22. Layla

The sight of Tierney and her camera crew outside my house sends a surge of anger coursing through me, my fists clenching at my sides as I watch her belligerent display from the safety of the window.

How dare she show up here, accusing me of being a homewrecker, of tearing apart her relationship with Brock. It"s absurd, and outrageous, and I can feel the heat of my fury rising with each passing second.

How dare she involve my child in it all.

I want to hate her, but instead I feel sorry for her. She is clearly so hurt that she's lashing out and doesn't know how to handle rejection.

But beneath the anger lurks a gnawing uncertainty, a nagging suspicion that refuses to be ignored. Could Brock have orchestrated this somehow, planned it all as some twisted scheme to force a confrontation? It"s a crazy thought, utterly absurd, and yet... the idea lingers, taunting me with its possibility.

I shake my head, trying to banish the irrational notion from my mind. Brock would never do something like that, would he? It"s unthinkable, inconceivable, and yet... I can"t shake the feeling of unease that clings to me like a shadow.

He proposed to you in a fake engagement and then proposed to Tierney for real.

Yeah, but if that were true why did he show up here asking to talk?

As I listen to the sounds of Breckin and Brock downstairs, their laughter and chatter filtering up through the floorboards, I feel a pang of longing tug at my heart. Despite everything that"s happened, there"s still a part of me that yearns for the family we could have been.

Breckin has never been without positive male role models. My dad and Eric immediately stepped into that role the second he was born. Eric invited hockey friends to hang out and Breckin has been in the locker room, on the ice, or around the team every chance possible. The amount of people in town who have stepped up for him too, especially Tyler coaching the hockey team, he's been so blessed in that aspect.

He"s never once asked me why he doesn't have a dad. He's got this big heart and so much empathy, patience, and kindness for others. I have so much guilt about not knowing who his dad is, but Breckin has never made me feel guilty about that.

Hearing Brock interact with Breckin, and hearing their laughter from the basement is melting all the walls around my heart. I don't want this to end for Breckin's sake. He finally has a dad, but it seems the Universe is trying to conspire against that.

Brock"s voice is low and gentle, the sound a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. I can hear the love and affection in his words as he interacts with Breckin, the warmth of their bond evident in every playful exchange. And for a moment, my resolve wavers, my anger melting away in the face of their undeniable connection.

My phone starts ringing and I see Lula's face on the screen.

"What is going on? I've had three people tell me your front yard is a circus."

"Tierney showed up with a camera crew. It"s a nightmare, I don't know what to do."

"Did you call the police and have them removed."

"They're technically on public property. They only came in my yard when we were outside, they haven't since.""You still should or you're going to be a prisoner."

"Breckin let Brock in the house with us."

"Well maybe this is the universe"s way of making sure you and Brock have the conversation you need to have."

Maybe she"s right. Maybe this is just the push we need to finally confront the elephant in the room, to lay our cards on the table and see where we stand.

***

After dinner, the three of us wash dishes and I forget that Brock is a snake in the grass. I don't want to believe that he's a horrible human being but so much has happened that I can't shake.

We settle in to watch a movie. Breckin sits in between Brock and I as we watch a Marvel movie. It's not long before he's passed out on me.

Brock stands up and swings him into his arms.

"I'll carry him to bed and tuck him in."

"Thanks."

I remain on the couch, half watching the movie and half lost in my own thoughts.

Brock emerges from the room, his eyes meet mine, and I can see the turmoil reflected in their depths, a silent plea for understanding.

"Layla," he begins, his voice soft with remorse. "I"m so sorry for everything you"ve had to go through because of me. I never meant to drag you into this mess, to put you in harm"s way."

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach. "You don't need to apologize."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I thought the fake engagement would keep Tierney at bay, that it would buy us some time to figure things out. But it seems like it only made things worse. I never proposed to Tierney. She's lying."

"She's making everything up?"

Brock nods, his gaze never leaving mine. "Yeah, I have texts where she threatens me."

He pulls out his phone to show me but I hold up my hand. I take a moment to process his confession.

"I appreciate the apology and the transparency, Brock. I really do. But this... this is just too much. The drama, the chaos — I can"t allow Breckin to get pulled into it."

Brock"s shoulders slump, his expression one of defeat. "I understand, Layla. I just wish there was some way to make things right, to fix the mess I"ve made."

He leans forward and kisses me gently. Everything I feel for him comes rushing to the surface immediately. I want to believe him, want to latch on to his apology and forget about everything else.

He leans into me and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. I want to feel him close to me, if only for a few minutes.

I let myself be swept away by the intensity of his touch. His lips move against mine with a tenderness that belies the storm of emotions swirling between us.

He stands up, then leans down to pick me up off the couch. He carries me into the bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He lays me on the bed gently, his eyes never leaving mine. I can see the sincerity in his gaze, a vulnerability that matches my own. As he hovers above me, I reach up to touch his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath my fingertips.

His lips brush against mine once more, a silent promise of everything he wants to convey but cannot put into words. In this moment, nothing else matters but the connection between us.

His mouth makes a trail down my neck before he pulls my shirt over my head. His hands go down to remove my pants next. He looks me up and down hungrily, taking in the my black lace bra and panties.

"You're so beautiful."

As he trails kisses down my body, every nerve ending sparks to life with anticipation.

His hands move with a reverence that speaks volumes, as though he is worshiping every inch of my skin. I arch into his touch, silently urging him to continue his exploration.

His mouth goes to the inside of my thighs.

I can feel the warmth radiating from his lips, a prelude to the fire that will soon engulf us both. His tongue darts out to tease the delicate skin there, sending a jolt of desire through me.

As his mouth moves higher, I gasp with pleasure, my hips lifting off the bed in reaction to his touch. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, tugging them down my legs slowly, drawing out the anticipation.

Finally, he removes them completely, setting them aside and leaving me exposed and vulnerable. I can feel the dampness between my legs.

His fingers, tongue, and mouth work in tandem as they explore every curve and contour, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I arch my back and moan, my hands fisting the sheets beneath me as I try to hold on to some semblance of control.

His lips find my most sensitive spot, his tongue swirling and dipping, sending sparks of pure ecstasy shooting through me. I writhe beneath him, my body responding to his touch in ways I didn"t think possible.

He slides his fingers inside me, pumping slowly as his tongue continues its relentless dance. I cry out in pleasure, my body bucking wildly against his skilled ministrations.

It"s then that he enters me, his body sliding into mine with a heat that consumes me. I gaze into his eyes, seeing the raw hunger and desire mirrored there.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, but gradually increasing in pace. His lips find mine once more, our tongues dancing in sync with our bodies.

He pounds into me, every thrust driving me wild with pleasure, my body responding to his with a ferocity I never knew I possessed.

My hands claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer, to immerse myself in the pleasure he"s bringing me.

"Brock, I need you," I breathe. "Please don't stop."

He increases his pace, driving deeper and harder, his hips grinding against me in a rhythm that"s both primal and exhilarating.

His breath is ragged.

can feel my orgasm building, a slow crescendo

I arch my back, my nails digging into his skin, my cries of ecstasy mingling with his.

The pleasure builds, a tidal wave of sensation washing over me, threatening to take me under. I grip his shoulders, my body tense, every muscle locked in anticipation.

And then, in that moment of pure bliss, the wave breaks, crashing over me with a force that leaves me breathless and shaking.

Brock collapses on top of me, his breath hot and ragged against my neck. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.

We lay there, our bodies still connected, our hearts beating in sync. For a moment, the world around us fades away, and it"s just us, wrapped up in each other"s embrace.

Slowly, he pulls away, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I want you and only you, Layla."

"Okay," I murmur.

I climb out of the bed and hurry to the bathroom.

"Layla."

"I don't know what I'm feeling right now, Brock. I'm so confused because I love you but I don't know what's real and what's not and…"

"You love me?"

I gasp, I hadn't realized I had said it. I scurry into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I slide down against the door and bury my face in my hands.

I hear Brock slide down the door on the other side.

"I love you. I've always loved you, from that first second, I saw you outside of the rink. I hate that everything has gotten so jacked up because of Tierney. I'll leave if you want me to. I'll face the camera crew and…"

"No," I say. "Please stay."

"Are you going to come out of the bathroom?"

I stand up and walk out. "I still don't know what I'm feeling so I'd rather you slept in the spare bedroom tonight. I don't… I don't want Breckin to get confused or ask questions."

"Okay, thank you."

"I'll text Eric and see if he can bring you clothes or something."

He nods. I can see that he's fighting the urge to pull me into him and I'm grateful that he's listening and respecting my boundaries.

I reach up and kiss him on the cheek. I grab clothes and go into the bathroom so I can get ready for bed.

If I don't get away from him I'm going to forget about everything and let him sleep in my bed tonight. I'm not ready for that.