Page 14 of Loving Leila
Aware that if I move too quickly it’ll hurt like hell, I ease out of Kyle’s arms and climb out of bed. I shuffle to the bathroom, locking it behind me. Cautiously, I slide down the door and lay my head on my knees. If it wouldn’t hurt so bad, I would slap myself. Have I learned nothing?
I startle at a knock on the door. “Leila?” I hear Kyle say. “Is everything okay? You all right in there?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“You sure everything’s okay?” I can hear the confusion and concern in his voice.
The tears fall harder. My chest aches under the pressure of not allowing myself to make a sound as they do.
“Yes, all good. I just need to use the facilities.”
“Well, all right then, if you’re sure.” He doesn’t sound convinced but leaves it at that. “Call me if you need help.”
“Will do.”
When hell freezes over, that is. I need to pull myself together because I need to get Kyle gone. I have no idea who to ask for help, I only know I need him to leave. Before I break down and do something really stupid. Something I’ll regret forever. I can’t believe it took the lack of protection to call a halt to intimacy that should never have happened in the first place. Sherri would kill me if she knew what I’ve done.
I could ask her for help, but she has the kids, and I don’t want to inconvenience her. I’ll figure something out. Hearing Kyle move around the bedroom, I know it’s a matter of time before he’s banging on the door again. So I gingerly lift my ass off the floor, flush the toilet, and wash my face to try and erase any sign of my tears.
The first thing I notice when I open the door is that he’s made the bed and put Donkey in the middle of it. My heart melts a little at the sight. I can’t help it. He’s always thoughtful, helpful, considerate, and a million other things that women look for in a man. I hated that he sometimes had to be gone for long stretches, and I wasn’t allowed to know where he went; that his job was dangerous and I never knew if our goodbyes would be the last time I saw him again.
I saw what Sherri and some of the other wives when through when they lost teammates, colleagues, and friends, but I was willing to take my chances just to have him in my life. Until the day he decided he didn’t want me in his. That I tied him down and caused him to worry when his mind should be on his mission.
As if it were yesterday, I feel the pain slice through me again.
Coffee. That’s what I need. I can’t remember when last I had a hit of caffeine, and I’m suddenly desperate for some. Making my way down the hall to the kitchen, I wonder where Kyle disappeared to. He’s awfully quiet. I’d expected to find him hovering when I came out of the bathroom.
When the open-plan kitchen comes into view, I catch my breath at the sight of a shirtless Kyle standing at my stove, a wooden spoon in his hand, a pan on the burner. Just then, he turns and gives me that smile that has made me weak in the knees since the first time I saw it.
“Hey. I was about to come check on you. You had me worried.”
“I’m fine. Would love a cup of coffee though.”
“One coming right up then. Grab a seat. Your omelet is almost done.”
My mouth waters at his words. Come to think of it, I can’t remember when last I had anything substantial to eat either. He places a cup in front of me, and the smell of the coffee hits me. I inhale deeply, loving the aroma of my particular blend.
It isn’t long before Kyle places two plates on the breakfast bar, and we tuck into the food. I bite back a moan of pleasure as the taste of the omelet hits my tongue. I’d forgotten how good he is at cooking.
When we’re done eating, he clears the dishes away and tidies the kitchen as I sip my java, watching him move around my kitchen, completely at ease in the space. Deciding to go make myself comfortable in the living room, I stand up too quickly, and my knees buckle. Kyle’s lightning-quick reflexes save me from faceplanting.
I allow myself a moment to soak in the feel of his arms around me before I step back. Instead of letting me go as I’d expected him to do, he tightens his arms.
“Give me a second. Let me hold you a little longer.”
“Kyle, I –”
He drops a kiss on the top of my head, then murmurs, “You know, the guys aren’t the only ones who missed you.”
An anger unlike any I’ve experienced washes through me, and just like that, I’m mad all over again. Mad at him for hurting me. Mad at myself for being weak when it comes to this man. Just. Plain. Mad.
Jerking back out of his arms, I glare up at him. “You don’t get to say that to me. You threw that right back in my face five years ago when you packed your shit and left without so much as a backward glance.”
“Leila, sweetness –”
“No.” I make a chopping motion through the air, as if the mere act will cut off the flow of his words. “I asked you the other day, and now I’m telling you, stop calling me that,” I shout.
The shock on his face would be funny if I weren’t so pissed off.
