Chapter 11
I ’d avoided my apartment for as long as possible.
I’d given my team the day off unless they were working the Donut, which Rush still refused to let me help with in any way. And Peyton had disappeared as soon as the funeral ended. So, after spending an absurd amount of time in front of the abandoned trailer we’d grown up in, I’d gone to my dark, empty office and raged in a way I never had before.
Once I was spent emotionally and physically, I’d lain on the floor of my office for hours before eventually getting up and cleaning the destruction.
And even though hesitation was pulling at me, screaming at me to go anywhere else, I realized with each step toward the elevator of my building that my apartment was the only place I wanted to be.
I kept telling myself it was because that was the only space that was mine . That, once I was up there, I could finally get out of this outfit and drown out my thoughts in my gym—try to forget who I’d buried today. But with each floor the car climbed, flashes of stormy blue eyes and a blinding smile pulsed through my thoughts—mocking me with what I knew would be waiting for me and what I couldn’t entertain even the idea of.
But the second I stepped off the elevator and into my apartment, all the reluctant anticipation that had been building in my veins was replaced with an instinctive, sickening sort of dread when I heard country music pouring out of my speakers.
I ground my jaw as I started through the apartment, already seeking out the girls when my gaze landed on something that hadn’t been there just this morning. Something that shouldn’t be there. But just as my lips parted, my attention snagged on another new item and another.
Just like that, my pulse spiked as I took in the décor that had Lainey’s name all over it. From the plants to the bright throw pillows and blankets to the oversized basket in the corner that was filled with Kaia’s toys.
It wasn’t even cluttered, but from the way apprehension twisted through me and threatened to suffocate me, my living room might as well have been filled with drugs and rodents and old food.
Funny. After everything I’d seen and done overseas, you’d think I’d have PTSD from that. But, no...give me a room that was anything less than minimalistic and immaculate, and I was a child in a filthy trailer all over again, struggling to protect and raise my siblings while our mom played twisted games with our lives.
“Miss Pearson.” Her name ripped from my throat as my stare bounced between each new thing faster and faster until it snapped to the side at the sound of her quick steps.
She rushed down the hall with Kaia in her arms, my niece barely visible from where she was wrapped up in one of the little towels that had an animal hoodie. “Hey,” Lainey said breathlessly, smile brighter than I could stand. “Hi, sorry. I didn’t know when you were coming back, so I started with her nighttime routine.”
I pointed at the ceiling. “Never again.”
She readjusted Kaia’s weight on her hip, a line appearing between her eyebrows as she glanced up before seeming to realize what I was talking about. “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and remorse. “I should’ve asked if I could use your speakers.”
“You can,” I informed her darkly. “Not for this kind of music.”
At that, surprise replaced everything else until I continued.
“Get rid of it,” I demanded, loosely gesturing to my living room.
I’d been sure I couldn’t feel any worse after this morning, but that look like I’d crushed her before she could mask her emotions? It tore at me. Made me falter as I fought to remember why I couldn’t comfort her and why I didn’t want her pillows and plants.
“I’m—Mr. Briggs, I’m sorry,” Lainey whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her gaze drifted toward the rest of the living room before struggling to hold mine. “I just thought it might—” She cleared her throat, her head shaking just slightly. “You’re right. It wasn’t my place. I’m sorry.”
She’d apologized four times in half as many minutes.
She couldn’t even look at me anymore.
And I didn’t know how to undo what I’d done.
I stared at her helplessly as she stood like a statue, holding onto my niece and seeming to wait for my next reprimand until Kaia started crying. At the sound of those first sniffs before Kaia loosed a pathetic-sounding wail, Lainey quickly glanced around, only briefly touching on me before she focused on Kaia.
“Can you stay?”
Lainey’s head shifted toward me at the question, but the way her eyes continued moving so they never stayed on me had my stomach wrenching.
“I need an hour,” I told her, and knew from how quickly she looked away that I hadn’t succeeded in softening my tone.
“Of course,” she said, already turning to head down the hall she’d appeared from.
I watched them go, wavering for far too long after they were gone, before heading upstairs to change. Just before I reached the last step, the music cut off so abruptly and resolutely, it shredded something deep inside me, almost making me wish she’d turn it back on.
I’d deal with the unmistakable, bone-chilling sounds of country music if it’d take that defeated look off her face—if it’d make her brave enough to look at me again. But I’d never been the kind of person to apologize. I wasn’t sure I knew how to. More than that, I wasn’t sure I could make Lainey understand why I was the way I was.
But when I caught a glimpse of where she was reading to Kaia half an hour later, I realized I wanted to.
Apologize . . . make her understand . . . let her know me.
I stepped around the rowing machine I’d been walking toward, giving me a clear view of the living room. The sight of Lainey curled up on my couch, holding a snuggled-up and exhausted-looking Kaia gripped at my chest in a way I couldn’t define.
Dangerous . . . this girl was more dangerous than anything I’d ever encountered.
And yet, without another glance at my rowing machine, I left the gym, already pulling out my AirPods.
“Can you stay a while longer?” I asked as I rested my forearms on the second-floor railing.
Lainey didn’t look at me or take her eyes off the book—she didn’t even stop reading—as she nodded.
“I’ll be back,” I assured her as I once again headed for my room, ordering dinner as I went.
By the time I’d showered and made it downstairs, Lainey and Kaia were gone, as was the décor. But even if I couldn’t feel the trail of Lainey’s pain and humiliation leading to the spare rooms, I would’ve known she was still there.
I didn’t need to know everything about her to know Ada had been right—Lainey was a people-pleaser. Just not in the way I’d first expected.
I stole down the long hallway to Kaia’s room, but only let myself watch Lainey, take her in, for a moment as she gently swayed with Kaia in the dark the same way she had that first morning.
Tearing myself away, I headed back through the halls just as my phone vibrated with a message from one of the front desk managers, letting me know the food had arrived, and he was bringing it up.
I jogged across the apartment to meet him at the elevator and felt something in my soul crumble when I rounded the walled-off foyer and stumbled upon all the décor that had been messing up my living room less than an hour before.
From Lainey’s palpable discomfort to the way everything except the plants was piled into the basket that had held Kaia’s toys, it was almost like looking at someone’s belongings mid-move.
Considering I hardly knew Lainey, the sight shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did.
I cleared my throat and slowly looked over when the elevator arrived, then nodded at the night manager.
“I need a keycard made for my nanny,” I told him as I accepted the box. “It needs to have the same access as mine so she doesn’t have to worry about the parking and can come at all hours.”
A knowing and somewhat honored look settled over his face as if I’d just let him in on some big secret. “Of course, Mr. Briggs. I’ll get right to work on that for your nanny .”
I didn’t bother telling him that’s really all she was, just said, “I’ll have her pick it up in a little while.”
With a dip of his head, he hurried back onto the elevator before the doors could close, and I spared one last glance at the gathered décor before heading toward the kitchen.
“She’s asleep,” Lainey said just as I set the pizza on the island, seeming to say the words as if she were announcing herself, even though I’d heard her walking down the hall and through the living room. “Do you need anything else?”
“You hungry?” When she didn’t respond, I looked up to find her staring at me like she couldn’t figure me out, and I couldn’t blame her for it.
A fresh wave of pain and confusion burst from her as she looked toward the front of my apartment. “I’m fine. I should?—”
“Eat.”
Her chest pitched with a muted laugh. “If there’s something else I’ve done, or if you’re going to fire me, just say it,” she pled before meeting my stare again. “You don’t need to ease into it with pizza.”
“Why do you always think I’m firing you?”
Genuine shock stole across her expression as if she didn’t know why I’d even have to ask. “Mr. Briggs?—”
“Asher.”
A soft, slightly exasperated laugh bled from her lips, but she just continued, saying, “I promise, I’m not trying to make this more difficult for you. I’m trying to help.”
My head bobbed subtly as I turned to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. “Did you eat dinner?” When silence met me, I twisted to look at where she was staring at a spot on the floor and asked, “Have you eaten at all since you’ve been here?”
“I’m not sure that’s relevant to this conversation or my job,” she said, the words barely a whisper.
“You’ve been here for twelve hours.”
“And you’re here now,” she added as if one had to do with another, a smile so unlike any other I’d seen from her pulling at her lips. It was forced and hesitant and didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “So, I should probably go so you can have your space back.”
“Eat,” I said again as I set the plates on the granite countertop and flipped open the box. When she didn’t make a move to join me, I added, “Please.”
With a heavy exhale, she slowly crept into the kitchen and grabbed a plate. Her eyes darted between mine and the counter before she admitted, “I ordered a coffee and had a couple of Kaia’s puffs earlier.”
“You know you’re allowed to eat here,” I told her as I watched her grab a slice from the box.
She didn’t acknowledge my words, just turned for the small kitchen table.
“Lainey...” When she glanced at me from over her shoulder, I begged, “Eat my food. If I don’t have what you like, let me know. But if you’re gonna be here all day, you need to eat.”
“I will,” she said with a noncommittal shrug as she sank into one of the chairs.
And that small movement told me her not eating here had nothing to do with my food and had everything to do with how she’d already bought so much for Kaia and still refused to give me the receipt so I could reimburse her. Just as I had a feeling she would’ve never expected or let me pay her back for the décor.
I studied her for a second longer before grabbing a couple pieces and following her to the table.
“I’ve never eaten here,” I admitted as I dropped into the chair adjacent to her.
Surprise lit in her eyes before her brow furrowed as she quickly glanced around. “Wait, where do you eat?”
I gestured to the counter we’d just left. “Wherever I’m standing, usually. Sometimes in my office if I don’t have time to be away from things.”
She nodded absentmindedly as she stared at the island, but just as quickly as she drew in a breath to say something, she clamped her mouth shut instead.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Honesty,” I reminded her, prompting a self-deprecating laugh from her.
With a flippant roll of her eyes, she said, “It would be good for Kaia if you ate here with her.” Her blue eyes shifted to me for a fraction of a second before falling to her untouched food. “But that’s really not my place.”
I wanted to beg her to face me and stand up to me the way she had the other night. I wanted to go back and erase everything I’d said and done if it would take away the hesitation bleeding from her and this uncomfortable tension between us. I wanted her to smile in that way that managed to touch my ruined, numb heart in a way nothing ever had.
The realization rocked me.
I’d never cared about peoples’ feelings or how I came across to anyone. The less people wanted to be around me, the better. It was safer that way—always had been. Granted, Rush had slowly forced me to trust my team when we were in the military, but this?
“My mom was a junkie,” I began, the confession hoarse and strained as if nearly every part of me was rebelling letting this person in.
Lainey’s eyes flashed my way before falling to her plate again.
“When she was around, she was always so trashed off whatever she could get her hands on. Most addicts stick to one thing at a time, if they ever change, but she just chased the high: pills, coke, meth, it didn’t matter to her.” I nodded to myself as I forced images away as fast as they appeared. “My earliest memory is taking Wyatt and Peyton to the trailer next to ours, trying to get milk for Peyton—she was still a baby.”
At that, I was the one who looked away when Lainey’s wide eyes sought out mine, her expression saturated with disbelief and pity. Because I didn’t want anyone’s pity. Never had.
“She didn’t raise us. I did,” I told her. “That’s why this week—Wyatt and Kaia—has been so difficult. That’s my failure.”
“No—”
“Yes,” I said over Lainey, shooting a hard look her way to ensure she wouldn’t try arguing that again because no one could convince me otherwise. “I did everything to keep us alive, so not being able to keep him clean or alive now? That’s on me.”
She looked like she wanted to say something, to argue, but she just listed her head and pressed her lips tightly together.
“I know how to take care of a baby,” I went on, bringing us back to our conversation that first night. “I fumbled my way through raising Peyton, even though I’m sure I did it all wrong. And even though I don’t remember what to do, that isn’t what this is.” I jerked my chin toward the wall behind her. “It’s that Kaia’s a reminder of what I lost. I can hardly look at her.”
“Asher,” she breathed, and I’m pretty sure my heart flatlined for long seconds before taking off at a torturous pace.
I worked my jaw as I fought the urge to do something I was sure I’d regret, like kiss her again because I wanted to, and said, “But everything else? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not gonna fire you. The stuff with my apartment is just—” I drew in a deep breath as memories overwhelmed me.
Memories I refused to plague anyone with, especially the woman next to me.
“I did what I could to keep our rundown trailer as clean as possible when our mom was gone,” I said instead. “But when she was there...” I swiped a hand just above the table’s surface as a shaking I didn’t know how to control started deep in my bones. “She’d empty entire dumpsters worth of rotten food, used needles, and anything else you can imagine in there like it was treasure and force us to live in it. Sleep in it.” Bury us underneath it like it was a game.
“Did you ever tell anyone?” Lainey asked when I didn’t go on, her voice just above a horrified whisper.
I met her worried stare, my head already shaking before I said, “We showed up at school with bruises and the same dirty clothes, and teachers always looked away. Besides, I was worried we’d get separated if we went into the system.”
“You were a kid,” she said in understanding.
A rumble of agreement sounded in my throat. “If I could do it again, I’d do whatever it took to get us away from her.”
Lainey nodded before gently asking, “Did she hit you?” Before I could begin to respond, she hurried to add, “You don’t have to tell me—sorry. You just said bruises .”
I opened my mouth to shut down the question only to hesitate. “That was the least of it,” I finally admitted, the words seeping from me like a dirty confession, “and you’ll never know the rest.”
Sorrow etched across her beautiful face as she studied me, her head dipping in the smallest nod. “I’m so sorry.”
“There are some traumas you bury deep and others you don’t recover from,” I replied simply. “But that trailer is why I’m the way I am. It’s why Wyatt started using. It’s why Peyton left for New York when she was eighteen and didn’t come back until last night.” I cleared my throat and gestured to her. “It’s why country music sets me on edge, and why I can’t handle seeing unnecessary things.”
Seconds passed before understanding and a deep dread burned in Lainey’s eyes as if realizing what she’d unknowingly contributed to. “Oh...oh my gosh, I’m?—”
“You didn’t know,” I said before she could apologize again.
“But I shouldn’t have used your speakers,” she nearly cried.
“I want you to.”
“And it wasn’t my place,” she continued over me as a regretful laugh left her. “None of it was my place. I just—” She loosely waved toward the living room before letting her hand fall to her lap. “Your apartment feels so cold and unlived in and like no one can touch anything, and I stupidly assumed that was because of how much you work. With there being a baby here now, I thought I could make it homey, but that wasn’t my place,” she repeated. “That isn’t my job.”
The corner of my mouth twitched into a whisper of a smirk. “What’s wrong with my apartment?”
Lainey’s eyes widened as if just realizing what all she’d said during her adorable ramble. “Nothing.”
“Honesty,” I told her again.
“I’d prefer not to.” The words came out on a strained breath and forced a gravelly laugh from me that seemed to stun her.
“After what you’ve already said, you might as well expand on it,” I muttered and watched as the slight tease in my voice made her worry fall away as if it’d never been there.
Lainey’s eyes danced as they searched mine. Her lips were once again pressed tightly together, only this time, it was in an attempt to fight a smile.
And to have that look after everything I’d shared with her? To feel this light when my past had always been so heavy and sickening? It did something to me.
This dangerous, dangerous girl.
“Not sure what exactly I said,” she began with a feigned look of worry as she finally unleashed that smile on me, “but I’m sure I said everything.”
“Then tell me why you were crying this morning.”
In an instant, Lainey’s expression fell and shuttered. But just when I thought she was going to dismiss the question or try to lie her way around it, she dropped her stare and whispered, “That’s complicated...”