Chapter Thirty-Six
Fallon
“It’s okay. You're okay,” I whisper, too scared to get any closer into her personal space. “Tell me, what do you need? A ride home? A place to stay? A doctor? I promise I can help you, if you let me.”
“Can you get me out of here?” She asks, her voice wobbling. “Please.”
“Of course,” I say as I reach out my hand. “I can take you wherever you need to go.”
She takes a second, her eyes flicking between my hand and my face. What has this woman been through that has made her feel so scared? My heart cracks a little when she doesn’t accept it straight away, but it's not long before she lifts her hand to mine, gripping it tight.
I squeeze hers in return and muster the kindest smile I can.
“Luke? Will you get a cab?” I ask, and the woman's body jerks beside me.
Looking over at her, I can see the tears springing to her eyes. Is it Luke? Surely he hasn’t done something? Or is it men in general? Hoping for the latter, I try to calm her.
“Luke is a doctor at the hospital not far from here. I swear to you, you are safer around him than anyone else,” I feel myself relax the moment her shoulder sag in relief.
“We will keep you safe,” he smiles his genuine, workplace smile. All professional. “Let's go, the car will be here any minute.”
The drive to Luke's place takes minutes, but after quizzing her on where she wanted to go, we decided that bringing her here was the best option. This way, he can check her over, make sure she hasn't sustained any more injuries, and maybe help her figure out the situation she’s got herself into.
The lift doors open into his apartment, and her eyes widen. Yeah, I felt the same way when I first came here. I think to myself.
“Would you like some water?” Luke asks, backing away to the kitchen.
I know what he's doing; he's giving me the chance to speak to her alone. God, the feelings I have for him feel stronger by the second. She nods subtly, and he leaves us to it. I still have her hand in mine as I usher her over to the sofa.
I plonk myself down and start untying the straps of my heels.
“Thank fuck for that. These things have been killing me,” I giggle, but when I look at her, she’s still standing, twisting her fingers together. “Why don’t you take a seat? We could talk?”
She nods and slowly lowers herself down. I wouldn’t say she looks comfortable, though. She is perched on the very edge, as if that will help her escape quicker if she needed to.
“So, er…” I start. Shit, I don’t even know her name yet.
“Layla,” she says.
“Layla,” I smile. “So, Layla. Do you want to talk about what's going on, or do you want to watch some TV and have a chill?”
She frowns, biting her lip. “You… you don’t mind if I don’t want to talk?”
“God no. I’ve been in a situation where I couldn’t talk, even when I wanted to.
I would never make you do something you didn’t want to,” I say, pushing myself further into the sofa.
“But, if you do, I've been told I have good listening ears.” I wink.
“I just want you to feel safe from whatever is troubling you.”
“I’m kind of… stuck, in a bad situation. Tonight escalated a lot,” she admits. Looking down at her knees. “If you didn’t see me, didn’t help me when you did, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
I stay quiet, not wanting to push or interrupt her. I’m hoping she will tell me because she wants to. She is still looking down at her knees, so I can't see her face, but the tear that drips onto her leg gives away just how much this is hurting her.
“It’s my boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend,” she says through the thickness in her throat. “He hasn’t accepted that we’re over.”
“I used to know someone like that,” I admit.
A sad laugh bubbles out of her throat. “How can people like them exist? How is it fair that we have to suffer so much pain, and when we finally get the courage to leave, they won't let us go?”
“If your ex is anything like mine, it's because they are pure evil. He got off on hurting me, twisting my feelings so I always needed him, even when I didn’t.”
She looks up at me then, her eyes shimmering with so much sadness and pain.
“Fallon, I need to tell you something…”
At that point, Luke walks back into the room with a tray of medical supplies. Smiling at Layla as he deposits it on the table. That is the same thing she said to me the last time I saw her. I can't let her leave without finally finding out what is going on.
“Would it be okay if I check you over? Or at least clean your lip up?” he asks.
“Erm,” her gaze shoots to mine first, and I nod in silent agreement. “Yeah… yes. That would be good.”
He kneels in front of where she is sitting and busies himself with wiping her lip.
“This is much deeper than I realised, I’m not sure it could heal on its own, and unfortunately, I don’t have the equipment to sew you back up here,” he says as his shoulders slump.
Then he frowns. “Is that a bruise on your neck, too?”
She fidgets uncomfortably, her hand flying up to cover her neck, but this time she doesn’t lie. She nods her head a little, more tears springing to her eyes. Luke nods back in answer and finishes up all he can do here.
“We will need to go into the hospital for me to do the rest, but this should do for now,” he smiles with those beautiful eyes of his. “Would you like me to leave for a bit?” His question is aimed at me, but I turn to Layla to see what she says.
“Are you two a couple?” She asks meekly.
“We are,” I say, turning to give Luke a small smile, which makes him puff out his chest proudly.
“Then he should probably know what I need to tell you,” her voice is trembling just as much as her hands are.
Shit, what the hell has she got to say? There is an inkling in the back of my mind, telling me I know exactly why she's here, and why she has come to me.
“The reason he lashed out at me so badly tonight was that he saw someone. Someone other than me that he is obsessed with. The one woman who did get away and moved on,” she says, trailing off.
“No,” I whisper.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks now, and it's only when Luke slides in next to me on the sofa and brushes my cheek that I realise I am doing the same.
“It’s you, Fallon. You're the one he can't let go.”
“Your ex,” I stammer, taking a breath before continuing. “Is John Tatum?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t want you involved, I, just, didn’t know who to turn to.”
But before she makes it to the door, I'm on my feet and chasing after her.
“Layla, wait,” I call to her, and she freezes on the spot.
I step around so I’m face to face with her, and without a word, wrap my arms around her. Her body sags into mine, as her arms squeeze me like I'm her lifeline.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she pants into my neck. “I should never have searched for you. I should never have booked in under fake names at the salon. I just… didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t be sorry. You did exactly what you needed to do. I know what he is capable of, and how hard it is to find someone you can speak to.” I know this more than most. Holding her tighter, I move my hand in soothing circles on her back. “He won’t get away with it this time.”