Page 67 of Second Draft

“I’ll go.”

“What?” Her gaze jerks up to mine.

“Travis left his bags.” I nod at the duffle bag and knapsack by the front door. “He’ll be back. And you two need to talk.”

“Carter–”

“There are some things I’ve been putting off in New York. I’ll go there for a few days. Give you time to think about what you want.”

I take her hand and brush my lips against her knuckles. Every cell in my body prays that she’ll try and stop me.

But she doesn’t.

Chapter 25

Layla

I should have stopped Carter from leaving. I know that. My heart shattered into a million pieces when I watched him walk out the door.

I’ve spent the rest of the day regretting it. Every few minutes looking at my cell phone, hoping that he’ll call, or glancing at the front door and praying that he’ll walk through it.

Call him, my heart screams. But my brain doesn’t let me, because I know that Carter is right, I do need to talk to Travis, and it’s probably best that he isn’t here when I do.

I rub my hands over my bare arms when I look at Travis’ bags that still sit in the front entrance. It’s late, past ten, and he still hasn’t come back. Maybe he won’t for a few days. He has other places to stay, and I’m sure he has a lot to process.

Loneliness surrounds me like a cold blanket, and I shiver.

The house is so quiet, but it’s not just that. When Carter is here, even if he’s just working on his laptop, the place is always filled with his presence. Like a warmth that I can feel in every room. But I don’t feel that now. I just feel empty.

I should go to bed, and I’d tried, but the second I lay down, Carter’s lingering scent made my emotions go all erratic, and I had to get up, or I’d end up crying myself to sleep.

It’s going to be all rightmy heart cries, but my head counters,this is what I warned you about.

With a heavy sigh, I walk into the kitchen and grab the orange juice out of the fridge, wincing when I feel a small pain in my side. I rub the spot, feeling the baby move beneath my palm.

Three more weeks and he or she will be here. That’s what I should be focusing on. Not the fact that I may be losing the only person in my life who has ever cared about me. The only man that I’ve ever loved.

I pick up my phone that’s sitting on the counter and check my messages.

Nothing.

Swallowing hard, I scroll to his number. I need to hear his voice. Need to tell him I love him, that no matter what happens with Travis, that won’t change. I’m about to press dial, when I hear the front door open, then slam shut.

“Carter?” I put my phone back on the counter, hope surging through me. But by the heaviness of the stops, the uneven gate, I know it’s not him, even before Travis storms into the kitchen.

A prick of fear needles across my flesh.

“Where is he?” Breathing hard, he takes a few threatening steps towards me. There’s something in his eyes, a brightness that doesn’t look right. When I don’t answer right away, he yells, “Where is he?”

I flinch, which only seems to make him angrier.

“Carter went to New York for a few days. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make a pot of coffee, and we can talk?”

“You want to talk?” His lips pull up in a sneer, and he corners me against the counter. “Okay. Let’s talk. How about we start with whether that’s really my kid.”

My breath hitches, not just because of the accusation, but because the way he’s trapping me sends off warning signals in my brain. I’d never think Travis would hurt me, or anyone for that matter, but right now he isn’t in his right mind. That’s obvious.

He doesn’t smell like alcohol, but I can tell he’s not sober. And he’s clearly looking for a fight.

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