Page 35 of The Best You've Ever Had

“Eh, someone had to do it. I didn’t want you to get fired for fighting him.”

“I’ll never forget the look on his face.” We’re both panting from laughter as the reality of being alone hits us. It’s just the two of us in the cold parking lot, swallowed by the dark, with only the spotlight of the buzzing street light. She shivers again and I don’t want to leave this moment, but I also don’t want her to freeze. Walking toward her, I unzip my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. It’s so large that it hangs like a dress, the sleeves nearly reaching her knees. “You look like you need this.”

“Thanks.” She looks down at the jacket and back up to me. “I meant what I said in there you know.”

Her words hit me dead in the chest, impaling me with a warmth and brightness that swells in my ribcage until it’s bursting. I don’t have the words to ask questions, or the ability to articulate exactly how much she means to me. All I can do is show her.

Taking a step forward, I grab her waist, walking us back until she’s pressed against the brick wall. With nowhere to go, she arches herself into me, her body language a plea for more. My hand slides up her neck, slow and deliberate, until it entwines in the copper hair at the base of her skull. She takes a tiny inhale, and that’s when my mouth crashes into hers.

In that instant, everything changes. My whole world transforms from dark to bright the instant we connect. Our tongues swirl, sparking urgency between us. The nip of her teeth bites into my bottom lip in a desperate frenzy. This line between us for the last three decades completely dissolves like salt in water. My head is dizzy with want, every sense overwhelmed by her. The taste of grenadine and cherries. The feel of her hands tangling in my shirt to pull me closer. The small moan that’s barely audible, but enough to let me know she’s as lost in this as I am.

When she rocks her body against my erection, it takes everything in me to not lift that skimpy little dress up to herwaist. I break the kiss, my mouth traveling up her neck. Nipping at her collar bone, tongue tasting her soft skin as she tilts her head for me to reach more. She’s greedy, and touch-starved for something real, and I want to give her everything she’s ever wanted and more.

Her hands fumble at my zipper, trying to let me loose. But I grab her wrist, pinning it on the cold brick above her head. “You better be careful. I’m two seconds from fucking you against this alley wall.”

“Fuck me.” She writhes underneath me, her body squirming to make as much physical contact with my own as possible. “Please.”

Unable to resist, I reach beneath the short hem of her dress, pushing past her thong and dipping my fingers into her. “Fuck.” I work her wetness in and out with a finger before spreading it in a circle onto her clit. “Do you know how much I want inside this pussy?”

She pushes against my hand wanting more. “Then do it.”

“Not here—not in a dirty, freezing parking lot.”

She begins to protest, but I stop her—my mouth landing on hers roughly, absorbing the words of opposition. When I break away, my voice comes out in a gravelly whisper. “When I fuck you for the first time, I plan to do it the right way. I’m going to take my time, until you’re begging to come.”

Maybe we both know it’d bemetrying not to come the entire time. But there are a million dirty things I want to do to her, and I plan to do every single one of them.

Right as I’m about to ask if she wants to come back to my house, my phone rings in my back pocket. I ignore it, as I continue to kiss and touch her, reveling in the way her hands slip under my shirt, trying to touch as much of me as she can. When my phone rings a second time, a red flag goes up in my mind. It’s what has me pulling back, as she groans in disagreement. I takein the sight of her—all wild hair, swollen lips, and sparkling eyes. But when I see the name flashing on my screen, and the multiple texts I somehow missed, my heart drops.

I can feel the blood rush out of my face as my world seems to come crashing down. She instantly knows something is wrong, and hugs my waist in support while I take the call.

“Hello? Dad?”

“Sorry to interrupt the party, but I wanted to let you know that Mick was just admitted to the hospital.” I hear his voice crack, and it makes my own eyes sting with tears. “I think you need to come here. As soon as you can.”

“Okay.” My own voice sounds foreign to my ears. It sounds hollow, mimicking my current state.

Only minutes ago, I felt happy and full and excited for the things to come. Then I got too caught up in it, and reality came crashing down like a fucking avalanche.

Reaching into my pocket, Layla fishes my keys out and grabs my hand, leading me to the car.

As she walks to the driver’s side, I snap back into reality. “I can drive.”

“No. Let me do this. You’re not in a good headspace to be behind the wheel right now.”

It’s no use protesting because I know she won’t change her mind. And deep down, I know she’s right. There’s no way I can focus on the road when all I can think about is how my grandfather is slipping away from us.

I’m wrapped up in my spiraling thoughts throughout the drive, the only thing keeping me grounded is her small hand in mine. The determined look on her face, illuminated by the passing headlights, shows me she’s piecing together a plan of action. But not even the woman I’ve been in love with for years can stop my heart from breaking at the thought of losing one of the most important people in my life.

Chapter Twelve

Layla

The hours stretchand contract in a disorienting blur, like time in a funhouse. The windowless, sterile environment of the hospital grows more claustrophobic with each passing minute. We sit in uncomfortable chairs, enduring the same nineties movie playing on loop in the corner of the room, as if it’s meant to offer some form of comfort. Ben and his parents sit beside me, their bodies present but their minds adrift in their grief. A vacant look fills their eyes as they stare blankly at the small television screen.

I fetch them cup after paper cup of bitter coffee and pulpy orange juice, trying to keep myself busy and feel useful. The fact that I can’t alleviate this situation gnaws at me. I’m a problem-solver to my very core, but this is beyond my ability to fix. Something of this magnitude can’t be mended with stale blueberry muffins and bland chicken noodle soup from the cafeteria.

After what feels like an eternity, a tired-looking doctor steps out of the room and calls Brandy’s name. Their entire family leaps to their feet simultaneously and hurries over to the doctor. One half of me clings to hope, while the other braces for the worst.

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