Breaking Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 4)

“Stop,” I mumble uncomfortably.

“I’m serious. Everyone is noticing it. Heck, Grunt says he’s barely stuttering around the men in the club lately and they all know you’re the reason why he’s feeling so relaxed. He says your daddy is alternating between being happy for you and wanting to deck Thomas and erase the smile off his face.”

“Oh, God. Everybody?” I hiss, feeling exposed.

“Hey! What’s wrong? I didn’t say anything to make you feel bad, Lyla. We’re happy because we care about you and I’m extra happy because Thomas deserves good in his life and you are that.”

“You mean I’m a fool.”

“Okay, that’s it. Spill the beans, girl. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” I respond.

I know Jazz is being nice, but I haven’t really had friends that I feel comfortable baring my soul to. Jazz probably wouldn’t be a good choice to do that with anyhow. She’s Gabby’s best friend. That fact is something I’m always conscious of—which is another reason this whole baby shower feels like a bad idea.

“C’mon, Lyla. I know I’m new here, but us girls need to stick together, and I’d really like for us to be close. I really like you.”

“I like you, too, Jazz. I promise.”

“So, spill,” she says, and I sigh, shaking my head.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Because it involves Gabby?” she guesses.

I grimace. “Yeah.”

“Listen, Gabby is my friend and I love her, but she has issues, especially when it comes to guys. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses for her, but in my heart, I think it boils down to Dom not stepping up and being the man that she needed—”

“Jazz—”

“Still—with that being said—what she did was wrong. You don’t play with someone’s heart, and you don’t try to come between brothers. She never told me everything that happened, or I would have called her out on her shit earlier. When I found out, I read her the riot act.”

“Did it do any good?”

“I’d like to say that it did, but the truth is, I think Gabby is desperate to have Dom. I’m not sure she’s ready to listen to reason,” she mutters, clearly upset. “I mean, part of me kind of understands. I love Grunt desperately. It would kill me if he pulled away and didn’t feel the same about me.”

“You wouldn’t play games with Grunt,” I answer quickly. “No more than I would to make Thomas mine.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. I know how painful it is to have someone play games with your heart. I’d never do that. Gabby doesn’t realize that her games have already cost her Dom. She can’t see past her own unhappiness to realize what she’s done to hurt others.”

“Like Thomas.”

“Like you and Thomas.”

“No offense, I know she’s your friend, but I think she’s a selfish cow,” I snap under my breath.

Jazz laughs. “No offense taken. Gabby has bought her ticket, Lyla. The sad thing is, I don’t think she sees everything she threw away.”

“But did she?” I whisper.

“What does that mean?”

“You said she already ruined her chances with Dom. Once she discovers that, what’s to stop her from laying claim to Thomas again?”

“Honey, did you not hear what I’ve been saying? Thomas is happy and it’s all because of you.”

“Not really. He loves the baby. I’m just,” I shrug, “I’m his second choice.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Ut oh,” Jazz whispers, patting my hand.

I force myself to look at the doorway where Grunt and Thomas are standing. Grunt moves away as Jazz gets up to go to him. I watch as she walks into his arms, and they smile at one another. I keep watching, simply because I can’t bring myself to look at Thomas.

“Lyla.”

He’s pissed. I can hear it in his voice. The room is silent, but there’s a heaviness in the air that hits me and it’s all coming from Thomas’s anger. I look away from Jazz and instead look at my hands that are in my lap.

“Lyla, l-look at me,” Thomas orders.

When I look back up, Jazz and Grunt are sneaking out, the door closing behind them. I can’t blame them. I wish I was with them.

“Lyla,” Thomas all but growls.

I swallow nervously and finally work up my courage to look at him.

“You’re back early.”

“That’s all you have t-t-t-to say to m-m-me.”

I wince. He has stuttered very little the last couple days. The fact he is heavily stuttering right now doesn’t bode well for me. I know it has to do more with the fact that he’s mad—not nervous.

“There’s nothing more to say,” I murmur, standing up. I walk into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering pizza.”

“How weak do you think I am?”

His question shocks me and I turn to look at him against my own will. My forehead furrows in confusion. “I don’t think you’re weak. Why would you ask me that?” I gasp.