Chapter 35
Shut It Down
Fenella
“Okay, easy,” Lloyd says, steadying Laird.
We wait while Laird climbs the stairs, slow and cautious, one step at a time. The wound on his stomach still hasn’t fully healed, but the doctor cleared him to go home. Luckily, Lloyd’s here. They’re about the same build, so he supports him while I carry his clothes upstairs.
“Here we are.” Lloyd helps him sit on the bed, letting out a small sigh.
“Thanks, man,” Laird says.
“Yeah, no problem.” Lloyd nods, glancing at me with a half-smile. “I hope you accept that your room’s here now, not the house across the street.”
My cheeks burn. I clear my throat, pretending not to notice his teasing. Now that Lloyd knows Laird stayed at my place for almost two weeks without saying a word, he’s been teasing us nonstop on the way home.
“It can’t be helped. It’s fate,” Laird says with a grin, settling back against the headboard.
“Well, I hope you’ll be fine with Mrs. Myers taking care of you. I know you’d rather have her,” he tilts his head at me, “looking after you every day, but she should be gone before our dad gets home.” Lloyd’s tone turns sharp, almost parental.
“Why don’t we just let her stay as long as she wants?” Laird challenges Lloyd's gaze with a deep crease on his forehead.
“Are you guys really together now? Having sex and all?” Lloyd points between us.
“Yes, we are,” Laird says, completely unfazed.
“Laird,” I whisper, heat rising to my face. What is wrong with Lloyd? He hasn’t changed at all since middle school—still arrogant, blunt, and shameless.
“It’s true,” Laird shrugs.
“Wow. You two don’t get sick of each other? You’ve known each other since, what, newborns?” Lloyd wrinkles his forehead, his nose scrunching like he’s disgusted.
“Let's call it fate,” I shoot back, taking Laird's words, suppressing the red warmth on my cheek.
“Well, good luck with that. Hope you’re ready for this madhouse of a family.” Lloyd smirks.
“Don’t scare her with things that don’t matter,” Laird warns, his voice low.
“Hell, it matters. Dad and his girlfriends—same age as you, by the way—yeah, that’s a big deal. Fenella’s gonna find out soon how messed up it really is.” Lloyd tilts his head at me, his tone singsong.
“Can we not do this right now?” Laird mutters, his jaw tightening.
“Oh, right. You need rest.” Lloyd chuckles, patting my shoulder. “Take care of him, Fen.”
“You’re leaving already?” I ask as he heads for the door.
“Group study. First mock trial’s tomorrow. Catch you later.” He winks, waves lazily, and shuts the door behind him.
Once he’s gone, I sit closer to Laird. “Why does he sound so bitter?” I frown.
“Jealousy, frustration, and a shitty dad. That’s why. But I swear he’s not as miserable as you think,” Laird sighs, adjusting his pillow.
I want to ask more about him, about how Lloyd became that bitter, but maybe I shouldn’t pry too much. “Okay… you should rest now.” I pull the blanket over his legs.
“You leaving now?” His eyes trace my face, soft but searching.
Seeing him like this—fragile, still recovering—I can’t make myself go. How can I leave when he needs me? But Lloyd’s warning about Hugo Evans lingers in my mind. Their dad’s infamous in this neighborhood for being ruthless, unpredictable. No one wants to cross him.
“Just a little longer,” I whisper, rubbing his arm with gentle strokes.
“Good. Stay here.” His hand slips around my waist, holding me close. “You’re not scared of my father, right?” Laird raises a brow.
“Not scared. Just… uneasy. He’s been cold for a long time. He didn’t even visit you in the hospital.” I brush my thumb along his cheek.
“You know how he is. That’s nothing new. He never came to a single baseball game or parents’ day.” Laird exhales, resting his head on my shoulder. He breathes in my scent like he’s grounding himself.
“I don’t think he’ll ever accept me,” I murmur.
“Screw that. His sugar baby probably thinks the same thing. They come and go from this house like it’s a hotel.” He scoffs before planting a small kiss on my shoulder.
“What about your mom?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
Laird exhales and lifts his head to meet my gaze. “I don’t know. Last time I saw her was when I was interning at the prosecutor’s office a couple years ago. She came to see Mr. Golden, just to say hi.”
“Huh? She didn’t come for you?” My brows pull together.
Laird goes quiet for a moment. His lips press into a thin line before he murmurs, “Malcolm Golden’s the reason she left us.”
I freeze, staring at him. My hands grip his arms. “Wait—Malcolm Golden? The guy your mom had an affair with back in high school is him?” My voice cracks in disbelief.
“Yup. The same jerk you gave your mom’s cookies to.”
My jaw drops. I stare into his eyes, searching for any twitch of a lie. But no, he’s serious.
“You mean you worked with him to catch Alan?” My voice stutters between my rapid breaths. I don’t expect this at all. But the way he nods, lips pressed tight like he’s forcing himself to accept it, convinces me his words aren’t a trick.
“Wow. Okay.” I breathe in, trying to process it.
This is so messed up. But he strips his ego just to work with him. Not fully, they still bicker like enemies, but what a sacrifice. That’s a different level of forgiveness in my world.
“So, are they happy together now?” I blink, still bewildered by the whole thing.
He gives me a long stare and shakes his head. His hands drift back to stroke my fingers. He looks down, like he’s holding his mouth shut to stop himself from saying more. He lifts my hand, kisses it slow and deep, like he needs the contact just to stay steady.
“They separated when I entered law school,” he says, his voice muffled against my hand. It’s not a kiss. It’s a scream for help.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” I whisper. “I didn’t see it coming at all. God.” I grasp his hand tighter.
“Yeah. It’s okay.” He pulls back and exhales. “But they’re still good friends, that’s why she came to say hi to him and looked civil. Sometimes I wonder if my mom had an affair with her true love. It must be. Why would she do all that to us if it wasn’t true love.” Laird lets out a long sigh.
“I don’t think that’s true love. That’s why she divorces again. She’s just being selfish, running from your dad and her responsibility of taking care of you and Lloyd.” I mumble.
I rub his cheek. How sad and how hard it must be for him. Not to mention how he has to join hands with the man who destroyed his family. It can’t be easy.
“Well, never mind that. I don’t give a fuck about her anymore.” He shrugs, but the shrug looks a little forced.
“But you cooperate with him.” My gaze lands on his lips tightening.
“Only for you.” Laird’s thumb rubs my cheek.
His eyes gleam like he keeps everything inside that gaze. Something so painful, some regrets, something I can never truly understand. I pull him closer, circling my hand on the back of his neck, planting a lingering kiss on his temple.
My lips trail to his cheek, hoping I can reduce all his negative emotion. When my lips reach his, we kiss carefully so we don’t hurt his stomach. Our lips move slow, our tongues tasting each other with soft pulls.
“Ouch.” Laird winces and pulls back with a grimace. He straightens his back so his stomach won’t press.
“Uh, you know, it seems like a bad idea to stay here too long.” I giggle, and Laird lets out a small laugh too.
“Yeah. You should go home and rest.” His eyes flutter closed.
“Will you be okay on your own?” I ask while stroking his cheek.
“No. I’m not gonna be okay. Maybe stay a bit longer? Promise I won’t do anything.” Laird pulls me back into his arms and guides me down onto his bed.
“Laird.” His name leaves my lips as my cheeks warm.
He lies beside me. Carefully, he turns onto his side and hugs me like I’m his pillow. His lips press a long kiss to my forehead.
“It must be the medicine making me drowsy. Stay with me until I fall asleep,” he says, his eyes closing.
I smile. “Okay. I’ll be here until you sleep.” My thumb strokes his jawline.
“Thank you, baby.” His voice softens as his eyelids grow heavy. I kiss his eyelids for a soft goodnight kiss. He gives a small smile and looks at me for a moment before he closes his beautiful emerald green eyes.
* * *
Two weeks later, all my bruises are healed. No more purple spots or marks. I can walk without pain. There’s a faint scar on my ear and cheek, but I can cover it with my hair and a band-aid.
I bring sunglasses too, just in case paparazzi are lurking. Scars and tired eyes stand out in photos, and I don’t need another scandal cooked up by the media.
“Is there really no way to get in?” I sigh.
“No. Everything’s being tightly guarded.” Jessy shakes his head.
I rest my chin on my hand, propped on the wooden table. My gaze cuts through the cafe window across from Gene’s office. The door is sealed with yellow police tape. Two officers sit there for most of the day, watching the perimeter and stopping anyone from entering.
“I guess they really shut it down,” I murmur, staring blankly as my fingers fidget with my iced coffee cup.
“I know,” Jessy says, taking a sip.
“The good side of Ms. Lola’s dementia… she doesn’t remember anything. I can’t imagine her heart breaking if she saw Gene’s office like this.” I fight back tears.
“Let’s hope her kids don’t tell her,” he says, looking down at his cup.
Since this morning, we’ve been sitting quietly in the cafe, keeping an eye on Gene’s office from afar.
We came to grab some materials for my portfolio and some email data from Jessy’s computer.
But the police won’t let anyone in. The place is a crime scene now, and all the documents are already at the prosecutor’s office.
“So, what happens with the February contract? New York Fashion Week for next season starts prep next week, right?”