Page 18 of Keep Me Still
When the doorbell rings, my heart pounds, forcing blood to rush so hard through me I can hear it in my ears. Christ I need to relax.
I clench and unclench my hands a few times as I walk to the front door.Everything will be fine. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t provoke him.
Right. The Colonel’s been drinking and watching football all day. I could breathe wrong and provoke him. No idea why my mom thought this was a good idea.
When I open the door to see Layla on the other side of it she takes my breath away. You’d think I’d get used to that face. That smile. Those eyes that light up every time she sees me. You’d be wrong.
“Hey, babe.” I give her a hug and her aunt raises an eyebrow so I back off.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Layla says softly. “We brought pie.”
I grin and take the two pies they’re carrying as they follow me into the kitchen. My mom makes a big fuss over Layla’s dark red sweater dress type deal, and they talk about food while I set the table.
When my mom calls for my dad to join us, I drop the carving knife I’ve been holding. We’re just sitting down when he walks in. The air becomes thicker, and without thinking, I reach over and put my hand on Layla’s bare knee. Somehow this calms me. I glance over to see if it’s okay and she’s biting her lip. Damn, I want to bite that lip. Okay, maybe it doesn’t calm me exactly but it does distract me from the many ways in which the Colonel could ruin this dinner.
She puts her hand on top of mine and I nearly choke on my drink. I clear my throat before I speak. “Colonel, um, Dad, this is Layla Flaherty and her aunt, Katherine.”
“Kate,” Layla’s aunt corrects me. She reaches to shake his hand but he ignores her, taking a drink of the dark liquid in his glass and eying my girlfriend in a way that makes me want to tackle his old ass to the fucking ground. Kate’s eyes narrow and I see from the corner of my eye that she’s sizing him up. Probably figuring out all my secrets and plotting the easiest exit route for her and Layla.
“This the reason you missed those two field goals last week?” His voice is gruffer than usual, his words slow and falling over each other. Great. He’s drunk. Not that he’s full of sunshine when he’s sober, but drinking brings out a darkness in him that I don’t want close enough to cast a shadow anywhere near Layla.
“No, sir,” I answer evenly, hoping he’ll let it drop.
My mom, ever the peacekeeper, jumps up to fix his plate. “Sit. Relax,” she tells him. He does, but his eyes don’t leave the girl next to me. She’s rigid under my hand until I give her a little squeeze. A forced smile pulls at her lips and again, I want to kiss that mouth so badly. Want to lose myself in the taste of her. The feel of her.
“Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time gawking at Blondie, you’d have made those. Field goals win games. Or lose them, in your case.”
I take my hand off Layla’s knee so I don’t crush it. “We were down by two touchdowns, sir. I don’t think two field goals would have made much difference.”
Layla’s focusing on her plate—not touching it, just staring at it. Probably wishing she could disappear. Suddenly, without any change in her demeanor, a hand lands on my thigh. Despite the tension in the room nearly choking us both to death, my dick twitches at her touch.
“You watch your mouth, you hear me? Two field goals can be everything. If you took football seriously, there’d be scouts coming to see you.” The Colonel goes on about monumental games where field goals made all the difference. He might even refer to me as soccer fag once or twice. But my sole focus is on the small warm hand on my inner thigh.
She’s rubbing in a slow circle, applying pressure now and again—probably when she thinks what the Colonel says is affecting me. My mom and Kate are trying to make small talk but even their words are barely registering.
“Are you even listening? Goddammit. Can’t even show some respect for five fucking minutes. How the hell are you going to make it at West Point?”
His fist hits the table and Layla flinches. Son of a bitch.
“Don’t do that,” I say evenly. Her hand leaves me and I’m untethered. No longer attached to Earth by anything that matters.
The Colonel’s red-rimmed eyes bulge. “What did you say to me?”
“Jack,” my mom breaks in. “Why don’t you go back down to the den and I’ll bring you some pie?”
He ignores her. As usual. “You were man enough to backtalk to me once. Do it again. What’d you say?”
Adrenaline has me breathing so hard I can see my own chest heaving. “I said, don’t fucking do that. Don’t hit things or slam things around Layla. She has a condition. Noises like that can—”
“It’s fine,” Layla says quietly from beside me. “I’m okay.” Her hand returns, and I realize there will be immediate consequences for my actions. It all makes sense. This is why my mom invited them. She thought he’d behave around company. But when the Colonel stands, I know she was wrong. And so does she.
So does Layla’s aunt apparently. “I think we’re going to clear out of here and let you all have some privacy.” She stands and jerks her head not-so-subtly towards the living room. We both look at Layla, waiting to see what she’ll decide. She’ll run straight out the door and never look back if she has any sense.
“That’s enough, you two,” my mom says in the sternest voice she’s capable of.
“Like hell it is. Just because he’s got his little piece of ass here, he thinks he can—”
“Excuse me?” Kate lurches at the same time I do.
