Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(118)
When he was done, she was still staring at him but her face had changed, her lips were parted and her eyes were intense. But she didn’t speak so he took that at his cue to continue.
“Somethin’ else, sweetcheeks,” he went on. “I know what kind of woman you are, you can’t hide it. So you made shitty decisions. I got blotto a week after you left me, f**ked the first woman who came along that night who reminded me of you, the condom broke and she got pregnant. I was drunk but that’s no excuse, it was a shitty decision. I was pissed and in pain, made that decision and bore the consequences. I lucked out and got Jasper and Tripp outta that. You, if you play your cards right, can take his ass to the cleaners and make it so you’ll never worry about money. That’s what you’ll get out of yours.”
“I think, don’t you, that I should just cut my losses and move on. There’s no reason to make Jarrod pay for me not loving him,” Rocky replied.
“Oh yeah… yeah there is,” Layne returned.
“Really? What?”
His face dipped close. “Because he could have made you happy. It was me, you gave me a shot, I’d tie myself into knots to make you happy. He didn’t do that. He treated you like shit, made you feel small and f**ked around on you. You think you played him but you didn’t. He might not be any good at f**kin’ but he’s the master at f**kin’ you over and he should pay for that.”
“Layne –” she started, her mouth had gone soft, her eyes had gone half-mast but he was on a roll.
She wanted to talk? They were going to talk.
“Why were you in my hospital room?”
Her body went solid underneath him and she repeated, “Layne.”
His arms gave her a rough squeeze. “Answer me, Rocky, why?” She closed her eyes and he gave her another squeeze on a warning, “Roc.”
She opened her eyes and whispered, “You know why, Layne.”
And that was when Layne watched the tears fill her eyes and one slid out the side, down her temple, into her hair and there it was. He knew it, or he had wanted to know it but he couldn’t be sure but there it was, the proof leaking from Rocky’s eyes.
He lifted his hand, slid his fingers into her hair and used his thumb to wipe the wetness away.
“Yeah, baby,” he said gently, “I know why and now that I’ve reminded you, can we get passed this shit?”
Apparently they couldn’t, not yet.
“You were drunk when you slept with her?”
“Yeah.”
She stared up at him and took in a deep breath then another one until her eyes cleared and she asked, “Why do men do that?”
“Baby, I did it and I don’t even know why I did it.”
She studied his face and then nodded and he felt her body ease under his, something he knew wouldn’t last long because he had to ask so he was going to ask.
“Why’d you leave me?”
Her eyes held his, Layne held his breath and she surprised the f**k out of him when she answered.
“I did it,” she stopped and licked her lips, “and I don’t know why I did it.”
He closed his eyes and turned his head away because that was pure and complete bullshit. Such bullshit, when he was being straight with her, that it pissed him right, the f**k, off. So he started to knife away but stopped when he felt her fingers curl around his neck.
His eyes went back to her.
“You know, right after I left you, two days I stayed in my room at Dad’s house and I don’t remember a second. I don’t remember eating or sleeping or going to the bathroom. I just remember getting up on the third day, all my stuff from our house in boxes and suitcases jammed into my room, and I walked down and Dad was eating cereal. He looked at me and said, ‘Want me to take you back to Tanner?’ and I said, ‘Never,’ and that was it. I don’t know why. I know…” She closed her eyes and Layne held his breath again until she opened them and went on in a whisper. “I know it hurt. I know every day I struggled with it. I know every day I wondered why I was struggling. I know how it felt when you’d call, come over, I’d hear you arguing with Dad or Merry. I know how all of that felt. I remember all of that. I know it didn’t feel good and I knew then that the only way to make it better was to go back to you. I just don’t know why I couldn’t.” The tears came back into her eyes, shimmering for a second before falling and she lifted her head, closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to his and finished. “Until you got shot.” She opened her eyes and, close up, they locked on his. “Eighteen years, every day I struggled against finding a way to connect with you but I couldn’t fight it anymore when you got shot.”
His hand sifted into her hair at the side and he slanted his head and touched his mouth to hers, muttering, “Baby.”
She shook her head and her arms slid around his shoulders, she buried her face in his neck and her body trembled with her tears as she kept talking, her voice rough and thick, difficult to hear and not because her words were hard to make out.
“Every day for eighteen years, Layne, every f**king day. I missed you every day. I’d wake up next to Jarrod and wish it was you, I’d go to sleep next to him and wish it was you.” She pulled her face out of his neck and her eyes hit his but hers were so wet he knew she couldn’t focus on him when she said, “That’s why he said that at the restaurant. He knew. He threw you in my face all the time. We fought about it, God, all the time. Once,” she pulled her hand through her hair then swiped at her cheeks in agitation, “we were making love and he asked me, right in the middle of it, ‘Who do you see, Rocky, do you see me or is Tanner f**king you?’”