Page 64 of What Hurts Us

“One of them is,” I said as I handed him my card to cover their tab. “Don’t worry. No one’s driving. I’ll get ’em home.”

He gave a grateful nod as he handed it back. “And maybe see to it that they find somewhere else to have a night on the town next time they wanna go out.”

“I’ll have a talk with ’em,” I grumbled.

When I turned away from the bar, Layla and Beth were drunkenly slow dancing with each other while BJ had found a grizzled old timer to charm with an informative speech about the merits of Botox.

“Let’s go, ladies,” I snapped, motioning for the three of them to head out to the car. Thank heavens they went of their own free will, and I didn’t have to toss each of them over my shoulder like sacks of potatoes.

Three drunken women waltzed out, arms linked, singing an off-key sea shanty at the top of their lungs. I stuffed Beth and BJ into the backseat and made sure their seatbelts were fastened before turning to Layla.

She had the good sense to look apologetic. Not that she had anything to be sorry for. She was just out for a night with a friend—and for some reason that I had yet to figure out, Brandie Jean.Dear God, I hoped she kept her mouth shut and didn’t tell BJ the truth about us.

After a pit stop at an all-night drive-through, I dropped Beth and Brandie Jean off at BJ’s bedazzled house, their arms full of cheeseburgers and fries. The two of them promised they’d behave and go to bed after they ate.

Layla and I drove back to my house in silence. At first, I thought it was because she was mad I’d spoiled her fun. But then I realized that her silence was because she had fallen asleep on my arm.

I pulled into the drive and cut the ignition. The motorcycle helmet Layla had worn earlier was on the floorboard. I wasn’t worried about that tonight. I rounded the hood and opened her door, unbuckling her seatbelt and scooping her into my arms.

The walk from the car to the porch was longer than my usual route of carrying her from the couch up to her bedroom. With the first few steps, my shin throbbed. But with each accompanying step, the ache eased. By the time I fiddled the keys into the lock and opened the front door, I didn’t feel any pain at all.

I looked down at the woman in my arms. She slept without a care in the world. Her wine-induced snores were fuckin’ adorable. With silent steps, I scaled the stairs and slipped into her room.

“Cal?” she mumbled.

“Yeah, honey?” I was trying to work through the logistics of turning down the covers and getting her out of those vacuum-sealed leather pants.

She shifted in my arms, curling into my chest. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

I froze.

Layla sniffed. “I just don’t wanna sleep alone. I wanna know what it feels like.”

“Whatwhatfeels like, honey?” I asked softly as I turned and crossed the hallway into my bedroom.

“I wanna know what being your girl feels like.” Layla yawned. “You called me your girl.”

“He had his hands on you,” I said as clinically as I could while I laid her down on my bed. Luckily, Layla unzipped her pants, wiggling her hips until the pants loosened. I tugged her ankle boots off and peeled the leather pants the rest of the way down her legs. As I folded them and set them aside, a whimper came from the bed. Layla had attempted to get her own shirt off and, in the process, had become tangled in the cotton. Her breasts strained against the barely-there lining of her bra. I forced my eyes away from her tits and pulled her out of the t-shirt prison.

“C’mon, Honey. Let’s go brush your teeth.”

Layla pouted. “Too tired.”

“Nah, cupcake. You’ll thank me for it in the morning. Brush your teeth and drink a glass of water.”

She hit me with pitiful puppy eyes. “Then you’ll let me sleep beside you? Every time you carry me up the stairs—” she yawned “—I wait for you to lay down beside me… And you never do.”

Fuck me sideways…

“Yeah, honey.” I sighed. “You can sleep in my bed.”

Reluctantly, she dragged her feet into the bathroom, where I supervised her brushing her teeth and washing off her makeup. I rummaged through her drawers, finding one of the satin nighties she fancied. While she used the bathroom and got into her pajamas, I checked to make sure the house was locked up.

When I walked into the bedroom, Layla was under the covers in the middle of the bed. So much for the nightie I grabbed for her. She had helped herself to one of my t-shirts.And fuck, that was hot.Dark hair was fanned across my pillows. I stripped out of my shirt, tossed my jeans into the corner, and crawled in beside her. I hadn’t even gotten under the covers before Layla was laying her head on my chest and wrapping an arm around my stomach.

Her thick eyelashes were closed. Not a worry in the world marred her perfect face. Her soft breasts pressed against the side of my ribs. Layla’s breath tickled the hair on my chest.

I wanna know what being your girl feels like.

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