A Father's Fight: Blake and Layla #2 (Fighting #5) (6 page)

Eight

Layla

“As soon as Cameron announces a fight, I open a file
here.” I click on the program and that opens to multiple files.

I decided after lunch today that the condo was too quiet and I
needed something to do, so I came to the training center to go over some last
minute things with Eve since she’ll be taking over while I’m on maternity
leave. “The easiest way to do it—”

“Layla, you’ve shown me this.” Eve’s deadpan voice calls my eyes.
“Multiple times.”

“Oh, well then”—I click off the program—“I can show
you how to file the invoices for—”

She groans and drops her head into her hands, fisting her thick
blond hair. “You showed me that too.” I slump back in my chair, and she swivels
hers to face me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, why would you think something’s going on?” I force a
light laugh and avoid her piercing glare.

“Why aren’t you home? We’ve been through everything I need to do
here. Things are mellow until the next fight, so why not hit maternity leave
early?” Her pinched brows and probing blue eyes attempt to read me.

“And do what? Sleep all day?”

“Yes, or any of the other stuff pregnant chicks do like shop for
baby shit or eat or do that nesting thing where you reorganize your house.”

I’ve already done all that. And redone it. I push up and arrange
papers that don’t need arranging. “There’re still some things I’m sure we need
to go over like . . .” I run my eyes over the desk, even turn to peek into Cameron’s
office. “Hm . . . there’s got to be something.”

“Layla, stop.”

I open my mouth to protest, but learned long ago that arguing
with Eve is an auto-lose situation. “Fine.”

She blinks down at the floor where my purse is, but quickly
brushes off whatever she’s thinking. “Look, you’re welcome to hang out as long
as you want, but you don’t have to do it teaching me stuff. We can—” Her
gaze darts back to my purse. “You gonna get that?”

“Hm?” I pretend that I don’t hear the incessant buzzing of my
phone, even though it’s been ringing every hour since six a.m. “No, it’s
probably nothing.”

Her eyes pull into tight slits. “How do you know that? It could
be important.”

The phone continues to buzz. “Nah, Blake’s here. He knows where
to find me and Axelle’s in class.”

The buzzing stops, only to start up again.

Eve locks eyes with me, and the phone’s vibration suddenly seems
like a roar.

“Oh for the love of God.” She grabs my purse and fishes out my
phone.

I snag the purse back by the strap a little too eagerly, which
only tightens her stare.

She hits the screen and puts the phone to her hear. “Hello?”

Shit!

Her eyes widen a little. “Yes, I’m listening.”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

I reach for the phone, but she turns and jumps up from her seat
faster than my big ole body can move.

Dammit!

“Yeah, go on.”

This is it. Eve’s going to find out, tell Blake, and he’ll lose
his shit and open a whole new world of
what
the fuck
right before I have this baby. I can’t handle this. I don’t want
anything to do with any of this.

Her body turns slowly, and her eyes are wide on mine. “I’m going
to have to get back to you on that.” A few beats of silence. “Okay, bye.” She
hits End and moves back into her seat, falling back hard and letting her head
drop back. “Whoa.”

“Eve, listen, I can explain . . .” But no words come out of my
mouth.

Her head lulls to the side. “He says he’s Axelle’s dad.” Her
voice is a whisper, and I could hug her for her discretion. Lord knows it’s not
her usual MO, but the fire of anger keeps my arms locked to my sides.

“I figured.”

“Do you remember him?” She’s still whispering.

“I don’t even know his name. I haven’t been answering the calls,
and the one time I did I hung up the second I realized he . . .” I drop my head
into my hands and force back the burn of tears. I won’t cry over this. I refuse
to shed another tear. What’s done is done and it brought me my daughter. I
can’t find it in my heart to regret that.

“His name is Trip Miller.”

My breath freezes in my lungs. Trip? My high school crush? The
guy I went out of my way to impress, but wouldn’t give me the time of day?

“I take it you know him?”

I nod and get lost in my memories. The night I got pregnant with
Axelle I went to that party looking for him. I drank and drank, and he never
seemed to even notice I was there. He wasn’t even friends with Stewart. How did
he end up . . .? Bile rushes into my throat.

I cup my mouth with my hand. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She moves quickly, pulling me to my feet and helping me to the
ladies’ restroom down the hallway. I race into a stall and vomit everything I’d
eaten that day until there’s nothing left but spit.

I don’t want to do this. “I don’t want to face this.” Not now.

“I know, Layla, I do, but sooner or later you’re going to have
to.”

I didn’t even realize she was so close, but feel the tug of her holding
my hair back. I shake my head and wait for another rush of puke that never
comes then drop back on my ass, leaning against the adjacent wall.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We barely spoke five words to each
other.” Especially after I ended up a pregnant teenager. He avoided me completely
after that bomb dropped. Is this why? “How could he do this to me?” Tears fall
in streams down my cheeks as the weight of betrayal sets in.

I was asleep, totally drugged, and he took advantage of me. I thought
I loved Trip back then, at that age all love feels like the deepest kind of
love. And he treated me like some piece of pass-around pussy.

And now he’s claiming to be Axelle’s father? What the hell
brought that on?

Images of him flash behind my eyes: his deep blue eyes and brown
shaggy hair. I remember it was so thick, the kind that women would die to have .
. .
 
just like Axelle’s.

A sob rips from my chest.

“That’s it. I’m going to get Blake.” She moves to leave.

“No!” Panic floods my veins and I try to push myself to standing.
“No, please don’t.”

She gives me her hand and helps me to my feet. “Layla, you can’t
keep this from him.”

“I know, but I need time to figure this out before I talk to
him.” Between Stewart and now Trip, I don’t know what to believe. What do I
say?
Hey, Blake. Guess what? We have another
guy claiming to be my baby daddy. Maybe in a few years we’ll have a baker’s
dozen.
I groan and rub my temples.

She flushes the toilet, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a
good idea.”

“Please, Eve.” I wipe my eyes and try to pull myself together.
“You don’t understand Blake. He’s protective to a fault. He’ll go after Trip
and end up back in jail or worse. Just . . . please.” My stomach pinches
painfully at my lie. It’s not a total lie, but the truth is I don’t want Blake
to be reminded of my past any more than I do.

Everything we have, everything we’ve worked to overcome will come
crashing down around us. He’s already in a weird place with the baby coming and
all his responsibilities that go along with it, changing from a single guy to a
family of four almost overnight. The information about someone snooping around,
which I’m sure now is Trip, is bound to make any man nervous, especially
someone as protective as Blake. Yeah, I need to take care of this on my own. Squash
it before it reaches him and Axelle.

Fuck, this is all such a nightmare.

My nightmare
. . . the
laughing. Was Trip there that night, laughing?

A new wave of hysteria threatens to drop me to my knees, but
Eve’s eyes are locked on me.

I cough to clear the emotion from my throat. “I think I might
head home after all.”

She nods, and sympathy shines in her eyes. “Yeah, I think that’s
smart.”

I move to the sink, rinse my mouth out, and clean up my face.
“Eve, promise you won’t say anything?”

She meets my eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Yeah,
but only if you promise me you’ll talk to Blake. You can’t handle this on your
own. It’s too big and you’re too fragile right now.”

There’s pain in her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s
thinking about what happened with Raven. One minute all was well, and the next
Eve was laid up in a hospital bed, praying for her best friend and her baby.

“You don’t understand. This has the potential to ruin my life.
What if he is Axelle’s father? What does that mean for Blake, and how will all
this affect him?” A single tear drips down my cheek. “How will it affect us?”

Sympathy softens her eyes and she steps closer. “He has no power.
He can’t just breeze in, confess he raped you in high school, and waltz away
with parental rights.”

“You heard how persistent he was with me. What if he tries to
contact
her
? Why should she . . . no,
why should we have to pay the price for their cruelty?” A fresh wave of tears
pours down my face.

Her eyes widen. “I’m not defending him. I’m not, but . . .” She
chews the inside of her mouth. “What if there’s more to the story? He made it
sound like whatever it is he wants to tell you is important.”

“I can’t handle learning more about that night.” I sniff back
tears and try to compose myself. “I just can’t.”

Eve’s eyes shine as well, and I force myself to turn away, unable
to witness her pain on my behalf.

“Eve!” I hear a banging knock on the door and Cameron’s bellowing
voice. “You in here?”

I sniff and wipe my cheeks. “Crap.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Give me a sec.”

“You with Layla? Daniels’s up here looking for her!” He calls
through the door.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I take a quick peek at my splotchy face and
bloodshot eyes. No way they’ll buy that I wasn’t crying. Fuck!

Eve lifts her eyebrows, and I nod that I’m as ready as I’ll ever
be. We move out of the bathroom to find a concerned-looking Cameron. His glare
moves between Eve and me, but thankfully his woman wraps her arms around his
neck and pulls his lips to hers. “Hey, babe. Just a little girl talk is all.”

I duck my chin and move back toward my desk where Blake is
sitting, one half of his ass on the top and his hand on his hip. He’s wearing
training clothes, and his hair looks damp.

“Hey, Bla—”

“What the fuck is going on, Layla?” His eyes move from my
forehead to my cheeks, eyes, and land on my lips.

I give him a shy smile and dab my cheeks with my fingertips. “Got
a little emotional talking to Eve.”

His eyes dart to Eve, who thankfully is still facing Cameron and
dropping kisses along his jaw so Blake can’t see the guilt she’s probably
wearing on her expression. “Emotional? Talking about what?”

“Oh ya know . . .” I roll my eyes. “Babies, puppies, diaper commercials,
the normal stuff.”

His glare tightens. Shit, he knows I’m lying. I close the space
between us, and he opens his legs a little wider to welcome me between them. My
arms move to wrap around his neck, and he braces my hips in a firm grip. He
opens his mouth to talk, but I beat him to it.

“I was just headed home, wanna come?” I lean in and press a soft
kiss on his bottom lip, redirecting him with sex, not my proudest moment.

His eyes flare with desire, and I watch with fascination as the
worry that shone in the green depths dissolves a little. “With you, Mouse, I
always wanna come.”

A genuine giggle bubbles up from my throat, and I’m thankful for
the break from all the tears. “Let me grab my stuff and we’ll go.”

He grabs a handful of my ass and kisses my forehead. “I’ve got
something I need to do, but I’ll meet you at home.”

“Okay, but”—I run my nose from his shoulder, up his neck, breathing
him in, to his ear—“don’t shower. Save that for me.”

He growls with a hunger so deep that my thighs clench together.

This is where I want to be, where I want to stay. Far away from
the memories with a future filled with new memories to make. I refuse to live
my life in fear, afraid to turn every corner because there could be some sliver
of my past waiting to explode in my face.

But Eve’s right. I’m fragile right now, and my number one
priority is getting this baby here whole and healthy. Trip waited eighteen
years to come forward with whatever information he has about that night. He can
wait a little longer. I’ll avoid his calls, and he can stay busy digging up
records until I’m strong enough to end this once and for all.

Renewed by the little control I’ve gained in having a plan, I
resolve to live in the moment. And as if the universe was out to torture me, my
phone starts vibrating again.

Son of a bitch!

Nine

Blake

Before I even register the vibration of Layla’s phone
on her desk, I see her eyes widen a fraction and then relax, trying to cover up
her response. She moves to grab it, but I’m closer and snag it before she gets
there.

I accept the call. “Who is this?” Not at all in the mood for social
niceties, I bark out the question and am met with silence from the end of the
line. “Hello?”

“Um . . . I’m sorry. I’m calling for Ms. Moorehead?” A woman,
polite and professional, but fuck hearing that last name is startin’ to grate
on my nerves. Axelle’s legally mine, Layla’s carrying my baby and is way the
fuck mine, and neither of them have my last name. Yet. “She’s here. May I ask
who’s calling?”

Layla’s face has gone pale, and she’s sucking on her bottom lip.
Is she going to cry?

“Yes, of course. This is Debra Thompson. I’m Axelle’s guidance
counselor. If this is a bad time, I can call back later.”

“Hold on a sec.” I hit Mute and reach to pull Layla to me, but
she flinches. I hold my hand up and lean away from her. “Mouse, what the hell
is going on? You look like you’re about to pass out.” I grab her desk chair and
wheel it to her. “Sit.”

With tentative steps, she moves to the chair and drops down. I
squat down to eye-level, and she gulps in a quick breath.

“Listen, it’s the school. Axelle’s fine. It’s just her guidance
counselor, probably wants to talk about her admission to UNLV.”

“Oh my . . .” She slumps over and leans her forehead into her
hand. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’m not myself lately. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want me to have her call you back?”

She nods a few times into her hand.

I hit Unmute and put the phone to my ear while keeping my other
hand on Layla’s hip. “Mrs. Thompson, if you could call Layla back, we’d
appreciate that.”

“Sure thing.” There’s a smile in her voice. “You must be Mr. Daniels?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Elle speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you, it means a lot hearin’ that. I always thought
teenagers were supposed to hate their parents.”

Debra chuckles. “Yes, well . . . not all of them. I’ll try Ms.
Moorehead back in a couple hours.”

I grit my teeth and nod then say goodbye.

“Hey . . .” Eve and Cameron step up to us. I almost forgot they
were even here. Eve shares a quick moment with Layla; it’s that brief
non-verbal shit women do with their eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Layla takes a shaky breath. “Axelle’s guidance counselor
called. I just, um . . . I’m jumpy today.”

Not a lot surprises me anymore when it comes to a pregnant woman
and her moods, but my guess is her jumpiness has to do with that damn email. I
clench my jaw, angry at myself for being so careless. She never should’ve seen
that.

“Right.” Eve’s eyes bounce between Layla and me, and Cameron seems
confused. “Cameron and I are going to head down to the break room and grab a
drink.” She nods to Layla, more non-verbal crap.

What the hell was that?

I can’t help but think something’s going on all around me but I’m
oblivious to it all. When I look at Cameron, he only scowls and shakes his head.
That’s non-verbal guy speak for
don’t
fucking ask me, I’m just as lost as you, brother.

Whatever it is I brush it off to pregnancy hormones and girl shit
and hand Layla her phone. “Debra Thompson is calling you back to talk about
Axelle in two hours.”

“Great, yeah.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “That’s . . . great.
Okay.”

I tilt my head, studying her. “You upset about the email?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head convincingly. “It’s not that. It’s
just . . .” She exhales long and hard. “I’m tired, but can’t sleep.” Her hands
brace on our baby. “I’m uncomfortably huge, but can’t do anything about it. I’m
starving, but can’t fit more than a teaspoon of food in my stomach at a time.
My joints are all loosey-goosey, my feet are swollen, and I’m just so ready to
have this baby and yet completely terrified at the same time.” She blinks up at
me.

I’m stunned silent, shaking my head.

“What?”

“Fuck!” I rub the back of my neck. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, welcome to my world of crazy.” A tiny blush hits her
cheeks.

“Brae was going to stop by for dinner tonight, but I’ll call him
and cancel. I don’t want—”

She perks up. “Mmm . . . are you barbequing?”

“Yeah.” I try to hold back my grin.

“Don’t cancel.” She licks her lips as if she can already taste
the food.

Warmth explodes in my chest. Fuck, I love this woman and I hate
to see her hurting, and even seeing her uncomfortable is a kick in the nuts. I
tug her to me, and she collapses into my chest. “Bossy Mouse.”

My conversation with Brae in the weight room comes back to me.
This woman is so deep under my skin there’s nothing I wouldn’t do or sacrifice
to keep her, even if it meant my own happiness.

It’s nothing like what my mom goes through with my dad, but for
the first time, I can see where her devotion to The General comes from.

She loves him so deep down in her soul that torture with him is
better than the pain of never having him around. I inhale Layla’s hair and feel
the shift in my heart where my mother is concerned.

Is it possible she’s not as bad as I thought?

~*~

Layla

It’s just before sunset and I’m in the kitchen throwing
together the finishing touches on a fresh salad while Blake and Braeden
entertain Axelle on the patio and grill steaks. It’s amazing how much the
brothers look alike: same build, dirty blond hair, and those cutting green eyes
that Blake says they get from their father, who I’ve yet to meet.

Blake hasn’t talked about him much, but I know his dad is the one
who kept him from his gift with music, so I already don’t like the guy. But
watching their easy laughter and the way they’re tuned in to Axelle as she
talks about school and her future move to college makes me wonder how bad The
General could be to raise two great sons.

I slide the bowl into the fridge and move outside to join the
conversation. Before my feet even cross the threshold of the sliding glass doors,
Blake’s eyes dart to me. I can almost hear his thoughts as he takes in my
socked and Ugg-booted feet, leggings, and sweatshirt.

Yes, Blake, I’m warm
enough.

His gaze lands on mine and softens before he flashes his
signature crooked smile. That look warms me with a different kind of heat,
which makes me want to strip naked and fan myself.

He pulls up a chair next to his and nods to it while staying in
the conversation with Braeden and Axelle.

“I just can’t decide between getting an apartment with some
roommates and living in the dorms.” Axelle twirls a long strand of her hair.

“Dorms.” Blake leans back and takes a long pull off his beer.

“I’m with Blake.” Brae nods. “Dorms.”

“You’d think that would be the cheaper option, but it’s not. I
mean”—she shrugs and picks at strings that hang from the hole in the knee
of her jeans—“I saw an ad for some people searching for a roommate for
only $250 a month. I’d get my own room and—”

“No fuckin’ way, Axelle.” Blake shakes his head, eyes closed as
if he refuses to hear another word.

I open my mouth to reprimand him for his language, but it never
helps, so I keep my lips shut.

He rubs his head, irritated. “You’re not moving in with people
you don’t know.”

She drops her head back with an exasperated groan. “I don’t see
what the big deal is.”

“Honey, don’t get upset.” I lean forward and rub her forearm. “He’s
right. You don’t want to shack up with a bunch of strangers. They could be
psychos or hoarders or
guys
.”

Blake points to me. “Exactly.”

Her eyes widen for a split second before she reins in her
reaction. “Ha!” She laughs nervously and then drops her gaze to her lap. “It’s
not like the dorms will be all that different.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I
won’t know anyone there either.”

“Yeah, but dorms have records. And rules. At least you can’t get
murdered by someone after curfew without it being caught on video surveillance.”
Brae grins, his smile not as predatory as Blake’s. He’s more . . . pretty, less
edgy, which somehow makes him seem more dangerous.

“I agree with them, Axelle.” I absently rub my baby-ball belly.
“How about we compromise? One year on campus, make some good friends, and then
you can get an apartment.”

“Sounds fair.” Blake grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze,
peering down at me with pride.

I love him.

“Fine, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “At this point, I’m just
hoping I get accepted.”

After Axelle’s guidance counselor called back, she assured me
there’s a good chance my daughter will get accepted with her latest test
scores, but there’s no guarantee. I think she said more, but I had a hard time
paying attention with my pulse raging in my ears. Stupid phone rang and I’d
shot three inches in the air with a yelp. Blake threw me a curious glare from
across the kitchen, clearly noticing my nerviness.

I can’t stop thinking about Trip. How in the world did he end up
with Stewart and his crew that night? Not that it matters now. Even if he does
come forward, there’s little I can do legally. The statute of limitations would
keep me from trying to prosecute him, so other than a painful admission of
guilt, he’d owe no penalty to the state. Chances are he’s just a selfish prick
looking to free up his conscience.

The sad thing is if he’d given me the time of day back then I
would’ve slept with him willingly. God, this is all so fucking disturbing.

My stomach churns and hunger pangs claw away at my insides,
waking the baby. I put my hand on a little hard spot as it rolls across the
left side of my belly below my ribcage. “Ah, yeah.” I blow out a long breath.
“It’s getting tight in there, little buddy, I know.”

“Is she moving?” Blake leans over and puts both hands on my
abdomen. “Hey, baby . . .” He presses his lips to the rolling part of a human
that’s jackhammering my lungs. I run my hand through his hair, holding him to
me and absorbing the love he’s pouring over our baby in whispers.

“I thought you said you didn’t know what you were having?” Brae
leans forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, and his eyes fixed on
Blake’s attention to my tummy.

“We don’t. Blake’s just convinced it’s a girl.” I massage my
fingers into the back of his neck in soothing circles. “Of course he’s wrong. It’s
totally a boy.”

A timid smile pulls at Brae’s lips. “Man, that’s such a trip. My
big brother’s gonna be a dad.”

Blake peeks up at Axelle. “Already am, bro.” A moment of silence
descends on us, and my daughter’s face goes soft at being claimed by a father.

The past pushes to get in, to remind me of what I have to face
sooner or later with regard to Trip and his phone calls, but I refuse to focus
on that now.

“Whoa!” Blake pulls his hand back for a split second before
placing both hands back on my belly. “Dude, you gotta feel this!”

His eyes are wide, and he motions for Braeden to come over.

Brae kneels at my feet and moves to place both hands on my belly
but darts his gaze to mine first. “Layla? May I?”

He’s asking permission to touch me? “Of course.” I nod and bite
my lip against the emotions billowing just below the surface.

The heat of his big hands warms me as he palms my belly like a
basketball. His eyes narrow for a second and then close in concentration.

Oh!
Huge kick-stretch
to the ribs.
Ow.

“Holy fuck!” His eyes slide to mine. “Damn, little sister, that
had to hurt.”

I grunt and grit my teeth. “Ah, it’s not so bad. Things are
getting cramped in there though, so I think he’s anxious to get out.”

“What was that? A foot?” He moves his hands around to feel again.

“Crazy ass shit, huh?” The light excitement in Blake’s voice
calls my eyes, and I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have this.

I’m not alone this time.

And if I weren’t so lost in my own relief and thoughts of myself,
I’d notice the pain radiating from my daughter’s eyes.