Layla

I was that guy—the one who was rushed into the ER with a snake bite, who then had to pull his pants down and show the world his ass where the damned thing had bitten him.

Rockie made a sympathetic noise.

“I wouldn’t either, man. That’s not why I brought it up, though. My grandaddy got bitten on the ass by one, too. We were all out hunting, and he pulled his pants down to take a pee, not seeing the rattler on the rock behind him until it struck him.

“ I don’t even know if he realized he’d been bitten until the rattling noise registered and my brother yelled at him that he had a bleeding bite on his butt.” He pursed his lips as he leaned against the wall. “Mind you, he’d likely have realized once the burning started.”

I had so much to unpack in that story, but what I went with first was, “How did he not see the snake?”

“It’d been a late one the night before. When we go hunting, we celebrate the night before with some bourbon.”

Hurst’s lecture on guns and alcohol not mixing came to my mind.

“Do you enjoy hunting?” It was a genuine question.

I had quite a few friends who took part in it with their families out of tradition or obligation, and they hated every second of it. Some felt bad for the animals, and some hated having to stay still. Others hated how seriously people took it, covering themselves in the scent of deer piss and shit. It was a personal thing, one that I just couldn’t ever see myself doing.

“Eh, I can take it or leave it. It’s nice to spend time with my family, but I prefer the comforts of home or a hotel room. Sleeping on the ground doesn’t do my joints any good.”

“I hate camping,” Layla sighed. “With four brothers and a shit ton of male cousins, I just had to put up with it.” She lifted her head and frowned at Rockie. “Hey, how do you shoot with your nails that long? Don’t they get in the way?”

I looked down at his nails and blinked, trying to picture the long talons being able to shoot a rifle, let alone a gun.

“Practice. Everything is doable if you practice at it.”

“You go hunting with your nails that long? Dude, I’m impressed.”

Rockie smiled at me. “These aren’t fake, they’re all mine, so unless I want to go through the inconvenience of growing them out again, I hunt with them like this. But I paint them camo, I’m not a complete idiot.”

I burst out laughing at the same time as Layla.

“Tony once did camouflage makeup on our faces with that eyeshadow that doesn’t come off. Some of it had a shimmer to it, but I reckon we tested its endurance to the max. That was the same night he got shot in the ass,” she told him. “No way does that compare to camo nails, though.”

“I hate that stuff. I made the mistake of getting some when I heard all the hype and figured it’d be great with hot lights on stage or for photoshoots until I had to do a quick makeup change when I swapped outfits, and the fucking stuff wouldn’t come off. Now, I go with the mantra that, so long as my foundation doesn’t melt off and my mascara doesn’t make me a raccoon, I’m good.”

Before I could say anything to Rockie’s makeup tricks—not that I had much to say, given that I didn’t wear the stuff—my radio went off, and Reid appeared in the doorway.

“We gotta go. RTA on the road into town.”

Carefully, I angled Layla’s head to see the bump on it. “I’ll pick up some Arnica cream and ice packs on my way home, pretty girl. You take it easy, and if you need anything, shoot me a text.”

She smiled softly at me and ignored the sigh coming from Rockie. “Okay. Stay safe.”

As I said goodbye to the rest of the salon and Rockie and jogged out to the Charger, I saved a reminder in my phone to pick up those two crucial things.

“Hey,” Reid said as we drove toward the scene. “What exactly is going on between y’all? One minute she won’t even look at you, and the next, you’re telling her family you got married years ago, and they’re trying to kill you. Then you arrest her brother, and she’s forgiven you? That’s some complicated shit.”

“She hasn’t forgiven me.” I wished that were true, but she definitely hadn’t. “I think she’s taking a different approach to thinking about what happened four years ago and is working her way through it. We still have a lot to discuss and to make peace with for her to have forgiven me.”

“And have you forgiven her?”

That was a great question. “I got over my anger years ago, but it’s mainly hurt that I still feel. Once we’ve discussed it, I’m sure it’ll get easier with time.”

He was silent as he maneuvered around cars that were too dumb to move out of the way when they heard the siren. “But you bought that big house. What if it doesn’t work out between you guys?”

I’d thought about this at the time, but there was only one answer. “Us not working things out is never going to happen. I’ve spent most of my life being in love with Layla. Her going away helped me grow up and find myself, but that doesn’t mean that the version of who I am today doesn’t include her.”

Reid hummed. “I hate to put this out there, but do you think maybe it’s a case of you being ‘used’ to her? Like, you’re so used to telling yourself you’re in love with her that you can’t move on?”