I DON'T FEEL WELL

ARNOLD

At the buttcrack of dawn, I’m driving my hungover ass up the winding mountain road back to my place. I’m groggy. My head feels cloudy. And my mouth tastes like a dead animal.

Last night, after Layla disappeared from the bar, I was tempted to follow her straight out the door and call it a night myself.

But Karli and my brothers had other plans for my birthday party, lining the bar up with shots and upping the peer pressure.I had a few drinks and ended up crashing in one of Darius’s many spare bedrooms.

Now, I’m cursing myself for drinking on a weeknight. As everyone was happy to remind me last night, I’m no spring chicken anymore. I can’t party all night and still function like a human the next morning.

But I also have bills and other financial responsibilities. So here I am, driving home to change out of yesterday’s clothes and get ready for work.

To add to my early morning punishment, I’m currently on the phone with my mom—damn the time difference with Europe—and she’s going on and on about a Polish girl she thinks I would just ‘absolutely love’.

I roll down my window, needing the fresh air. “Mom, it’s too early for this. It may be mid-afternoon over there, but I still haven’t had my morning coffee,” I say as politely as I can manage.

I know I won’t get any son of the year awards—that belongs to Felix—but I still try to be a decent one.

She laughs dryly. “You always have some excuse. Anything to avoid discussing your lack of a dating life.”

I scrub a palm over my pounding forehead. “Mom. I’ve told you. I’m going on dates just fine on my own. I don’t need you to find me strangers who live three thousand miles away.”

She scoffs through the phone. “Well, I’ll just have to see that in order to believe it.”

I groan as she carries on and on. But I’m barely listening to her, as she rambles on about the pretty Polish girl from the bakery she frequents. Or was it the yoga studio across from the bakery? I don’t really know.

To be honest, I’m only thinking about Layla right now. She’s been on my mind since last night. I can’t get over what it was like to dance with her. What it was like to finally have her in my arms. How good she smelled. How beautiful she looked.

And how much I regret watching her run away from the bar like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight.

I roll down our street now, drawing closer to Layla’s small cottage, which is only a few houses down from my place. I can’t help but glance in that direction.

But my foot slips off the pedal when I catch sight of her.

I hadn’t been expecting to see Layla this early in the morning. I especially wasn’t expecting to see her standing outside, barefoot on her front porch, holding Sky on her hip and crying as her ex-boyfriend looms between her and the front door.

Every hair on the back of my neck rises. Razor seems to be blocking her from getting inside.

What the hell?

I immediately slide my foot onto the brake, slowing down for a better look into Layla’s yard. The bad feeling in my gut grows when I notice her own vehicle sitting crooked on the snow-covered lawn. I’m quickly beginning to realize that her running off last night has something to do with whatever is going on right now.

And it can’t be good.

“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I end the call and park at the end of the short driveway, jumping out of my truck and not bothering to shut the door.Without hesitation, I’m stalking across Layla’s front yard.

“Look at you!” I hear Razor yelling. “You’re all used up! You’ve let yourself go. No man will ever want you! I’m the only man who’s willing to put up with your shit.”

I see red when Razor reaches out toward Layla, and she takes a hurried step backward, wobbling on the edge of the landing.

“Touch her,” I growl, now at the bottom step of the porch. “Do it. I fucking dare you!”

Razor freezes, his eyes swinging my way.Layla’s neck snaps in my direction, too.

“What’s going on here?” I demand, my hands fisting at my sides.

Razor snorts. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Brighton.”

“Well, if it involves Layla and Sky, then it’s automatically something I’m going to concern myself with.”

“What are you? Her fucking bodyguard?” he shouts, his voice rising to new levels as he waves his hands hysterically.“They’re mine! My family! Mine!”

I grind my heel into the snow-covered gravel, frustrated that Layla has to deal with this trash. And so early in the morning, too. I look in her direction, noting her red-rimmed eyes and dark circles. I bet neither she, nor Sky were able to get much sleep last night. Fury rips through me. I hate the worry and fear I see on her face.

I’d really like to snap her ex-boyfriend in two.

“Do you even know what family means?” My voice booms. “You’ve been gone for months, Razor.”

He puffs out his bony, bare chest. “Yeah, well, now I’m back.”

“Too late, buddy. She’s been good on her own without you.”

Layla steps between us, turning in my direction. “Razor wants Sky and me to…go,” she says quietly.

“Go?” I repeat. “Go…where?”

“This is my house,” Razor interrupts. “My grandma gave it to me to raise my family. And if Layla doesn’t want to be ‘wifely’ with me, then she’s gotta leave!”

My lip curls at the idea.“Funny that you want wifely duties when you’ve never been her husband,” I bite back.

Razor laughs. “Whatever. Marriage is just a piece of paper. And if Layla wants me to consider marrying her, she could start by showing me that she’s happy I’m back.”

The suggestive look he sends Layla makes my stomach turn.

I can’t believe that piece of work expects Layla to sleep with his grimy ass. The whole town knows that Razor has been with his trashy ex-girlfriend all these months. It's pathetic.He’spathetic.

I stalk forward, not stopping until I’m all up in his face. I growl loud enough to make the porch rumble. “Move.Now.”

Razor tips his chin upward, trying to look tough. But I see the quiver in his eyebrows as I loom six inches taller than him. We remain in a stand off until I feel Layla’s soft hand landing on my arm. Her touch instantly weakens me.

“No, no. He’s right, Arnold. I should go,” she says.

I frown, not wanting her to back down to this asshole. “He can’t kick you out. You have rights.”

I’m no lawyer, and I have no idea if that’s true. But I’m ready and willing to take the law into my own hands to protect Layla and Sky.

She shakes her head, her eyes pleading with me as she holds my stare. “Iwantto go. I just need to get my stuff. And Sky’s.”

I take a ragged breath, my attention bouncing from Layla to Razor and back again. “Are you sure?” I ask her.

She nods. “I don’t want to live with all the drama and him showing up unannounced. It’s not worth it.”

Considering her words, I give her a single nod back.

Then I turn my eyes to Razor. “You heard her.Move.”

His face scrunches up, somehow looking even uglier than usual. “You don’t have a right—”

I take another step forward, bumping into his chest. “Get out of the way before I fucking demolish you right here on this doorstep.”

He pales slightly, reluctantly stepping out of the way.

Layla hands Sky to me and disappears inside the house. I hold onto the squirmy twenty-three-month-old, pulling my fur-lined bomber jacket around him as he buries his face in my shirt. He lets out a quiet whimper, gripping onto my shirt, as though he feels safe in my arms.

I gently pat Sky’s back. Razor glowers my way.

That’s when he loses his shit. Again.

“Hey! That's my son! He should be hugging me!” He lunges toward us, but I take a careful step to the side, avoiding Razor’s sluggish moves.

I shake my head as he stumbles around. “Shut your gingivitis-infected gums. ’Cause this kid sure as heck doesn’t know who you even are.”

That pleasant little reminder seems to do the trick. Razor closes his trap, and remains silent and seething the rest of the time. But he doesn’t stop glaring at me, as I pace the porch with Sky in my arms.

We remain outside like that until Layla emerges with a few hastily packed bags.

“Got everything you need?” I ask, turning in her direction.

“I think so,” she whispers.

I follow her off the porch, ignoring Razor’s eyes on our backs. Then I slide Sky into her arms and grab her bags so I can shove everything into the back of my truck. Just feet away, in her own car, Layla is wordlessly strapping the toddler into his car seat.

Before I climb into my truck, I pause and meet her gaze. “We’re going to my place,” I tell her.

She gives me a shaky nod, before she pulls her beat-up car out of her driveway. I wait until she’s safely reversed onto the street, before I follow her up the road to my house, leaving Razor behind in our dust.