Page 62 of If Only You Hurt

Now, the tears are flowing down her cheeks, and all I feel is a need to make the pain go away. She’s here, though, looking as if she’s okay from what I’m taking in.

“You’re okay, Laney. It’s okay. I’m home now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I hold her as she lets her emotions seep out of her, slowly calming down, and her breaths become even.

“Sleep now. The baby’s okay?” She nods, and I feel a part of me relax, even if it’s a very small part. I want to continue this conversation, but I also know Laney needs her rest. I can see her fighting sleep, which I assume comes from a long twenty-four hours of whatever happened.

Laney falls asleep with her head on my chest, but I am wide awake. I know my restlessness comes from all the possibilities going through my head of what Tad may have done to her. Fucking Tad.

The next morning, Laney wakes up as I’m getting out of the shower in her bathroom. She slowly moves around the cramped space not leaving much room for me to maneuver without touching her body here and there. Each time I touch her, I can see desire in her gaze. I know what she wants, but we need to talk about what happened while I was gone. The lack of sleep is a testament that it’s taking over my thoughts. Too bad my dick doesn’t have the same mindset.

I harden as I move around her, and she must feel it because she pushes her ass out to mess with me a little more. I give her a light tap and then kiss her cheek.

“Good morning, beautiful. Want some tea?” I can tell she’s disappointed her advances didn’t work on me right now, but hopefully, we can resume this seductive dance later. She nods at me in response to wanting tea, so I dry myself off and start to get some clothes on to make my way downstairs. She puts some toothpaste on her brush and starts to ready herself.

“I want to talk to you about everything that happened. But I also know you can be a beast in the morning if I don’t feed you and the little one, so I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I kiss her head, and she smiles around her toothbrush while simultaneously rolling her eyes from my beast comment.

I head downstairs. The house is quiet as everyone else is at school. I reach the kitchen and start a cup of coffee for myself while heating up water in the kettle. I look in the fridge and find some eggs to scramble and some bread to toast to get Laney some energy to start the day.

Soon enough, I hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. The moment I turn, I see her beautiful face brighten with a smile. I can’t help the smile I throw back in return. How I kept myself from expressing my feelings for her sooner will always be a mystery to me. Because right now, all I want to do is stare at her and tell her how much she makes me feel whole.

I hand her the tea and then begin plating the eggs and toast. The moment I’m about to give her a scoop of scrambled eggs, she says, “No, thank you!” scrunching her nose in disgust. When I left, she was all about eggs again, but it seems she’s back to feeling sick at the thought of them.

This is new, and I think the shock on my face urges her to explain. “Since you’ve been gone, some food aversions have returned. I now don’t like eggs… again. The thought alone makes me want to gag.” She makes a disapproving gesture and reaches for the plate with the toast.

Once we both have food, we sit at the table, and I make sure to keep my plate on the other side of me so the eggs don’t bother her too much.

“Grant, you could be sitting across the street, and I could probably smell them. Don’t worry about it. I’ll breathe through my mouth for now.” She winks as if it’s no big deal. “I should have told you before you came downstairs.”

I chuckle and start to eat, still trying to keep the scrambled mess away from her line of sight, even though it’s probably a pointless feat.

“So, do you want to explain to me what happened?” I start because I can’t truly express to her how anxious I am to hear what she has to say about the last twenty-four hours.

“I feel like you have just as much to explain on your end. How did you know something was up? I know you told Becca to rush to the yoga studio,” she fires back, curiosity painting her features.

“It was a total coincidence, I guess. I was sitting at the bar with some of the guys from the crew, and the TV just happened to be on a documentary of sorts talking about violence in our country. Of course, the segment focused on mass shootings, something that’s not as common outside of the U.S. I didn’t make much of it at first once I realized it wasn’t a breaking story. But then something on the screen caught my attention. Had I not really been looking at that time, I would have missed it.” I take a sip of my coffee, still in shock from the timing of it all.

I continue my retelling, “When one of the news segments captured some students from one of the school shootings here a few years back, one of the spectators looked familiar. At first, it didn’t hit me, but then I realized who it was. I thought it was maybe Chad, but then the more I said it, the more it didn’t sound right in my head. It dawned on me that it was Tad, and he was the guy I got the creeps from at the yoga studio.”

I run my hand through my hair, exhaustion forgotten as I recount how I was feeling before calling my sister. “I knew something was off about the guy. But I never thought it was something like this. I honestly just put two-and-two together that you had never mentioned Tad having a commonality with the school shootings, which would have been something you would have told me about as it’s an unusual coincidence. So I literally ran with it, calling you, then proceeding to call my sister for help.”

When I’m done telling Laney everything, the look of shock is evident on her face. She takes a moment, most likely processing everything I just said.

She clears her throat and begins, “Well, to say your timing is impeccable is an understatement. I hadn’t seen Tad since I fainted at the studio. When I got there yesterday to teach my yin class, he was there. He asked how I was feeling, and I told him I was fine and that I was pregnant. I could tell the news agitated him, but I honestly let it go. I barely know the guy. Turns out I should have listened to my instincts because he turned on me at the drop of a dime. The moment the studio cleared, he hid from view until I was most vulnerable. He closed the door of the class I was cleaning up and didn’t let me pass. He went on and on about how he and I were meant to be together. He went as far as to think you weren’t right for me.”

I see a flicker of remorse across her features, and I know there’s more to the story she’s not telling me. I grab her hand, allowing my fingers to rub against her knuckles in hopes she continues speaking.

After a deep exhale, she continues, “I had to say some things in hopes he would let me by. I lied my way out that door, and I feel awful, Grant.”

“It’s okay, babe. I know you were in an unimaginable situation.” I hope my expression is full of compassion because right now, I know whatever she’s feeling guilty over isn’t fair to put on her.

“I had to tell him that you and I weren’t a good match and that he would be a better choice. I lied in the most awful way in order to get him to side with me. I was hoping it would save me and the baby. It got me out of the room, but he still caught on to what I was doing. That’s when a struggle ensued. I fought him off of me. Luckily, nothing more happened, and he didn’t hurt me or the baby.”

“I promise, Laney. Nothing you said to him is being held against you. Where is Tad now?” I am trying to keep my anger at bay, but the fact he laid a hand on someone I love, in this case, the mother of my child, is something that is making me see red.

“He’s out on bail. I’m not sure what comes next. The officer told us he’d keep us updated. That’s all I know.”

I nod, knowing we are all in a bit of limbo as we wait to see what comes of Tad’s future. The fact that his PTSD was uncared for and unmonitored makes me think that he began to live in a fantasy versus the reality of his life after the shooting. It makes sense, as everyone copes differently.

“I feel for him too. That’s what’s so strange about this whole thing, Grant.” She’s fiddling with her fingers, a habit I’ve seen her sister do a lot of the time when she’s anxious. Laney has only done it a few times when she’s under extreme stress.

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