Page 15 of Beautiful Thing

Because it didn’t matter whatIwanted. It mattered what was right. Kissing Layla in that state would have been the furthest thing from right. And self-discipline is the single most important lesson I’ve held onto from my military days.

That night, I’d scooped Layla off her feet in the living room, carried her to bed and tucked her in. She didn’t say a word as I said ‘good night’ and took off.

I spent the next few days, trying to muster up the courage to bring up the subject with her, at a time when she wasn’t half-drunk and vulnerable. But low and behold, less than a week later, Layla and Razor were back together again.

It was like a freaking punch to the gut. A replay of a storyline I’d lived out back in my teenage days.

Ever since that night when her lips almost touched mine, there has always been this slight undercurrent of weirdnessbetween Layla and me. A distance between us that’s felt impossible to bridge. No matter how many smiles she throws my way. No matter how many times she goes on and on about us being ‘friends’. There’s just been this awkward energy between us.

Part of me—the delusional part of me—likes to imagine that it’s because she’s frustrated with me for not letting that kiss happen. But realistically, I’m sure it’s just because she’s embarrassed. She probably regrets ever coming onto me in her moment of weakness.

Meanwhile, I’m still over here fantasizing, imagining how everything could have ended differently that evening, if I would have just been a selfish bastard and kissed her instead of walking away. My punishment for being a coward was being forced to watch Layla continue her toxic on and off relationship with Razor for a while longer.

The final straw didn’t come until Sky was around four months old. Razor got completely wasted while babysitting as Layla was out on a job interview.

The deadbeat dickhead completely forgot he was watching his own kid, and left Sky unattended on the living room floor while his drunk ass passed out on the couch for hours.

By the time he woke up, the child was inexplicably burning up with a fever. Too drunk out of his mind to string together a coherent thought, Razor brought Sky to Felix’s medical clinic. Thank god Karli was there and she rode in the ambulance with Sky to the hospital where the doctors saved his life.

Layla lost it. She kicked Razor out the very next day, and she never took him back again.

Good fucking riddance.

But it hasn’t been all that easy for her. While I’ve been thrilled that her useless ex hasn’t been in the picture, it’s painful to see Layla struggling as a single parent. Not that Razor wasmuch help in that department, but at least he contributed to some groceries occasionally.

For the longest while, she had a tough time holding down a steady job, because every time something would come up with Sky—doctor appointments, illnesses, or just a rough day where he was extra fussy—she’d have to call out and miss work.

She lucked out a few months ago when she got hired at Hammers and Hardware. The owner was this grumpy old man who somehow had a soft spot for Layla. He didn’t bat an eye when she needed to take days off for her kid. Things were finally looking up for her.

Until I got word that the hardware store owner was thinking of going out of business.

I panicked.

I did something crazy.

I coerced Darius into a business partnership and we bought the damn place. Just so Layla could keep a stable job.

And to this day, she doesn’t know the truth behind my intentions. She just thinks that I was ready to get out of the logging industry and try a new business venture. I have no idea how she’d react if she ever found out the truth. She’s not one to accept help lightly. Not that I can blame her.

I’ve always admired her independence.But I’m also drawn to help her.To ease her pain. To protect her from the cruel cards she’s been dealt.

My attraction to her doesn’t really matter anyway. I decided a long time ago, I could never put the moves on her. I’m too damn old for her. Too grumpy. Too reclusive.

So no matter how much I care about her, I can’t do something stupid. Fuck, especially now. She’s way too vulnerable.

Even still, she’s the only woman I ever think about.

When I look up, I’m surprised to find myself parked in the back alley of my hardware store. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here, sitting in my truck and thinking about Layla.

A flatbed truck carrying today’s lumber delivery is already parked by the service door. The driver is standing in the alley, chatting with one of my backroom guys.

Shaking my head, I climb out of my vehicle, immediately pull out my phone, and send Layla a text message.

Me: Everything OK?

She responds less than a minute later.

Layla: We’re fine. Sky just woke up and had a snack. We’re about to take a walk in the backyard for some fresh air.

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