Page 51 of Crossed Up

The corner of my mouth turns up in a small smirk because he just sounds so southern when he’s feeling big emotions. “I’m pretty sure we established you’re my daddy. But yes, Colin is my father.”

Realization dawns on his handsome face, and he grips my hand between his. “So the revolving door of nannies, being ignored when you were sick, the loneliness and aversion to social media?”

I nod with a shrug. “A byproduct of being the daughter of one of the most famous actors in the world while having no talent or notable skills of my own.”

His expression freezes as he turns toward me on the bed, placing one knee up on the bed and grabbing my face in his hands. “Lyla Taylor, that is absolutely not true. You are one of the kindest, smartest, most generous people I know. And for someone who grew up without a reliable parent, you’ve become one of the most important parental figures in Crew’s life. That, to me, is proof you’re so much more talented than you think.”

A smile easily emerges on my face at his words. “Thanks, Aid.”

He returns the smile briefly before growing serious again. “As for your ex, I promise it will be okay. I won’t let this motherfucker anywhere near you ever again. I know you don’t know Copeland well yet, but when he decides he likes someone, he’ll go to bat for them without question. And the man is as persistent as a leech after pond-swimming when he sets his mind to something, so having him on your side through all this is a great thing.”

Sighing, I rest my head on Aidan’s shoulder. “Getting off the bus in Charleston was the best decision I ever made.”

22

AIDAN

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

My gaze flies to the right, where Lyla sits in the passenger seat of my truck, clutching the ‘oh shit’ handle for dear life. “Angel, you have nothing to be worried about. Mama is gonna love you.”

I woke up holding Lyla in my arms this morning, both of us having crashed after we joined Crew back out in the fort, and for a few blissful seconds, I forgot that she wasn’t really mine. I got to imagine I was waking up in our home with my girl wrapped around me for the first time and that Crew knew everything.

Her shooting up and out of my arms to the other side of Crew was a rude wake-up call I wasn’t prepared for after the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.

She sighs exasperatedly. “Of course you’d say that. You have no reason to be nervous! She’s your mother.”

A snort escapes, and I give her a sidelong glance. “Have you ever met a southern mom, Ly? She’ll be sweet as sugar to you and then turn around and hit me with the third degree the second she can get me alone. I promise Mama’ll be so enthralled with you she’ll try to have us married off before supper.”

“Yeah, Lyly! Memama always says me and Daddy need a pretty girl around to keep us in line!” Crew chimes in sweetly, making me laugh.

Apparently, our words didn’t inspire any confidence because her knuckles visibly tighten, turning white with how hard she’s gripping that handle in her tiny little fist.

What woke me from my state of bliss this morning was my Ma calling me demanding we come to the house for lunch today so she could meet Crew’s nanny. Little does she know she’ll also be meeting her future daughter-in-law.

Or she will be if Lyla doesn’t end up shooting me down after our little chat yesterday.

I’m still feeling pretty raw and emotionally wrung out after all the confessions yesterday, but as long as I don’t let myself think too hard about what had her running in the first place, finally knowing Lyla’s real identity is a huge weight off my chest. Learning what and who she’s been so afraid of, though? That felt like being kicked in the thigh by a spooked horse.

The moment our tires hit the old dirt road, I grip her free hand and squeeze it, probably harder than I should. Her head whips around, and she stares at me with wide eyes but doesn’t try to get me to let go.

“Aidan, what’s up?”

I shake my head, heart pounding in a staccato rhythm against my ribs. Every time I make the turn down this road, nausea bubbles in my gut, and my heart threatens to expel itself out of my body through my mouth.

“Even though Wes and I pooled our money together to tear the trailer down and build Mama a nice little house, she didn’t want to leave the plot of land where we grew up.”

Lyla reads between the lines and gasps, her eyes darting frantically around the road before finally landing on the only piece of this place that still holds power over me.

The two small pieces of wood threaten to send me spiraling into a mess of flashbacks every time I dare make the trek to visit Mama. I’ve asked her repeatedly to take it down, but if there’s one thing Shelly Black is firm on, it’s Southern fuckin’ hospitality.

So even though her piece of shit husband beat us all within inches of our lives on a regular basis, she won’t dare touch the handmade cross our local pastor put up to honor his memory. It’s not enough that the cross sits directly in front of the stump that we hit, but there’s also a fresh goddamned bouquet of flowers every time I pass it.

Mama’s never said outright if she was the one who left the flowers, but she also hasn’t denied it. That cross is the reason Wesley refuses to come down here unless he absolutely has to, and because he’s the prodigal son, she lets him get away with it and goes to him.

Whereas the one time I tried to get out of coming for Saturday lunch, she told Crew she couldn’t wait to see him and forced my hand.

Lyla looks back to check on Crew and then moves the center console up so she can buckle herself into the middle seat. Resting her head on my shoulder, she places a small hand on my thigh. No words are said, but as we pass the spot where my father lost his life, I breathe a little easier than I ever have before.

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