Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Gray

I stood in front of Layla’s building and stared up at her bedroom window. The light was on, and I’d seen her shadow pass by a little while ago, so I knew she was home. I just didn’t have the balls to go in yet.

Layla had no idea I was coming. I’d spent the last forty-eight hours thinking of what I would say to her. If I told her I’d read her list and wanted to put her needs first, it would only make her feel bad. I knew her—she’d feel guilty that she wasn’t there to support me when I needed her. It was just the type of woman she was.

And I wasn’t strong enough to fight her if she said she wanted to stick it out. Because I wanted nothing more in this world than to fight tooth and nail for us.

So, I decided to absolve her of any guilt and let her think it’s what I really wanted. It would break my vow never to lie to her again, but she’d already wasted enough time on me—more than a year of Saturday trips, not moving on for a long time after she’d stopped visiting, and then the last few months. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her any more. Quick and over—that’s what it had to be. She’ll probably be pissed. But it’s easier to move on when you’re angry than when you have guilt over wanting different things than someone you care about.

I took a last look up at the window, tucked my own heart away, and headed for the door. I rang the buzzer and started to sweat, waiting for her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me. Sorry I didn’t call first.”

“Hey. That’s okay. Come on up.” The door buzzed, and the deadbolt unlocked.

I thought about changing my mind ten fucking times on the short elevator ride up. And then I hesitated before I stepped off.

Layla was waiting at the door to her apartment as I stepped off. “This is a nice surprise,” she said.

Say that again in ten minutes.

I found it difficult to speak and had to cough to clear my throat. “I need to talk to you.”

Her face turned to concern. “Is everything okay? Did Max…”

I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.”

She hesitated before opening the door and stepping aside. Normally, I’d grab her the minute I got close, wrap her in my arms, and plant my lips on hers. As much as I wanted that one last time, it would only make it worse.

“Is Ella okay? Where is she?”

“She’s fine. Sleeping. I asked Paula to work a few hours tonight instead of today so I could stop over.”

Layla wrapped her arms around my neck. “So this is a booty call then?”

Fuck. I wanted her booty, all right. My damn body reacted the minute she touched me. How the fuck was I going to get the words out when everything in me wanted her? I looked down.

Don’t be a pussy, Gray.

Get it done. Over with.

Put your wagging tongue away. They’ll be plenty of time to lick shit at home—like your wounds.

I took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked up into her eyes. God, she was gorgeous. So beautiful and full of everything that was good.

She pressed her breasts against me. I could feel her hard nipples through our shirts. “Cat got your tongue?”

I even fucking loved her sarcasm.

I put my hands on her arms and lifted them off of me. The look on her face was as if I’d physically slapped her. She took a cautious step back and folded her arms across her chest in a self-protective stance.

“What’s going on, Gray?”

“I have a lot on my plate right now.”

“I know you do.” Her voice had a touch of anger in it. She was always two steps ahead of her clients and knew how to read a situation better than anyone I’d ever met. The rest of the conversation we were about to have was a formality. She knew what was coming.

“Between the new business, dealing with Max, connecting with Ella—it’s just too much.”

“Well, it’s not like you can do anything about any of those. This is what you were dealt. You’ll deal with it.”

I looked away. “Yeah. I will. And that’s my point. I have a lot I need to take care of. So I won’t have much extra time. I had to shuffle around my day and work things out with the babysitter just to find the time to get here tonight.”

Her arms at her chest unfolded, and her hands went to her hips. Layla was pissed. “Spit it out, Gray.”

“I don’t have time for anything else. I need to end things between us.”

“My father had time for a wife and daughter and a side piece and bastard child. When you want something bad enough, you make time for it.”

Like a coward, I looked down. “I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t going to let me off that easy. “Look at me.”

I raised my head, but left my eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them.

“You don’t even want to try? I get that we won’t have much time for now. But things will settle down eventually.”

Her voice cracked a miniscule amount, but I caught it. Not thinking, I reached out to comfort her. She stepped back.

“Answer me.”

I looked her in the eyes and broke both our hearts. “No. I don’t even want to try.”

She looked back and forth between my eyes, searching for something. Then she walked to the door and opened it. “Get out.”

I walked toward the door and stopped in front of her. “Layla…I’m—”

She cut me off and pointed toward the hall. “Just get the hell out!”

The hardest steps I’ve ever had to take were walking out of her place. She’d given me a second chance when I hadn’t deserved it. There was no way I was ever getting a third. This was it.

My legs felt like lead taking the last few steps. I turned around for one last look at her, but I didn’t get a chance. She slammed the door in my face.

***

If anyone could cheer me up, it was my old bunkmate, Rip. It was the only thing I’d looked forward to since I’d walked out of Layla’s apartment four nights ago.

Paula had Ella. Max no longer had the tube down her throat and had improved so much the doctors were talking about releasing her in a few days, and Rip was about to be a free man. What more could I ask for today?

Layla, that’s what.

The guards greeted me like I was an old friend, instead of a former prisoner.

“Look at you, Pretty Boy.” Officer Kirkland whistled. “What’s that suit cost? More than I make in a month, I bet.”

“Pipe down, Kirkland.” I smiled. “You’re just jealous because I’ve been released. How much time you got left? Twenty, twenty-five years until you can retire?”

He shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”

“How’s Rip? He excited for today?”

“Must be. Heard he stayed awake for the entire morning news.”

From behind Kirkland, a door opened and O’Halloran, another decent guard, escorted Rip down the long hall.

O’Halloran raised his chin to me. “You keeping out of trouble, Westbrook?”

“I haven’t murdered my ex-wife yet. If I can manage that shit, I can keep outta this place.”

He smiled. “Take care of yourself. And Rip here, too.”

Rip shook hands with both guards and then opened his arms wide, with the hugest smile on his face. The moment was more emotional than any I’d had with my own father. We hugged it out with a lot of backslapping.

“How’s it going, old man?” I asked him. “Miss me?”

“Sure did. Guy that took your bunk snored like a banshee and is a damn slob.”

My smile felt good. “Not sure you get to complain about anyone’s sleeping habits there, Van Winkle.” I nodded toward the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here before they decide to keep one of us.”

***

Rip had me make three stops in the first hour of our drive back to the city. The first time he wanted McDonald’s for lunch, the second time he needed to use the bathroom, and the third time he wanted to hit Walmart to pick up a cell phone. I took him to a Verizon store instead.

While he perused the flip phones, I grabbed a salesperson and told him to set me up with the latest iPhone and add it to my monthly plan.

“Here you go. Happy freedom day.” I held out the bag.

Rip looked down at my offering. “What’s this?”

“It’s a cell phone—a real one.” I lifted my chin to the flip phones he’d been browsing. “Unlike those things.”

“I can’t afford that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s on me. Added it to my monthly bill. Once you’re on your feet again, you can take it back over.”

“I can’t take that from you. Those things are expensive. That had to be over a hundred bucks.”

I managed to contain my smirk. Try a grand. “It was on sale. Plus, I owe you.”

He took the bag. “What do you owe me for?”

“Three years of listening to my crap.”

“Your crap was more interesting than my crap. In fact, I don’t have any crap,” he laughed.

“Come on. Let’s get back on the road.”

There wasn’t much traffic, so we relaxed as we drove and shot the shit. It didn’t take long to catch up on Rip’s life. All he had left was his one daughter who lived in Seattle.

“How’s your lawyer lady doing?” he asked. “You tie that one up yet?”

My last letter to Rip had been a few days before everything went down with Ella and Max. Obviously, I had a ton to catch him up on. I didn’t really feel like talking about it, but there was no hiding from it when it was just the two of us in the car.

“That’s a long story,” I warned him.

He leaned back in his seat. “Got a few more hours to kill. Start at the beginning.”

So I did. Poor Rip spent the next hour shaking his head. He mostly stayed quiet, with a few “you got to be shittin’ me” responses thrown in—until I got to the part where I’d broken it off with Layla.

“I never told you why my Laura doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

Laura was Rip’s daughter. My eyes flashed to him and back to the road. “No. You never mentioned it.”

I knew the story about why he’d gotten sent to prison—how he’d wanted to help with his granddaughter’s medical bills, so he’d used his old-school printing shop to make fake Social Security cards. For a hundred dollars apiece, he’d cranked out more than a thousand phonies, all the while sending his daughter the cash anonymously. When he’d gotten arrested, his daughter had figured it out and stopped speaking to him. He’d never mentioned why, and I didn’t push.

“Sweet Daniella, God rest her soul, was sixteen when her heart started to fail. Eighteen when she became too critical to get out of bed anymore. She’d had a dozen surgeries since she was born, and they just couldn’t fix it. She needed a transplant. Most people think there’s one big waiting list for organs. There is, but there isn’t. You register with your transplant center. But you can register with more than one transplant center to try to increase your odds of getting an organ—it’s called multiple listing. But the insurance company only pays for one set of tests, and then there’s travel and hotels and everything that comes along with transporting a sick kid to a different facility. You need money.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah. Me neither. I knew my daughter wouldn’t take the money if she knew how I’d gotten it. So I sent it to her anonymously. Rich people do that sometimes. Hospitals call them medical angels.”

“Did she use the money?”

Rip looked down and shook his head. “Daniella had started to get real involved with her church group the last year of her life. And she’d made a lot of friends at the children’s hospital, kids who were also on organ lists. She didn’t want her mother to take the money because she thought money shouldn’t give one person an advantage over another. She had friends on the same list as she was who couldn’t afford to be on multiple lists. So my daughter wound up donating the money to the hospital’s uninsured children’s fund.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Laura had to go through losing Daniella alone while I was in prison for a crime I didn’t need to commit. She’ll come around eventually, I hope. But she’s mad that I didn’t communicate with her—never even asked how Daniella felt about being added to other lists. She says I just made the decision for her, as if I knew what she’d want.” He paused. “Sound familiar?”

I sighed. “I get your point. But it’s different. I’m trying to do what’s best for Layla.”

“And I was trying to do what was best for Daniella and Laura. But we don’t get to decide what’s best for other adults, son. They get to decide for themselves.”

I understood what he was saying. I really did. But sometimes people you love won’t do what’s best for them if it means hurting someone they care about.

“Let me ask you something. Would you do it all over again?”

“What? Get myself in trouble to save my granddaughter? Of course. I’d spend the rest of my life in that shithole you just picked me up from if it meant she could’ve lived longer. But…I’d talk to her before I did it this time. Maybe not tell her my plan, but I’d at least find out her wishes. Had I done that, I’d have saved us all a lot of heartache.”

We were quiet for a while after that. Rip stared out the window, lost in thought and no doubt enjoying his new freedom. I did what I’d been doing for a solid week—ruminated over my decision to end things with Layla.

When we got close to the city, Rip said, “I couldn’t get a space at the Y in Queens. They were filled up. So I got one at the Bronx Y. You can just drop me wherever you’re going. I’ll grab a train up to the Bronx.”

I’d almost forgotten that I hadn’t told Rip about the arrangements I’d made. “I got you a place.”

“Thanks. But I can’t stay with you. I need to get back on my feet. I have enough money to last me a month or two.”

“Wasn’t inviting you to stay with me,” I teased. “I got you your own place. In Queens. Bottom floor of a two-family house, not too far from where you used to live. First month is free. If you like the place, we can work it out so you do some work around the house and help the other tenant out here and there in exchange for rent.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

“You haven’t met the other tenant yet…”