotions cross her beautiful face.

  Finally, her mouth opens and she says quietly, “I was fourteen when I started…seeing James.”

  I try my best not to react, but I see her wince when my breath comes out a little too heavy.

  “I’d always been taught that it was a sin to be with anyone before marriage. And I believed it.” Her voice is monotonous, her gaze staring blankly at a spot on the wall as she says the words like she’s telling someone else’s story, with a sort of detachment. “I didn’t rebel. I was a good daughter.” Her mouth curls slightly in a cynical smile. “Did my chores, got good grades, never talked back to my parents. Did all the things I was supposed to do.”

  There’s more silence, and I can feel her shutting down.

  “How did you meet him?” I ask, hoping to keep her talking.

  “James?” She shakes her head and laughs darkly. “Church if you can believe it. He was the leader of the Youth Group I was involved with.” She closes her eyes again. “We were friends. Or I thought we were. I’d always had a huge crush on him. All the girls did. He was part of the worship team. Kind of a rock star in the community. And being older, I kind of idolized him.”

  “How much older?” My stomach constricts, already knowing I’m not going to like her answer.

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Shit.” I drag my fingers through my hair, fresh anger burning in my chest. “And you were fourteen.”

  She nods, brows pressed tightly together.

  I have to ask the question eating away. “Did he force you?”

  “No.” Her expression is hard now, almost numb. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “At fourteen, I doubt it.”

  She shrugs. “I was old enough to know better, but too young to know how to really protect myself.”

  “And…” I grind my back teeth together. “He didn’t use anything?”

  “I know it sounds stupid, but I don’t know. It only happened a few times. After that he started acting weird around me. I think he knew it was wrong.”

  “Of course he fucking knew it was wrong, he was a grown man and you were a child.”

  She pulls into herself and I immediately regret losing my temper.

  “You’re right,” she says quietly. “But no one else saw it that way. Especially not my parents. And when they found out that I was…”

  God the pain in her eyes is gutting me.

  “You were pregnant?” I know it’s what she wants to tell me, what I already know. But I can see how painful it is for her to say the word, so I offer it for her.

  “I’d just turned fifteen. It was my mom who realized it first. I was too stupid, too naive to see the changes in my body. By the time she took me to the abortion clinic, I was too far along to terminate the pregnancy. The funny thing…” She chuckles darkly, but there’s no humor there. “Is that we’d stood outside that same clinic multiple times with our church protesting women’s rights. But she had no problem killing her own grandchild in order to protect her precious image.”

  There’s the anger that should be there. The anger she’s been holding back, trapped under all her own guilt and shame.

  “I thought she’d send me away. You know, to one of those places they send pregnant girls.” Her eyes are vacant, and she stares ahead reliving whatever nightmare she went though. “Without a legal option, my parents took it on themselves to…terminate the pregnancy.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses.

  What the fuck does that mean?

  A sick feeling settles over me.

  “What did they do?”

  Her lips tighten and she looks at me then. “Do you rea
lly want to know?”

  “Yes.” I have to bite the word out, because there’s a part of me that doesn’t. A part of me that knows I may not be able to hold back my anger if I do. “Tell me. I want to know everything.”

  I need to know everything. It’s the only way she’ll ever truly be able to move on. If we work through these things together.

  “My mother tried different herbs. High doses of laxatives. Scalding baths. None of them worked. Only made me sick.” She rubs her arms and shivers. “My father finally took things into his own hands.”

  Fuck.

  She goes quiet. Too quiet.

  “Layla?”

  Her eyes are blank, clouded, cold. This is where I don’t want her to be. As much as I hate seeing her in pain, it’s better that she let it all out.

  “Tell me.” It’s not a request, because the distance she’s put between us right now, I know she’ll only respond to my demand.

  There’s a long drag of silence, then she says, “He hit me.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to hold back on the man if I ever see him again.

  “Nothing happened the first time. Or the second.” She’s shivering now, and it’s taking all my strength not to pull her into my arms, but every time I even move a fraction of a hair towards her, she flinches. “By the third day, I started to bleed. Even when I was contracting, when the…baby was being expelled from my body, he forced me to kneel at the edge of my bed and pray for forgiveness.”

  “My God, Layla.” Coldness settles over me and I have to blink back the tears that sting my eyes.

  “God had nothing to do with it.” Her words are filled with acid.

  “No. You’re right.”

  I understand now why this child is so important to her. Why she wouldn’t even contemplate getting rid of it. Not that I’d ever wanted her to. But in some ways it would have made things easier. It just would have destroyed her in the process.

  “And afterwards?” I ask, trying to keep her talking. This is the most she’s ever opened up to me, and I don’t take it lightly.

  “My parents tried to keep it a secret. But people talk. Someone must have seen us at the Abortion Clinic because soon the whole town was talking about the Harper’s slutty daughter who seduced the Youth Pastor. After that I fell apart.”

  I don’t care that she protests, I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her tightly. She struggles against my hold for a few seconds, before finally submitting, and going lax in my arms.

  “Those people are judgmental bastards and your parents…” My back teeth clench so hard I swear they’re going to crack. “What they did was…criminal.”

  “I know that now.” She shivers, and I see the goosebumps that mark her arms. “Maybe I always did. When I was strong enough, I ran.”

  “At fifteen?” I rub her arms, trying to imagine myself at fifteen. There’s no way in hell I would have lasted a week on my own, let alone seven years.

  “I haven’t seen either of my parents again until today.”

  I feel like such an asshole right now. Pushing her to go, after everything that they did to her.

  “You should have told me, I would never have made you go.” Threading my fingers with hers, I bring her hand to my lips and kiss each knuckle.

  “No. You were right. I needed to see her one last time. I know in her own twisted way she was trying to protect me.”

  I don’t say what I really think. Instead, I just hold her, and press my lips into her hair.

  The sound of the old clock in the hallway, Layla’s shallow, uneven breaths, are the only noises for a long time.

  “I didn’t sleep with anyone else until Travis,” she says, shocking the hell out of me. “I know you probably won’t believe me–”

  “I do.” I cup her chin and twist to look at her. “I knew who you were the first day I saw you. Good. Pure. Innocent.”

  She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes tightly. “I’m none of those things. I haven’t been for a very long time.”

  Fat tears slide down her face.

  “Yes.” I drag my thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “You are. None of what you’ve told me changes that.”

  “When I found out I was pregnant again, I was so scared. But then I thought…maybe it was a second chance. I know it’s silly. I’m still an unwed mother having an unplanned pregnancy, and I know it’s going to change everything in my life, but this time I get a choice.”

  “It’s not silly. And you’re not alone.” I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her mouth, needing her to know that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m hers, just as much as she’s mine.

  When I press my mouth against hers, her lips are hard against mine, but slowly, she begins to return my kiss. Soon her body relaxes, and I can feel the tension melting away.

  “Marry me,” I murmur, stroking her hair.

  “What?” she pulls back and frowns.

  “Marry me. Be my wife.”

  She shakes her head. “Why? After everything I told you.”

  “Because I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. I know it’s messy, and there’ll be bumps ahead, but I want to make this thing real between us. Legal and binding.”

  Her brows are drawn down, and she’s frowning at me. Not the reaction I was hoping for.

  “You’re serious?”

  “More serious than I’ve been about anything in my life.” I place my hand on her stomach. “And I want this child to be mine.”

  She tilts her head, gaze narrowing. “Carter–”

  “Listen to me before you say anything. Travis has already signed the papers. There’s nothing stopping me from claiming the child as mine.” Twining our fingers, I rest my forehead against hers. “We’ll be a family.”

  Her lips part and her eyes close. She whispers, “You’re too good to me.”

  There’s an ache in my chest that warns me she’s going to say no. That’s she’s still going to run from me.

  “I just…”

  Shit. Here it comes. Whatever excuse she’s made now to reaffirm her delusional idea that she’s not worthy of more.

  She exhales an uneven breath. “I think it’s best–”

  “Okay.” Frustration seeps into my voice, constricting my throat.

  I’m a confident guy. Maybe even verging on arrogant. But I can’t help the insecurities that creep unwarranted into the back of my mind.

  Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way about me. Maybe there’s a part of her that hopes Travis comes back. Maybe she’s just with me because she’s afraid to be alone.

  I drag my fingers through my hair and lean back against the headboard, then rub my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she mutters.

  The best I can do right now is give her a weak smile. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I start to stand, “I’ll go make us something to eat.”

  “Wait.” Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she blinks up at me, soft brown eyes full of all the emotion she’s holding back. “Don’t go.”

  She sits on the edge of the bed, and I move so that I’m standing between her legs, and her fingers immediately hook around the belt loops of my jeans.

  Brushing my knuckles across her cheek, I sigh, “You haven’t eaten since lunch.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She chews on her bottom lip, then says, “I just…need you.”

  That’s as much of an admission as she’s ever given me. “You have me.”

  Her fingers move to my belt, unhooking it.

  “Layla,” I growl, hands moving to her hair, when I see the intent in her eyes. I know her emotions are all over the place, but I understand her need. I feel it too. The need to reconnect, emotionally and physically. The need to know that everything is all right between us.

  She is the air that I breathe. Without her, I am certain I would cease to exist. If being with her means only getting half of her heart, then it�
��s the way it’s going to have to be. Because there’s no way in hell I can walk away.

  And maybe the marriage thing is just my way of making sure she can’t either.

  I groan as her hands work my jeans and boxer briefs over my hips, and my cock springs free, already hard and heavy with wanting her.

  My heart hammers in my chest when she looks up at me. God, those eyes. So fucking expressive. And they tell me everything I need to know. She may not be able to say it yet, but she cares about me, maybe even loves me. And I sure as hell know she wants me.

  Her fingers wrap around the long length of my erection and she licks her lips, before her warm mouth takes me in. She braces herself with one hand holding onto my hip as her tongue flicks the sensitive underside of my cock.

  “You have no idea what you do to me,” I groan, cupping her face as she takes me deeper into her sweet little mouth, and my balls draw up tight to my body.

  Watching her is pure, erotic bliss.

  “Come here,” I growl out, pulling her hair back gently, so my cock slides from her mouth with a little pop.

  She stands up, and I help her when she starts to pull at my shirt, reaching back and pulling it over my head.

  Her fingers instantly go to the ink on my chest, like they always do, then she looks up, eyes brimming with emotion. “I love you, Carter.”

  I swear, my heart stops in my chest, and time stands still.

  No three words have ever sounded better, but I can see the ‘but’ forming on her lips.

  I capture the word with my mouth before it has a chance to escape. I won’t let her ruin this moment with her fears.

  This moment is mine.

  She loves me. Part of me already knew it. But to hear her say it does something inside of me. Both placating and spurring on the best that wants to possess and consume her.

  I run my fingers down the curve of her neck. She shivers and makes the sweetest noise. A mix between a moan and a sigh. The sound has my balls tightening so hard, my cock throbs with need.

  I need her naked. Need her bared to me. Need to not just hear the words, but feel them in her touch.

  Chapter 23

  Layla