13. The Solace
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SOLACE
Layla
I wake up two days later to a text from my dad.
Dad
I’m not feeling well, so let’s rain check our breakfast. Sorry, La-La.
My adrenaline spikes as I press the Call button. We were supposed to go out to our favorite breakfast place in Malibu today since I didn’t have intensive until later this afternoon. My dad picks up on the third ring.
“I’m fine,” he tells me, but his voice is hoarse. “I have an appointment with my doctor today.”
“What’s wrong? I can be there in two minutes,” I tell him, placing him on speaker and jumping out of bed.
“Nothing, really. My left arm is a bit numb again.”
I break out into a cold sweat. Two years ago, he was hospitalized for a suspected stroke because his left arm went numb, coupled with a headache. It ended up being an early sign of his prediabetes and uncontrolled blood sugar levels, but I’ve remained vigilant ever since.
“I think we should go to the hospital. I’ll be right over, okay?”
“La-La, it’s really nothing. You should go.”
“Better safe than sorry. I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I quickly dial Orion’s number. He picks up almost immediately.
“Already talked to him. I’m on my way.”
Relief washes over me, and my lip trembles as I nod to no one in particular. “Okay. Thanks. I don’t think we should wait for his appointment. I’m going to drive him to the h-hospital—” My voice breaks, but I manage to compose myself.
“I’m ten minutes away. I’ll drive all of us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Orion can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s always been reliable. No matter what, he was there for me—for us. That never wavered, even back when we weren’t on speaking terms.
“Thanks, Orion.”
“Take a deep breath, okay?” I inhale deeply, exhaling audibly. “That’s it. Again.”
I do as he says, and to my chagrin, it helps quell the panic starting to rise. The scare two years ago had given me a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder, and despite getting the all clear from Dad’s doctors, I still dreaded the day there’d be another instance of having to rush him to the hospital. I know as parents age, it’s inevitable. But seeing as I don’t even remember my mom, he’s all I have.
I can’t lose him.
I don’t think I’d ever recover from that.
“Thank you. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
I don’t bother showering. Instead, I brush my teeth and pull on leggings and a cropped tank top, seeing as the temperature outside is already in the low nineties—at eight in the morning.
It’s going to be sweltering today.
Quickly feeding Sparrow, I don’t bother cleaning him up as I check the air-conditioning is set, grab my bag, and close the door a little too loudly behind me.
Jogging to Dad’s house, I walk up just as a sleek black sports car pulls into the driveway. I’m so used to Orion’s bike that it’s strange to see him drive an actual car.
A few minutes later, we’re loading my dad—who protests the entire way—into the passenger seat of Orion’s car. Orion pushes his seat forward, and I climb into the back.
It’s twenty minutes to the hospital, and I pepper my dad with more questions to rule out a possible stroke or heart attack. The numbness is the only symptom, thankfully. Once we get to the emergency room, my dad is seen almost right away.
We’re asked to wait in the waiting room, and he tells us he’ll be fine as they put him in a wheelchair and lead him through double doors.
I turn around and see Orion standing right behind me, arms at his sides.
“Hey,” he says, opening his arms.
I don’t even think—I just fall into them and let him hold me. I’m sweaty from running to my dad’s house and also the fact that it feels like the inside of an oven outside. But Orion smells so good—that familiar smoky, leather scent. Closing my eyes, I feel him squeeze me tighter, and my throat clogs with unshed tears. One of Orion’s arms comes to the back of my head, and he slowly strokes my hair.
“He’ll be okay,” he says, resting his chin on the top of my head.
Memories of the last time we were here together flood through my mind—how we hardly spoke, let alone touched. We were cordial, but I left the room whenever we were alone so I didn’t have to talk to him.
What a difference two years makes.
And then before that… when his mom died.
I remember holding him just like this—his head in my lap as he cried. As the coroner came to the house to take Felicity’s body after she took her last breath and we’d all had a chance to say goodbye. His hands had clung to my shirt for hours as he napped next to me—as my dad sat in the living room staring at the wall.
Going through something like that—watching someone you love die—changes you.
And I’ve learned that in times like that, you need someone to lean on.
I pull out of Orion’s grasp and give him a watery smile. “Should we go sit down?”
“Yeah.”
The waiting room is packed full of people—as it always is with a heat wave. Lots of people get heatstroke, especially with temperatures like we’re currently experiencing. We find a bench meant for one person and manage to squeeze onto it. Orion is huge, and his whole body presses against mine. As subtly as I can, I scoot closer to the end to give him more space.
“I don’t bite,” he murmurs. “In fact, I remember a time when you used to want to sit on my lap.”
My cheeks burn as I look away. “It’s different when you’re nine versus twenty-six,” I grumble.
Orion looks down at me, and his eyes land on my lips briefly before he looks away.
Neither of us has spoken since the night at Phantom of the Opera two days ago. I’d forgotten to open his birthday present, having gone right to bed after getting home from the show. The truth is, I was scared to see what he’d gotten me. Most of the past two days were spent oscillating between thinking about Starboy and trying not to think about Orion. And despite checking in with Starboy twice a day, we haven’t had the opportunity to do a video call again. We talk all day—texting and sending funny memes to each other. I snap selfies of doing barre, and he takes pictures of his smoothies and rumpled sheets.
Last night, Starboy had sent a picture of himself wearing the mask while lying down on a bed. I couldn’t see below his neck, but just the sliver of skin across his throat was enough for me.
Wish you were here.
Four simple words, and I’d been so tempted to break the no-touching-myself rule—especially knowing what he looked like down there and what he’d said afterward.
Just imagine how much of a mess I’ll make on your pretty face one day.
I’d memorized the image of his cock and the mess he’d made because of me.
I snap out of my dirty thoughts as Orion shifts next to me. I bounce my knee nervously as doctors, patients, and family members walk by us in the crowded emergency room.
“You okay?” Orion asks, leaning an inch closer to me. The smell of leather and tobacco fills the space between us, and despite knowing he doesn’t smoke, his musky, smoky scent is damn near intoxicating.
“Fine,” I lie absentmindedly. I’m anxious to get the all clear for my dad.
“I’m going to get a coffee. Want one?” he asks, standing.
“Sure.”
“We might be here for a while,” Orion says, looking down at me. When I meet his eyes, I know he’s remembering the last time, when we had to wait over fifteen hours to take Dad home. “Did you bring something to do? A book or something? If not, I can run to your house and grab you something.”
I’m not really in the mood to read, but I know he’s right. Doing something will take my mind off it.
“My Kindle is in my bag.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I lean against the wall and push my glasses up on my nose before taking a deep breath.
My dad is in the best place he can be.
Everything is fine.
He’ll be okay.
Orion comes back a minute later with his arms full.
“Here,” he says, handing me a coffee. “I got snacks.” I try not to stare at how well his ripped jeans fit his narrow hips and muscular thighs or the way the white T-shirt clings to every one of his muscles.
He sits back down next to me. If possible, the bench seems even more cramped now than it did before. Orion’s thigh presses against mine, and my whole body buzzes with energy.
When I’m done with my coffee and after I’ve gone through a granola bar and a bag of chips, Orion throws our trash out and reaches into my purse, handing me my Kindle.
I glance down at the Kindle on my lap and try to flip it quickly so that he doesn’t see the stickers I’ve decorated it with.
You had me at trigger warning.
Villains do it for me.
My favorite necklaces are hand necklaces.
Call me a good girl.
“What are you reading?” he asks, lips twitching with an almost smile.
My cheeks heat. “ Pride and Prejudice ,” I tell him quickly. That, The Hobbit , and Dracula are my go-tos whenever someone in the non-romance community asks me what I’m reading.
His eyes sparkle with mischief, like he knows I’m lying. How could he? There’s no way.
“Which part are you on?”
My mind goes completely blank. Despite having read all of Jane Austen’s novels multiple times, being put on the spot like this causes me to panic.
“The part with… Mr. Darcy’s wet shirt.”
He huffs a laugh and looks away. “I didn’t realize that was in the book. I thought it was only the movie.”
If it were possible to blush harder, I would.
“The person I’m seeing reads fan fiction,” he says quickly. “Have you read any of that?”
My mind spins with the information he just dropped onto my head. I can’t compute it. The woman he’s seeing reads fan fiction ? It’s an entirely different betrayal because I mostly read fan fiction. I wonder if I know her from the groups I’m in? Does she enjoy it when Orion drops wax on the backs of her thighs, or are their scenes more intense? How did they meet, and what did they talk about? My core flutters with jealousy and intrigue—but mostly jealousy.
“Oh? What’s her favorite fandom?” I ask, knowing his answer will hurt me if it’s the same as mine.
He shrugs. “I think she reads it all. She mentioned a Twilight story the other day.”
My chest aches, and my eyes feel prickly. Why am I having this reaction? Orion is free to date whoever he wants. He’s not beholden to me just because we shared a drunken kiss a few months ago and a “moment” the other night.
“What’s she like?” I ask, hurt lancing through me like I’ve been shot by an arrow.
Orion looks over at me, studying my face intently. “Beautiful. Smart. Accomplished.”
Ouch, ouch, triple ouch.
“I’m really happy for you,” I squeak out.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asks casually.
I open and close my mouth. Am I? It suddenly occurs to me that I could tell him a little about Starboy. The idea of making him jealous appeals to me, especially since my stomach is still roiling with how he described the person he’s seeing and how affectionately he spoke of her.
“Sort of,” I admit. “It’s new. We met online,” I say slowly, watching Orion for his reaction as I distractedly play with the bracelet Starboy gave me.
However, instead of jealousy and anger, his face softens. “I’m happy for you, sis.”
His words crash through me, and I feel sick. Sis? He’s never called me that—not once. But he is my stepbrother. That line was drawn in the sand the second his mother married my father. Still, it doesn’t sit right.
I don’t like it at all, but I don’t have a valid reason. Between that and the comment about the woman he’s seeing, I feel petulant.
Like I want to argue.
Like I want to throw him off his game, too.
“Sis?” I ask, arching a brow. “That’s a new one.”
He smiles, but it’s warm and friendly. It freaks me out because a month ago, he would’ve brooded all day at finding out I was seeing someone. I mean, this is the same man who berated my date to within an inch of his life a few weeks ago.
But he doesn’t seem to care about this new development of mine—and calling me sis ?
What the hell is going on?
I attempt to distract myself with a stalker romance, but I see him pull his phone out every few minutes. After the third time, I can’t help but ask the question I’ve been dying to know.
“Talking to her?” I ask, my voice just a tad too snippy.
He smirks before turning to face me. “If I’m not mistaken, you sound a little jealous, sis ,” he says, his voice low and almost sultry.
My mouth pops open. “I could never be jealous of you,” I nearly whisper-hiss. “I’m just… curious. I don’t think you’ve ever talked about dating anyone since I’ve known you.”
“That you know about,” he adds.
I dip my chin. “Touché.” Drumming my fingers along the front of my Kindle, I practically word-vomit the next question. “What’s her name?”
Orion smiles, and I fight against the knot of envy lodged in my chest. “Why? Are you worried you know her?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, I doubt I do. If she’s… you know,” I add, whispering so that the people standing right in front of us don’t overhear our conversation.
“A submissive?”
My cheeks burn. “Yeah.”
“She’s not. Not yet, anyway. But she’s willing to learn. I think she’s a natural,” he adds, leaning an inch closer to me. The tobacco smell gets stronger as he gets closer. “You’d be surprised how many people naturally want to submit. To give over that control.” He leans another inch closer. “No thinking. No deciding, except whether you want more of whatever your Dom is giving you. Some people find it to be a reprieve from daily life.”
I’m barely breathing—barely thinking. He’s so close to me, and all I can think of are his light blue eyes boring into mine and the way he so confidently led the scene at Inferno a few nights ago. How in command of himself he was—how domineering yet gentle he was to Haley.
I haven’t done much with Starboy, but what I have done has already worked at grounding me. Knowing he was controlling me in a very small way yet seeing how uncontrolled I made him? It was really hot. I wanted more. And if Starboy took control like Orion did for Haley?
There’d be no going back for me.
“I suppose I can understand that,” I answer thickly. “When did you…” I trail off, unsure of how to ask another invasive question.
“Right around the time I stopped drinking,” he tells me. “But control has always interested me. Caring for people. Being the youngest brother meant I couldn’t flex those caretaker muscles often… until I met you, at least.”
Now I really do stop breathing as he continues. His brows scrunch together as he looks down at me.
“I sort of stumbled into it. I went to rehab?—”
“You did?” I ask, guilt lodging inside me. “When?”
He shrugs. “Around the time Miles got married to Stella. It was mostly to mitigate any withdrawal symptoms, and let’s be honest, half the places around here are glorified spas. But it was easy. I did my time and left. The problem is, it wasn’t the alcohol I was drawn to. It was the control—the way I could wield my mind into numbness so I didn’t have to feel anything.” His eyes bore into mine. “Most people are out of control when they drink, but for me, it allowed me to focus on the task at hand and drown everything else out. That first night back from rehab, I walked into the local pub and talked to a woman there. She was there for a munch—which is a casual meetup for anyone in the kink lifestyle. She told me all about it, and I realized it was exactly what I’d been looking for. I joined a local munch shortly after that.”
“Is that where you met Haley?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Orion nods. “Yes. Actually, her first munch was also Liam’s first munch, and she tried to pick him up… needless to say, she and Zoe are friends now, but it was funny to watch Zoe and Liam try to resist their feelings at first.”
I smile, thinking of how Zoe and Liam got together. How she lured him out of his shell, and they both discovered his kinks together. They both resisted for a while because Liam is twenty years her senior, but I’ve never seen a couple more in love.
Well, maybe except for the other Ravage brothers—Chase and his wife, Juliet. And Miles and Stella, who live in Ravage Castle with their young daughter, Beatrix.
Despite being curious, I don’t ask what his kinks are. It feels too personal, and it’s none of my business. Plus, I’m not sure I want to know—it’ll just make the whole idea of him as a Dominant way too real for me. I’d seen enough at Inferno, and I had an idea about his inclinations.
“It’s weird learning stuff about someone you once knew everything about,” I tell him, looking away so he can’t see my pained expression. I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my head, though, and he sighs heavily.
“Trust me. I know the feeling.”
I’m just about to look at him when a doctor calls out my dad’s name from a few feet away.
“Family of Scott Rivers?”
Orion and I both shoot up from the bench. “I’m his daughter,” I say, fumbling with my Kindle as I bend down to grab my purse without bursting into tears.
“Go. I’ll get your things,” Orion murmurs, placing a warm, reassuring hand on the back of my head.
I mutter a quick thanks as I walk over to the doctor.
“Your dad is fine,” he says, smiling. Relief washes over me as Orion comes to stand next to me. “We’re going to run a few more tests to rule out a stroke and heart attack, so he’ll likely stay overnight until his blood sugar comes down, but it appears the tingling and numbness were caused by diabetic neuropathy and very common for someone with uncontrolled diabetes.” He looks at Orion. “Is this your husband?”
I almost laugh out loud, but Orion speaks before I have the chance. “What do you mean uncontrolled diabetes?”
The doctor looks back and forth between us. “He should be taking medication. His blood sugar numbers are extremely high.”
My brows furrow. “He was diagnosed with prediabetes last year. You’re saying it’s progressed?”
The doctor nods. “Yes. When we discharge him, we’ll prescribe medication, but I recommend that he see his regular doctor as soon as possible.”
My eyes well with tears. “Thank you.”
The doctor nods once. “Normally, we’d say you could visit him, but unless you absolutely need to see him, we recommend that you go home. We’re swamped because of the heatwave.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Orion says, reaching a hand out. They shake hands, and a second later, the doctor walks away. “Come on,” he says, placing an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll drive you home.”