37. Reed
reed
. . .
Ishould’ve gone home hours ago, but walking into my empty house doesn’t feel right when all I can think about is her.
Layla’s been gone for twenty-eight days.
Four weeks have passed since she hugged me at the airport, whispered that she’d come soon, and then vanished into the crowd with her gorgeous smile.
She’s been texting whenever she can—quick updates, photos of coffee cups and L.A. sunsets, but I can see the exhaustion behind her words.
She says she’s fine, but I know she’s not.
I’m buried in receipts when my phone rings with a FaceTime from Layla.
I feel a tight sensation in my chest, and butterflies swarm inside me, fluttering with nerves and giddiness—a feeling she only brings out of me.
I answer before it even rings twice.
She’s lying on a pile of crisp, white sheets, her blonde hair tousled, eyes sleepy but smiling. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite person,” she says softly, voice warm. “You miss me yet?”
“Didn’t even try not to,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair. “You finally figure out how time zones work, or just feel like torturing me again?”
She laughs. “It’s not that late.”
“It’s midnight, sunshine.”
She yawns, stretching. “Oh yeah, I’m two hours behind. I’m home alone, bored, and couldn’t sleep. Figured you’d still be up doing something exciting.”
“Oh yeah,” I respond. “Livin’ wild, organizing receipts and going through inventory.”
She giggles, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re such an old man sometimes.”
“Yeah, but you love that about me.”
“Excuse me?” she raises a brow. “I do not.” A pause. “Okay, maybe a little.”
I chuckle, noticing what her smile can’t hide—the faint shadows beneath her eyes and her skin paler than usual. Even through the pixelation, she looks exhausted. “You look tired, sweetheart. Did you sleep at all this week?”
She sighs, pushing hair from her face. “Barely. It’s been… a lot. Shoots, meetings, events. I don’t know, I haven’t been feeling great.”
“You sick?” I ask, frowning.
She shakes her head, her lips looking a little too pale. “No, just tired. Probably from stress.”
“Or maybe ‘cause you’ve been runnin’ yourself into the ground,” I mutter. “You eat today?”
Her guilty silence answers for her.
“Layla,” I warn.
She scrunches her nose. “Half a protein bar and an iced Dunkalatte.”
“Jesus Christ.” I drag my fingers down my mustache. “You’re gonna make me drive to L.A. just to make sure you eat something that didn’t come from a vending machine.”
“I wouldn’t hate that,” she says softly. “You could cook for me, and we can watch your nasty horror movies.”
“They’re not nasty.”
“Yes, they are.” She gives me a lazy grin, her eyes barely staying open.
I choose not to say anything, just watching how her golden hair spills across her pillow, wishing I were there to hold her, wishing I were there to kiss the soft slope of her neck, telling her how much I miss her, how much I need her.
She lets out a yawn, speaking again. “You’ve been counting the days, haven’t you?”
“Every damn one.”
Her eyes flicker, emotion replacing the teasing. “I miss you, Reed.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Miss you too, sunshine.”
She smiles then, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Get some rest, baby. Call me soon, okay?”
“Promise,” she murmurs, blowing a kiss before the screen goes dark.
I shut down the computer, and the quiet of the office settles around me, already counting the hours until I hear her voice again.
Maverick’s house always smells like breakfast, and there’s always some havoc ensuing—coffee brewing, music playing, somebody laughing too loudly, their pets running around like bufoons.
Today’s no different.
Amelia’s sitting on the counter with a cold brew in hand, her bare legs swinging as she watches Maverick dance around the kitchen, shirtless, and half-awake with his hair twisted in different directions.
He’s got Leo tucked against his chest, as his tiny fists are clutching at his dad’s chain while Maverick flips a pancake one-handed.
“Look, buddy!” he says, voice booming. “Daddy’s got skills.”
Amelia groans, but she’s smiling. “You’re going to drop our child and the spatula.”
“Impossible, dollface,” he says, grinning. “I was born for this.”
Maverick hands Leo over to me as he kicks, squealing, and I can’t help but laugh under my breath.
I drop onto the floor beside his bouncer and place him in it, rolling his rattle to him. He tries to grab it with both hands, blue eyes shining.
When he can’t, he screeches anyway.
The front door swings open, and Carter’s voice cuts through the madness.
“Jesus Christ. Every time I come here, it’s always so damn loud.”
Catalina trails behind him, her hand gently resting on her small bump.
Her glow illuminates the room; she’s always been beautiful, and the way Carter looks at her now makes my heart crack a little.
Carter’s glued to her side, his arm protective around her waist. He presses a kiss to her temple before she hobbles over to the kitchen.
Maverick groans dramatically. “God, can you two not be nasty in my kitchen, or I will gag.”
Catalina smirks. “You’re just jealous because Amelia’s the only woman who threatens to stab you daily.”
“We’re kinky in this house,” he fires back.
Amelia lifts her coffee in salute. “Can’t argue there.”
Carter sighs and leans against the counter, watching his wife with a smile that’s damn near worshipful.
Catalina blushes and smacks his chest lightly. He laughs and kisses her again.
The whole room feels like love; messy, loud, genuine love.
Somehow, that’s the part that hurts the most.
I should be happy for my brothers. I am. But when all you want is your own family, it hurts when the one woman you truly want gives you only pieces of herself.
Continuing to watch them all, their laughter, the way their bodies lean toward each other instinctively, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have that.
Someone waiting at home. Someone whose voice fills the quiet.
Not just warmth borrowed through a phone screen.
Layla facetimed me last night.
But after the call, when the screen went black, I sat in my office, surrounded by receipts and silence, wondering whether I’d made her feel something real, or if I’m just some sort of convenience for her.
Maverick claps a hand on my shoulder hard enough to jolt me back. “You good, bro?”
“Fine,” I say, managing a half-smile. “Just tired.”
He squints, unconvinced. “Mmmm, no, you got that thousand-yard stare again. What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing worth talking about.”
“Bullshit.” He grins, looping an arm around my neck and shaking me roughly. “You’re thinkin’ about that bar of yours again, aren’t you? Or a woman. It’s always one of those.”
“You’re going to break my glasses, you fuck.”
He laughs and releases me. “Still got that QB1 strength, baby.”
Amelia’s laughing too now, calling him a menace. Carter joins in, teasing him about burning half the pancakes. Catalina’s humming softly, setting the table.
I pick up Leo when he begins fussing, gently settling him against my shoulder. He calms down immediately, his tiny fingers curling into my shirt.
“Yeah,” I whisper, mostly to myself. “You’ve got it figured out, huh?”
Carter glances over, smiling faintly. “Look at you, he likes you.”
“Guess I’m good with quiet company,” I say, bouncing Leo gently.
The truth burns underneath my words.
I want this.
The mornings, the laughter, the peace.
But what if that’s not meant for me?
Layla’s world is quick and vibrant, filled with cameras and flashing lights.
Mine’s slow and quiet, built from ashes and barstools.
Maybe I’m her escape, the safe place she runs to when everything gets too loud. And maybe when she finally finds her footing, she’ll realize I was never meant to stay in her story.
Leo babbles softly against my shoulder, and I close my eyes, breathing him in. The smell of baby lotion and pancakes fills the air.
I wish I could hold on to this moment a little longer.
Maverick’s voice booms again, dragging me back. “Hey, Reedddd, you gonna eat?”
I force a smirk. “God, you’re so loud, I’m comin’.”
He grins, flexing his biceps, smirking like the idiot he is.
They all laugh again, loudly and effortlessly.
I smile with them, convincingly and rehearsed. But inside, it feels like standing in the middle of everything I’ve ever wanted, knowing it might never be mine.