Page 10 of Beautiful Thing

I frown, not wanting her to back down to this asshole. “He can’t kick you out. You have rights.”

I’m no lawyer, and I have no idea if that’s true. But I’m ready and willing to take the law into my own hands to protect Layla and Sky.

She shakes her head, her eyes pleading with me as she holds my stare. “Iwantto go. I just need to get my stuff. And Sky’s.”

I take a ragged breath, my attention bouncing from Layla to Razor and back again. “Are you sure?” I ask her.

She nods. “I don’t want to live with all the drama and him showing up unannounced. It’s not worth it.”

Considering her words, I give her a single nod back.

Then I turn my eyes to Razor. “You heard her.Move.”

His face scrunches up, somehow looking even uglier than usual. “You don’t have a right—”

I take another step forward, bumping into his chest. “Get out of the way before I fucking demolish you right here on this doorstep.”

He pales slightly, reluctantly stepping out of the way.

Layla hands Sky to me and disappears inside the house. I hold onto the squirmy twenty-three-month-old, pulling my fur-lined bomber jacket around him as he buries his face in my shirt. He lets out a quiet whimper, gripping onto my shirt, as though he feels safe in my arms.

I gently pat Sky’s back. Razor glowers my way.

That’s when he loses his shit. Again.

“Hey! That’smyson! He should be hugging on me!” He lunges toward us, but I take a careful step to the side, avoiding Razor’s sluggish moves.

I shake my head as he stumbles around. “Shut your gingivitis-infected gums. ’Cause this kid sure as heck doesn’t know who you even are.”

That pleasant little reminder seems to do the trick. Razor closes his trap, and remains silent and seething the rest of the time. But he doesn’t stop glaring at me, as I pace the porch with Sky in my arms.

We remain outside like that until Layla emerges with a few hastily packed bags.

“Got everything you need?” I ask, turning in her direction.

“I think so,” she whispers.

I follow her off the porch, ignoring Razor’s eyes on our backs. Then I slide Sky into her arms and grab her bags so I can shove everything into the back of my truck. Just feet away, in her own car, Layla is wordlessly strapping the toddler into his car seat.

Before I climb into my truck, I pause and meet her gaze. “We’re going to my place,” I tell her.

She gives me a shaky nod, before she pulls her beat-up car out of her driveway. I wait until she’s safely reversed onto the street, before I follow her up the road to my house, leaving Razor behind in our dust.

5

LAYLA

Isit on the edge of Archer’s super cozy couch, nibbling on my cuticles and feeling like an absolute nervous wreck.

Archer strolls into the living room of his quaint log cabin, hands me a fresh cup of coffee, and drops down on the couch next to me.

Cradling the mug like it’s a lifeline, I take slow, soothing sips. I’m so tired. I’m so drained. My only comfort at the moment is knowing that Sky’s safe and sound asleep just a couple doors down the hall.

The minute the three of us walked into Archer’s quiet house, Sky conked out. He was overstimulated and positively worn out after having to listen to his parents yell and fight all night long.

Now my baby is tucked into the large bed in the spare bedroom, cuddling the lumberjack teddy bear Archer gave him two Christmases ago.

I glance in Archer’s direction, teary-eyed and feeling guilty. “You’re late for work. I’m so sorry. I turned your morning upside down with all my drama.”

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