Page 28 of What Hurts Us

Maybe it was because she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

While Layla ran back upstairs to grab her phone, I pawed through my junk drawer and found a spare house key.

She met me out on the porch. Her hair was still a little messy, cheeks flushed a rosy pink.My God, she was pretty.

“Ready?” she chirped.

I offered the key in my open palm. “Figured you might need this.”

She laughed as she worked it onto her keyring. “Good thinking. I would have been pissed when I got off work and couldn’t get in the house to go to bed.”

I zipped up my leather jacket as we made our way down the driveway. “What, uh… What’s your schedule like?”

“Twenty-fours,” she clipped. “Seven in the morning to seven in the morning. I’ll probably go to bed early tonight, so I’m not dragging my feet into the base tomorrow.” Her eyes lowered to my strides. “How’s the leg?”

“Fine.”Not.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to PT and following the home exercise instructions, right?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re not pushing it by going to calls at work that you’re not cleared for?” She shot a judgmental look my way as we turned onto the sidewalk, heading toward downtown Falls Creek.

“Yup.”

A smile, slow as molasses, crept across her face. “Bullshit.”

I laughed. “Your bedside manner needs work.”

“My bedside manner is fantastic, thank you very much,Mr. Thought He Was Being Abducted By Aliens.”

I nudged her with my elbow. “I told you not to give me drugs.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously wanted to fly all the way to Durham with your tibia in three pieces, poking through your skin, without pain management?” When I said nothing, she softly added, “But I’m glad you’re okay. Your gait looks good. When do you think you’ll graduate from physical therapy?”

“Hopefully not too much longer, but my sadist isn’t making any promises.”

She snickered. “I’m sure theyloveputting your grumpy ass through your paces.” I snapped my head at her in surprise, and she paled. “Sorry,” she stammered. “Sometimes I forget to leave my job humor at work.”

I pursed my lips, only offering my stifled smile to the cracks on the sidewalk. “Me too.”

The Copper Mule came into view, the bright red canvas sails shading the patio from the evening sun. Standing heaters glowed, staving off the early autumn chill. I reached over and caught Layla’s hand in mine.

“What are you—” she jerked her hand away before I could lace our fingers together. When her gaze met mine, she looked petrified.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, just shy of the crosswalk that led over to the tavern. “You sure you can do this?”

She kept her hands clasped together, ensuring I couldn’t hold one without her permission. Possibilities of what had made her react like that raced through my mind. I didn’t like the dark places those possibilities took me, and a flare of selfish protectiveness bloomed through me.

“Yeah, I just…” She glanced across the street at the packed patio. “You just surprised me, is all.”

“I surprised you by holding your hand?”

“Unpleasant memories,” she said before putting on a fake-ass smile. She opened her palm and spread her fingers, inviting me to hold her hand again.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What memories?” My mood turned fifty shades of lethal when a latent thought pricked at the edges of my brain. “Does this have something to do with you not dating cops anymore?”

“I never said ‘anymore.’”

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