Layla

Layla is shaking her head but doesn’t say anything. She’s staring at her empty plate of food. She stands up and backs away from the table—a look of sheer terror on her face.

“Get her some water,” I say to Aspen as I stand up. I walk over to Layla, and her back is flat against the wall now, her body trembling. She breathes in and then out very slowly, but still hasn’t taken her eyes off the table.

I place a gentle hand on her cheek and pull her gaze to mine. “Layla, are you okay?”

She nods, but her hands are shaking as she grasps for the glass of water Aspen brings her. She downs it all and then almost drops the glass as she hands it back.

“I don’t feel well,” she says, turning to exit the kitchen.

I follow her up the stairs, and as soon as she gets to our room, she goes straight to the dresser and fumbles with her bottle of pills. Her hands are unsteady, and she spills some of the pills when she gets the lid open.

I bend down and pick them up, then take the bottle from her and put the stray pills back inside. She’s crawling into the bed when I close the dresser drawer.

I sit down next to her, and she’s curled into a fetal position in the center of the mattress. I pull the covers over her, running my hand soothingly through her hair. “What happened down there?”

She shakes her head, dismissing my question. “Nothing. I just don’t feel good.”

“You think you ate too fast?” I suggest.

She rolls over and pulls the covers up to her chin. “I didn’t eat,” she says. Her words come out clipped—full of anger and confusion. I want to ask her what she means by that, but part of me already knows.

She’s having blackouts. Silent seizures, maybe? She’s had one before—in the hospital. But it was just the one, so they decided not to put her on medication for it. I should call her neurologist tomorrow.

I turn off the lamp beside the bed and then kiss her. “I’ll come check on you soon.”

She nods and then pulls the covers over her head.

She’s been sleeping a lot. More than usual. Coupled with the blackouts and the strange behavior—I really do think she needs to see a neurologist.

But I’m also afraid it has nothing to do with her head injury.

I sit by her side for a few minutes, hesitant to go back downstairs. Part of me doesn’t want to leave her alone, but I need to go clean up the kitchen.

The wheels are turning in my mind as I make my way downstairs.

Aspen is in the process of loading the dishwasher when I rejoin them. Chad has face-planted on the table, a glass of some kind of liquor in his hand. He isn’t fully passed out because he’s muttering something unintelligible.

“She okay?” Aspen asks.

I don’t even try to cover for Layla because I’m confused and full of questions. “I don’t know. She says her head hurts.”

“I’m sure she’ll have migraines the rest of her life,” Aspen says. “Side effect of getting shot in the head, unfortunately.”

Aspen would know. She is a nurse, after all. I’m sure she’s seen a lot worse recoveries than what Layla is going through.

Aspen puts the last plate in the dishwasher. “I need to get Chad upstairs. Can you help me?”

I shake Chad until he opens his eyes, and then I pull on his arm and say, “Let’s go to bed, buddy.”

He groans. “I don’t want to go to bed with you, Leeds.” He tries to push me away from him, but I wrap his arm over my shoulders.

“I’m taking you to your wife’s bed.”

He stops pushing me away at that comment. He lifts his head and looks around the room until he finds Aspen on the other side of him. “Am I too drunk to fuck?”

Aspen nods. “Yeah, babe. Way too drunk. Maybe tomorrow.”

He drops his head like he’s disappointed in himself, but we get him out of the chair and to a standing position. He mopes the entire time we help him up to his room. Once we’ve got him tucked into the bed, Aspen walks me to the bedroom door. “We’ll probably be on the road before you wake up. If I don’t see Layla, tell her we had fun.”

“It wasn’t that fun,” I say with a laugh.

Aspen shrugs. “Yeah, I’m trying to be nice. Maybe we can stop back by before you guys leave. It’s not too far from Wichita.”

I tell her good night and leave the room, then check on Layla. I don’t know if she’s asleep yet, but she still has the covers pulled over her head. I leave the door to our bedroom open because I want to be able to hear her if she calls for me. I go downstairs to the Grand Room and take my phone out, then take a seat on the couch.