“I can’t believe I hurt him like that,” I whisper, disgusted with myself. I’m not even talking completely physically. I know I hurt him in other ways, too. He’s hurt me worse and there’s a part of me that’s mad at myself for feeling sympathy for Thomas.
I can’t help it though.
“You were mad.”
“Yeah. I still am. I don’t think it’s something I can get over and Thomas thinks I should be able to.”
“Women tend to lead with their heart, with men, things are more black and white.”
“I guess so. I don’t want him staying here in this house, Daddy.”
“Butterfly. You claimed him as your old man. You understand what that means.”
“I did it so you wouldn’t kill him. I didn’t fool you, you knew that.”
“I did. You know what else I realized?” he asks.
“What?”
“That you care about him, even if you don’t want to, and that’s why he’s here. I can send him away, baby. You give me the word and I won’t hesitate.”
“But?” I question, because I hear one coming from him. It’s in his voice.
“If I do that, you need to ask yourself if you can handle the fact that you are going to see him for the rest of your life without having any claim to him. You’re going to have a baby and I may not like T-Boy or his family, but I can tell he’s a good man and I happen to think he does have feelings for you.”
“He looks at me and sees the woman he’s in love with and can’t have. He doesn’t see me, Dad,” I argue.
“Then make him see you, Lyla, if that’s what you want. You just have to ask yourself what it is you want.”
“He doesn’t need to stay in my room,” I grumble, my brain too confused to deal with this stuff tonight.
“Well, actually, that’s me.”
“You what?”
“Baby, someone shot up the house. There’s no way a stranger can get through my security. That means there’s someone within my club out to hurt me and the biggest way to do that is through you. I’m not sure who it is, but until I find out, I want people I trust near you at all times.”
“You trust Thomas?”
“I trust that whatever else the asshole’s faults are, he cares about you and the baby. That means if someone tries to break in the house at night, he’d risk everything to stop them from getting to you. I need that, and right now, I need you to be careful.”
“Can’t he sleep outside in the hallway?” I plead.
“There are windows and we moved you to the ground floor as an extra precaution. I have sentries outside, but I can’t put a lot of faith in anyone but a couple of men and at the moment, that includes the fuckup my daughter cares about.”
“Great,” I sigh out, feeling defeated.
Dad puts his arm around me, and I lean against him, wondering what in the world I’m going to do about Thomas and how I’m going to keep him from seeing how much he hurt me and how much I foolishly still love him.
Chapter 15
Thomas
I walk into the bedroom, not quite sure to expect. I hope Lyla isn’t going to give me more shit. I’m not up to it tonight. I held ice on my eye for a bit. Then I scanned the perimeter. My eye hurts like a son of a bitch. It’s been two hours and the swelling isn’t as bad as it could have been. There’re some cuts because the wings on that damn thing were sharp as hell. Bruising is there, too, but it doesn’t hurt half as much as just being me right now does. I’m so fucking tired of existing. Everything I touch seems to fall apart. I know I deserve Lyla’s wrath, but she was my safe place and fuck, I miss that.
I just miss her.
Not that she would believe me even if I told her. Dad says King wants Lyla. Hell, any man would. The thought of her being happy and moving on without me is what I thought I would want—at least before she found out about Gabby and everything went to hell. Now, I can admit, it’s the last thing I want.
Lyla is carrying my baby. She has feelings for me—they might be mostly hate now, but she loved me once. Surely, I can find a way to rekindle that? I may not be the man she thought I was, but I could be a good man for her. I could make her happy—maybe even happy enough that she stops regretting meeting me.
Lyla’s bedroom reminds me of my sister’s—when Kayden was like fourteen. There’s white furniture and so much hot pink that I lose testosterone every time I enter. Her comforter is a mixture of zebra stripes and hot pink fur. It could make a man dizzy if he stared at it long enough.