Chapter 24
Layla
“Close but no cigar,” I manage to say with my tongue as thick and dry as cotton in my mouth when my vision clears enough to see it’s the wrong Berenson brother sitting in a chair beside me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The joke doesn’t earn me so much as a twitch of Elliott’s lips, mostly hidden by his bushy silver beard and mustache. “Come on, that was funny.” I try to smile, my lips stinging when they crack, tears rushing in when I remember why Russell isn’t here.
Violet’s chin trembles when she carefully bends to kiss my cheek. “We were so worried about you.”
“Why?” When Dolly, Goldie, Faye, and Cora crowd me in a circle and stare, all silent and weary, I finally notice the too-bright, harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beeping. The mattress I’m lying on isn’t nearly as plush or comfortable as my bed at home. I squeeze my eyes shut with a groan, sleepy but growing more alert than I was earlier. “I told y’all it was just my period. You didn’t need to take me to the hospital. I feel fine. ”
“Yes, we did. You were throwing up blood,” Cora says, a tear falling from the corner of her eye. “Scared the bejesus out of me and Big T.”
Faye adds, “And the only reason you feel ‘fine’ is because you’re all drugged up after surgery. Doubt you can feel much at all, thank god.”
“Surgery?” My eyes cut to Goldie, who nods.
“I think they called it ‘endoscopic therapy’,” Goldie says slowly, as if she’s unsure of the term, “for the tear in your stomach lining, either from throwing up too much, the insane amount of pain pills you were taking, or both. But the good news is—”
“You got your laparoscopic surgery,” Dolly finishes with a rush, the first thing anyone’s said to draw a genuine smile out of me. It immediately falls, though, when she says, “The endometriosis is pretty severe. The doc said yours isn’t the worst case she’s seen but that you would’ve ended up staying overnight anyway if they had tried to do it outpatient.”
The hand not hooked up to an IV travels to my stomach, where a small bandage covers an area close to my belly button beneath my thin hospital gown. “I finally got my surgery. This means…it means…”
I hold my stomach when it spasms from crying so hard at the thought that not only do I have an official diagnosis after years of my pain not being taken seriously, but also what this surgery will afford me. Less pain, less reliance on meds each month, potentially increased fertility, and hopefully, no more sobbing on the floor and throwing up.
When I start coughing, choking on my tears, Elliott passes a large plastic hospital tumbler of water to Violet, who holds the straw to my lips so I can sip from it .
“It’s life-changing,” I croak with growing hope for the future. Expensive , considering I’m not on Russell’s insurance plan yet, but it’s hard to even begrudge that because it’ll be worth it. “Has anyone told Russell?”
“He knows,” Elliott says with a serious nod. “He’d be here if he could.”
“Fuck.” I burst into tears all over again, surprising Dolly and Goldie with my curse, but it’s warranted in this situation. After taking a larger gulp of water, I ask Elliott, “Will he get out on bail?” Without waiting for his answer, I grip Violet’s hand, wildly desperate. “I want you to plan the wedding. It’ll have to be quick before his trial. Quicker than Goldie and Davis’s wedding. Also, you’re my Matron of Honor. All of you are,” I say, swinging my gaze around at the women who are more than simply my friends. I reach for Cora’s hand next, wincing when the IV pinches my other wrist. “You, too, Cora.”
“Hey! You can’t just—” a woman yells, cut off when there’s a crash from outside the room in the corridor, something large being dragged across the walls.
“Damnit, Dad! You’re going to bust your stitches wide open and bleed out all over again!”
“Then get these dang cuffs off me!”
A grin splits Elliott’s face—the kind I’ve never seen before.
“Son of a biscuit!” Russell yells with one hand cuffed to the railing of a hospital bed that he’s trying to swing straight so he can pull it behind him into my room. He looks both like a knight in shining armor and death warmed over with his pale pallor, too-small hospital gown, disheveled hair, and thick bandages wrapped from fingers to forearms—one of which looks to be bleeding after an IV was ripped out.
“It was for your own damn good!” Sheriff Gibson climbs unceremoniously onto the bed so he can reach Russell and uncuff him with a key. “You’re supposed to be resting and recovering.”
“Fudge that,” Russell snaps, trying to slam the soft-close door shut before slipping between Violet and Faye, grabbing my face, and crushing my lips beneath his.
I tear the IV from my wrist, throw it to the side, and tangle my fingers in Russell’s hair, trying to pull him onto the bed. “You’re here,” I say between kisses. “How are you here?”
With one knee on the bed, he says, “As if anything could stop me from getting to you.”
“Jesus, you know you’re mooning everyone, too, right?” Davis says from behind Russell, though I only have eyes for my man.
“Everyone get out, or you’re fired,” Russell grits, pushing a hand beneath my head to grip my neck, slanting his mouth back over mine. “Twenty-nine days, darlin’.”
“You know she can’t have sex yet,” Wyatt grumbles before I can ask Russell what he means, and I finally pull my eyes away to see Wyatt stepping around the hospital bed that the staff have finally unembedded from the walls. He looks ready to lift Russell off of me himself.
I clutch Russell’s shoulders and gingerly shift to the side, encouraging him to finish climbing onto my bed, though there’s hardly room for him at his size.
“‘Course I know that,” Russell says loudly over his shoulder, truly offended. “You’re fired for thinking I’d ever hurt my darlin’.”
“No, I’m not.” Wyatt winks, hooking his arm around Dolly, who’s staring up at the ceiling, as is most everyone else.
“Geez, boss, your butt is whiter than mine,” Trace says with a laugh, carrying Gauge inside.
Harold chuckles, following him into the room with Jared. “No, it’s not. Everyone at Granny’s can attest to that.”
“Y’all stop looking at my husband’s butt, or I’ll fire you myself,” I pout, earning a gruff laugh from Elliott as I help pull my hospital blanket up over Russell’s lower half so he can stop flashing his thick backside.
It’s getting crowded in here as everyone stands shoulder to shoulder to make room for Deputies Cooke and Green, Paul, Renee, and Francisco, not to mention all the hospital staff whose attention we’ve drawn.
Gibson is the last to enter, yawning and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Everyone except family, Green, and Cooke need to leave.”
Crickets .
“Fine,” he says with exasperation. “Everyone who’s not blood family needs to leave.” He mutters a curse when no one moves, and he motions for Elliott to please vacate the chair so he can sit, kicking his boots up onto my mattress and crossing his ankles. “Y’all put me through the wringer. Gonna force me into early retirement with all the trouble you give me and this town.”
“Early,” Dolly says sarcastically with finger quotes and a giggle.
Gibson drops his cowboy hat on his thigh and hangs his head back on the chair. “And you’re damn lucky Allen was spotted on the other side of the border in Mexico.”
“He’s alive?” I ask with a gasp, attempting to sit up. Russell’s whole body goes stock still. Wyatt and Davis exchange an indiscernible look, which they then cut to Elliott, who looks grumpy but otherwise as expressionless as usual .
Gibson raises a brow. “Does that surprise you?”
“Um, no?” I roll and bite my lips, scooting down and pressing my face into Russell’s side. “Crap.”
“Surprises me, too,” Russell murmurs so low that only I can hear, pressing a kiss to my crown.
Shaking his head, Gibson slouches lower on his chair. “As I was saying, you got lucky, Russell. Even luckier that Allen disappeared before we could get our hands on him on this side of the border. Though, technically, he’s free to travel whenever he wants, even if he quote-unquote voluntarily resigned in the middle of the night under rather suspicious circumstances.”
Sheriff plops his cowboy hat over his face. “Now, if y’all don’t mind, I need my own rest and recovery. And while I do that, get your stories straight in case any of my higher-ups start questioning why Allen felt the need to cross the border illegally and was still wearing his uniform, covered head to toe in dirt, with literal piss and shit running down the back of his pants like it’d been scared out of him.”
This time, Elliott can’t help the tiniest twitch of his lips that I would have missed if I weren’t looking directly at him. Deputy Green doesn’t miss it either, going rather green himself in the face, shivering as if he’s got the heebie-jeebies when he and Elliott make eye contact.
Cooke rolls her eyes, though she rests her hand on her holstered service weapon and takes a half-step in front of Green. It’s cute how they scuffle when Green tries to take a protective step in front of her, but Cooke won’t let him.
Sheriff pushes his brim up enough to ask Elliott shrewdly, “I don’t need to worry about you and a hitchhiker or waitress giving me trouble next, do I? ”
It’s as if Elliott’s mental walls have become visible, slamming shut over his face, his answer a silent yet resounding no .
“Good.” Five seconds later, Sheriff is snoring louder than a bullhorn, sleeping through the two nurses who are actually able to force everyone except Russell out of my room so my surgeon and I can talk privately, my future growing impossibly brighter by the minute.
* * *
Russell
After another overnight stay, Violet hands me the forms I requested when I excuse myself to meet up with her in a side hallway. “This only works if you can slip them in with her discharge papers to sign.”
I’m pleased as punch when I step back into Layla’s hospital room, more than ready to get my woman alone at home. Dolly winks when she sees I have the papers, and she distracts the discharge nurse by pulling him into a conversation long enough for me to slip the marriage license forms in the middle of the stack of documents.
Once Layla has signed everything, flipping through each sheet of paper without reading them, I give Faye a nod. It’s her turn to distract the nurse while I thumb through the documents behind the nurse’s back, finding the ones I need with my heart tripping over itself with longing.
I subtly pass the forms to Violet, who’s waiting on the other side of the door. “Tell Carolina I said thanks. ”
“Will do. Twenty-eight days,” Violet says with a twinkle in her eye.
* * *
“Three days, darlin’,” I whisper so as not to wake Layla, lifting the comforter to get into bed once I finish my call with Violet, working on some last-minute details long after Layla fell asleep on her stomach, one knee hiked up high on the mattress. She’s wearing one of her new white cotton nightgowns, clutching her fat, two-foot-long grizzly teddy bear like a body pillow, which I gave to her to replace the white one we burned in the fire pit at Dolly and Wyatt’s house. She cried, I cried. Dolly cried, of course. It was cathartic.
Getting comfortable and slipping my hand up the back of Layla’s thigh, which has thickened deliciously over the past few weeks now that she’s no longer working herself to death, my blood heats when I find her hip naked, her bottom bare. Tonight’s the first night since her surgery that she hasn’t worn panties to bed, wanting more than cuddles.
Though I have the light of the moon to see by at night, I’ve plugged in a few nightlights. My little darlin’ is the scenic view anywhere we go, not the landscape.
After scooting down the bed without jostling it, I kiss the underside of her cheek and flip the hem of her nightgown up and out of the way. “You were waiting for Daddy’s kiss goodnight, weren’t you?”
Gently pushing her knee up higher to spread her wider, I bury my face in her and lick a line between her pussy lips, carefully sliding a hand over her hip to caress the tiny, life-changing, fresh scar near her navel. It was astonishing how the town came together to pay for both of our hospital stays after Faye passed an absurdly large pickle jar around at the diner.
Popping my index finger in my mouth, I get it nice and wet, then slip it between Layla’s thighs from behind and press the pad against her clit, applying the gentlest of pressure as I massage it. It’s enough to have her lips parting with a puff of air as her breathing accelerates, but not enough to make her twitch or awaken.
My cock aches in my sweatpants, missing the warmth of her wrapped around me, and I sit up on my knees, straddling her straight leg to push the thick fabric down. I squeeze my shaft from root to tip, then swipe my index through my precum beading at the slit, returning to her clit as I slowly jack my cock. Staring at my hand at the juncture of her thighs, I edge myself as I think about sliding into her an inch at a time and how deep I may be able to go without hurting her now.
“Soon, darlin’, your belly won’t be so little anymore.” My eyes roll back in my head with pleasure while I thrust my cock through my closed fist. “I’ve already made the appointment. Can’t wait to surprise you. F—I’m gonna cum just thinking about it.”
“Daddy,” Layla moans. My eyes pop open to find her straightening her other leg and pushing her bear away so she can roll further onto her stomach. She arches her back and tilts her hips up, presenting her bottom. “What appointment?”
I abandon her clit and my cock so I can kiss the top of her bottom and work my way up her body, lowering myself over her, pinning her legs together between my knees, bracing my elbows on either side of her shoulders. “Were you pretending to be asleep?” I ask, pushing my face into the crook of her neck. I slide my cock between her inner thighs, skimming her pussy, teasing her as much as I do myself.
“Maybe,” she says with a hint of mischief in her sleepy voice, rolling her hips and grinding against me. “I was too excited to sleep.” She whimpers when I angle my cock so that on my next thrust, I push just inside her entrance.
I vibrate with pleasure. “Excited is right. You’re already wet.”
“Mmhmm. What took you so long to come to bed?” She moans when I pull out and push deeper, having edged myself too much, fighting the urge to cum already.
Since I don’t want to lie—and lordy knows I can’t think straight enough to come up with one anyway—I distract her by flattening my chest on her back and pushing halfway inside her, easing back a fraction in case I’ve approached her limit.
“Oh god, Daddy,” she cries out with ecstasy instead of pain, gripping the pillow and sheets as she braces herself for my next thrust. “Yes! I missed you.”
I moan, sliding a hand beneath her to cup her left breast as I thrust inside her, bottoming out without her flinching in the slightest. “I missed you, too, darlin’. I’d have waited a hundred years, though, for you to be ok.”
Layla reaches back to grip my neck, arching hers to the side so I can kiss the underside of her jaw. “Would you still marry me even if I could never have sex again?”
“Of course, I would. You are my world, darlin’. This,” I say, punctuating my words with a harder thrust, “is just a bonus.”
Layla hums, clenching her inner muscles around my shaft. “A big, hard, mind-blowing bonus.”
“Mmhmm,” I agree, squeezing her breast while my nuts draw up with my impending orgasm. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, gorgeous, but I love how much you’ve filled out.” Withdrawing suddenly, I roll Layla onto her back, spread her legs, and curl my spine so I can thrust inside her while taking her left nipple into my mouth. “And with luck and doctors on our side, they’ll fill out even more soon.”
Layla closes her eyes and tangles her fingers in my hair as she hikes her knees up my sides when I suction my lips and massage the underside of her breast with my tongue. Rolling my eyes up, I tell her, “Watch me.”
Her eyes pop open, and I switch to her right breast, plumping it in my palm. Pulling back so I can take a deep breath, I confess, “I read your book. The one you tried to hide.” Layla’s thighs flex around me, her mouth dropping open with surprise. “Is that what you want?”
“Which part?” she asks.
“Do you want to comfort me the way she does her man, letting him drink her milk and warm his belly?”
Layla shivers, her eyes trying to flutter shut. “Maybe, if that’s something you’d want to try.” She tenses and asks, “Have you done that before? With—”
“No.” Wrapping my arms around her back, I roll over and maneuver into a sitting position, lifting and lowering her bottom to help her bounce on my cock. “And I don’t want to think about her or the past. I don’t want you to, either. No one who came before belongs in here with us. Agreed?”
Holding onto my shoulders, Layla exaggerates the roll of her hips, tugging on my cock. “A thousand times, yes.” She cups her right breast and pulls my head down. “No, a million times, yes,” she moans, shaking on my lap when I suckle her deep into my mouth while pushing a hand between us to play with her clit. “Oh, Daddy, yes, I’m gonna cum. You’re so good, so good. Oh!”
Layla comes apart, forcing my orgasm out of me, filling her belly with my warm cum. I eventually draw back when she pushes my head away, and we both look down to see her nipple distended, slightly bruised with a hickey.
“Yeah.” I lick the tip of her nipple, imagining what her milk will taste like, her pussy pulsing around my cock with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “I definitely want to try that.”