Layla

His cheeks went pink, and he shuffled slightly. “And maybe Layla’s a bit sensitive to the strong drugs, and we didn’t know it.” Glaring at his dad, he muttered, “And he’s all freaked out because she’s scary as fuck right now.”

Aaaand wasn’t that just fucking peachy.

“Why didn’t she just take the Tylenol and ibuprofen I got for her or the kids’ stuff your mom dropped off on Sunday?”

He gave me a tired look. “She finished the kids’ shit, and I accidentally knocked the other stuff into the toilet.”

I blinked. “And no one out of all of the family members you have close has normal meds you could have given her? None of you keep a stock of it just in case you need it?”

He winced. “More than likely, but I knew Gramps was home, so I called him and specifically asked for normal stuff because she was about to start crying and needed it ASAP. He said what he brought was the normal stuff, but now we know it isn’t.”

“I’m hungreeeee!” Layla sang from under the couch.

Her voice was still raw sounding, but she managed to hit the higher notes without sounding too much like a pubescent boy, which gave me hope.

“Ah, shit!” Hurst groaned, taking a step toward the door again.

“You leave this house, old man, and I swear I’ll find your most embarrassing secret and air it for the world,” Cole threatened.

Jack had finally snapped out of his stupor and was glaring at his dad now. “I won’t protect you from any of it or from Colette and Mom.”

I leaned into Cole’s side and whispered, “Why does he need protecting from them?”

“They were planning to surprise Layla for her birthday, but that’s been canceled because she’s out of her damn mind. They’re also pissed he gave her prescription meds without even looking them up first.”

Fair enough.

The couch flipped up, surprising all of us, and then Layla rolled out from under it, only narrowly missing having her leg crushed when it dropped back down to the floor with a bang.

She was wearing a pair of SpongeBob pajamas, one matching sock, and had half of her hair up in a ponytail at the very top of her head.

“I’m Batman,” she rasped, looking around like someone was going to jump out.

“Hey, baby,” I said softly as I went over to where I’d dropped everything when I’d first come in. “I brought you some things for your birthday.”

“Carrots?”

“No, there aren’t any of those in here, but I can get you one from the kitchen.”

“Make sure you have an umbrella,” Hurst muttered loud enough for me to hear.

I held out the bunch of sunflowers—Layla’s favorite flower—for her. Instead of taking them from me, she opened her mouth and leaned in close to them, almost taking a bite out of one before I pulled them away.

“You can’t eat them, pretty girl. Tell you what, why don’t I put you in bed, and you can open your presents later after you’ve had a nap?”

Holding her arm in the air, she let out what was meant to be a shriek, but with how sore her throat was, it was only high-pitched squeaks here and there that made us all wince.

“Layla, just—”

She turned around to run, just as Hurst yelled, “Catch her!”

“I’m Batman!”

I managed to grab her just as she flew past me and picked her up.

“I’m going to go and put her to bed to sleep this off.”

“I’ll go and get her some proper painkillers from the store,” Cole said, walking quickly over to the door.