Leila

 

 

The next time I wake, it’s midmorning and the clouds have cleared up, the sunshine streaming through my window and lighting the room in a bright glow.

I’m alone, thank God, and my body doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. Oh, don’t misunderstand. It feels like a serial killer took his knife to me, but it’s not killing me, and for that, I am grateful, because the door opens as if they can smell my alertness, and Lyon walks in carrying a bag, his wet hair a dark blackish brown that tells me he’s showered.

He stops as soon as he sees me sitting up and then smiles, his face lighting up.

“You’re awake.”

“Yep, far as I can tell since my ass is lame from this bed,” I laugh, choking on this first meeting because the man looks great, and whereas before he was young and still had the look of a boyish man, now Lyon is all man.

Lyon chuckles and drops the bag, coming over and stopping beside me. He hesitates for a beat and then leans over slowly to kiss my cheek. The contact is light, but I shiver at the heat of his lips on my skin.

I’m so nervous, and God, this is awkward, but I’m glad to see him. I really am, so I’m going to force myself to be a big girl and pretend that seeing him isn’t hurting me.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, Lay. I thought for sure you were going to pull a sleeping beauty forever.”

He used to say that all the time after he woke me in the morning with his lips on some part of me. I’d laugh, and we’d make love, and then I’d accuse him of trying to kill me with sleep deprivation.

It was all in good fun because Lyon knew I’d go days without sleep to be with him. The old phrase makes me stiffen, and I look away to blink suddenly wet eyes.

“Me too. And I’m glad to see you, Lyon. You look…good.”

My words are soft but heartfelt, and I look at him through the eyes of a woman, no longer a girl who worshipped him. Like Hawk, he has some fine lines beside his eyes, and like Hawk, I suspect they aren’t the result of laughing but the hardship and danger they’ve faced in the last eight years.

He’s also bigger. I didn’t think it possible, but his T-shirt is stretched tight across a broader chest packed with muscle, and his arms, while not the arms of a body builder, show signs of some intense training.

He looks good, better than good. He looks like a man who is confident and aware of himself, something Lyon lacked before because he didn’t really pay all that much attention to what other people thought of him.

He’s also harder. Where his blue eyes twinkled before, I see a wariness that makes me sad. So sad because I know it’s loss that has put that look there and nothing will take it away.

Once you’ve lost like the Wylder family has, I don’t think you can ever be the same.

“You look exactly the same as I remember, Lay. Still tiny and young and beautiful,” he says softly.

I want to cry because he sounds sad, but I smile instead because I don’t want to make things harder than they already are. I’ve revisited the past, and I’ve come to terms with it all. It’s now. The present and the future too, and I want only happiness from now on.

With Lyon, that’s not hard, but it is in its own way because I’ve long ago accepted that I had to stop loving him with the adoration of my youth. Now, all I will let myself feel is kinship for what we shared and the mature understanding that it’s all in the past. There and yet gone too.

“You’re such a liar. I put on five pounds, and I have frown lines from hours spent in the museum basement poring over records.”

I try to joke, but Lyon just looks at me, head tilted and smiles.

“No, you look exactly the same to me, like I’ve remembered you for years. Your eyes are still the most gorgeous shade of brown, you still get a tiny dimple right beside your lips on the right, and you still blush.”

Memory lane is all fine and well, I think, but this…this soft intimate sharing is a dangerous place I don’t think I can ever go with him. It brings up old feelings I locked away a long time ago when feeling them was too hard to take along with the pain of holding Mika’s hand while she cried in pain.

“We’re older now, Lyon.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, taking the chair and staring at his clasped hands where they’re clenched between his spread knees. “But you’ll always be part of me, Lay, and seeing you now, alive and well, feels so good I can’t help the memories. I am so grateful that you fought to live, Lay. You have no idea what it was like when I found you. I thought you were gone,” he croaks, clearing his throat, still not meeting my eyes.

“Trust me, Lyon, if I didn’t croak in that freezer, I was destined to make it through, no help from me. That shit was awful. You know how much I hate being cold,” I laugh, going for levity again because it’s not easy, this talking.

Not with the pain I hear in his voice.

“It’s not a joke, Lay!” he hisses, looking at me with an anger that startles me. “You were dead! You were barely breathing, and they had to keep you breathing in that ambulance while you turned so blue it was frightening. You didn’t even move when they used the paddles on you, Lay. You were just…”

“Sleeping. Just think of it as me being my usual lazy self.”

“You were gone. You were gone, and it’s a miracle that you survived it. What the fuck were you thinking, curling up in the corner like that and going to sleep? What the fuck!” he barks out, making me jump when he leaps up and starts pacing like a caged…lion.

“I was so cold, and I couldn’t—”

“What did we always tell you, Leila? What did we practice when we were planning that ski trip? You don’t just let the cold in. You move around at all times to keep your blood pumping.”

The words spark a memory of Lyon hosing me down with icy water, and my screams and curses when I sat down and curled up in a shivering ball only to leap up and turn when Hawk tossed a cooler of water from a pack of melted ice over me.

“Lyon, be reasonable! I was in there for a long time. No sane person could have kept moving,” I defend, not mentioning that I was in so much pain, mentally and physically, that I couldn’t find the strength to do anything but cry and pray for sleep to block it all out.

“But you didn’t move at all, did you, Lay? You just curled up and quit.”

“You have no idea what I went through, you self-righteous asshole! You weren’t there, Lyon. I was, and if I couldn’t follow your survival training tips, then that’s my fucking business,” I yell, groaning when my stomach twinges and a sharp arrow of pain moves through me.

He’s up instantly and grumbling as he pushes me back to the pillows, cutting off my protests with a snarl of impotent rage.

“Just stop. Stop moving and calm down.”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, Lyon Wylder. God! You piss me off so much. I forgot what an overbearing ass you can be sometimes.”

He chuckles under his breath, and the twinkling of his eyes makes me frown and huff out a frustrated breath. He always freaking did this when we were together. He’d go nuts because I wasn’t doing what he thought was right, and I’d yell and argue, and poof, the man would morph into the voice of calm reason while I was raging and feeling like a loose nut in the sanity machine, totally out of control.

“It’s all true, and you’re right. I don’t know what you went through, because I wasn’t there, and that’s on me.”

“No—”

“Yeah, it is. They took you because they were trying to get to Wolf but he was on Lori like the plague. They thought if they got to one of us, then Wolf would come running, but they never contacted me or Bear or Wolf, so I just don’t get it.”

I do. It was round about the time when I told that fat asshole that Lyon had broken up with me years ago and I hadn’t heard from him again, nor would I ever because he didn’t care and that he’d decided to cut his losses.

I also think that he wasn’t really interested in getting to Lyon, that by the time he understood his mistake, he was just enjoying himself with me. Sick loser.

“Lyon, this was no one’s fault but that asshole’s. Don’t blame yourself for something someone else did, because, you know what, it won’t change anything and it’s a moot point feeling guilty now. I’m here. I’m whole, and despite all your efforts to the contrary, I’m relatively sane still. So, just stop, okay?” I say softly, not wavering from the contact our eyes make.

Looking at him isn’t easy. Boy, is it hard, but I’m glad when I finally see his face clear and the accepting smile that blooms on his lips.

“I forgot how much of Hawk’s traits you picked up, little girl.”

“Oh puh-lease. I taught that man everything he knows about shooting straight,” I grunt, giggling at the thought of anyone, especially a little old thing like me, teaching the gruff man a thing.

“Yeah, whatever you say, shortie.”

“And really, I am fine.”

For now. Eventually, I’ll have to work through the other stuff, and maybe I won’t be so fine, but no one will ever know what I went through except maybe the doctors, but from Lyon’s lack of crazy, I suspect they didn’t tell him everything. Thank you, Jesus.

“Good. Because my family are all out in the waiting room. I told them you weren’t ready for visitors, but once they heard Mika yelling that she wants to see you, they jumped on that wagon and giddy-upped the horses,” he says ruefully.

I’m really not up to this, but one foot in front of the other, right?

“Yeah, why not? It’s not as if I have time to put on my face and have my hair done.” I grimace, touching the nest of slightly greasy strands with a grimace of distaste.

“I can hold them off and help you clean up, if you want.”

Uh nooooo.

“That’s, er, okay. I’ll just wait for someone to come later and violate my privacy,” I mumble, feeling a sting of pain at that word and pushing it away fast.

Lyon gives me a searching look, but I force a smile and wave him away with as much acting ability as I can muster. He sighs, as if he wants to say so much more, but turns and walks out.

It’s mere minutes before the door bursts open and hits the wall with a resounding bang, Mika diving for me so fast all I can do is brace and groan when she lands on me, her exuberant hug doing bad, bad things to my wounds.

“Mika! You’re gonna tear her stiches,” Lynx yells, pulling her off of me with an arm around her tiny waist.

“Oh my God! I am so sorry, Lala, so sorry! I forgot.”

“No sweat. I need that hug,” I say, wincing when a trickle of something wet seeps down my stomach.

“Oh my God, Lala, if I’d known you were there, I would have been with you. I’m so sorry,” she wails, burying her face in my neck as her tears start falling.

Once upon a time, it was her comforting me while I cried and begged her not to leave me. Now, it’s me giving her the comfort, and it sort of feels like I’ve come full circle in a way. Now, Mika and I have both known pain and imminent death. Morose, but it is what it is.

“Stop. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, how fucking creepy would it have been with you holding my dead hand?” I snort, making a few giggles fill the room.

Of course, the men don’t smile, just glare at me, but the women get it, and I share a look with a golden-haired beauty who keeps smiling at me in a strange way.

Aaah, Lori.

“That is just wrong, Lala.”

“If you say so, weirdo. Remember when you kept your hair and made me hold it in case you needed it back? That was weird. And gross.”

“It was the chemo talking, loser,” she huffs, pulling away with a giggle. “Love you, Lala.”

“Love you more. Now, move so I can meet these good people, you attention whore.”

The men do chuckle then, and I grin when Mika flips Lynx the bird and he blows her a kiss that makes Hawk scowl. A tiny little woman then decides she’s had enough and been patient enough and shoves her way towards me, her coppery skin and proud features letting me know that this is Rain Wylder.

God, am I nervous when she takes my hand and leans her forehead on it, mumbling something under her breath.

“It is good to finally meet you, Leila. I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

Aaaw, me too.

“Thanks, although I really wish I looked a little better,” I muse.

She laughs, as do Mika and a pregnant woman standing just beside one huge-looking older guy.

“You are alive, and you are beautiful. I am Rain. You will call me Mama Rain.”

“Er, okay?”

“Woman, let someone else through already.”

“Alric, you mind yourself, old man!”

“Old man my ass. You didn’t think I was so old last night when—”

Even I start humming loudly to block out his words when he grins and winks, coming in to kiss my cheek softly.

“I’m Alric Wylder, father to this motley bunch of no-goods. I am very pleased that you’re okay, Leila, and I would be honored if you called me Al.”

“Thanks, Al. I’m real glad to be alive too.”

Next is Wolf and Bear, two of the biggest men I have ever, ever seen. Bear’s a little intimidating because he has these really serious blue eyes that only really soften when he looks at his wife, Danny, and Wolf is the odd one out, the only Wylder who looks like Alric, with blond hair and green eyes.

Lori is last, and it’s when she hugs me gently and breathes raggedly into my neck that I feel tears come, an unstoppable flow that is an offering of thanks for what she did for me.

“Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me, honey. Thank you for not dying on me. It would have ruined the whole ass-kicking experience,” she says with a Texas twang I find delightful among our slow-speaking New Orleans crew.

She pulls away, and I take a minute to dry my eyes with the sheet before grinning at Tiff and Mika.

“Bet you will never visit my house again, huh?”

“Screw that. I’m bringing wine and a gun next time. See if those bastards touch us then,” Tiffany snarls, curling her lip when I laugh and give her my best Eastwood impersonation.

The only person missing is Rory, and I know I should feel guilty that I don’t care all that much. But it’s true. He wouldn’t fit in with these people, and Mika just can’t stand him. I don’t need the stress of those two arguing right now.

“Okay, folks! Time to move on out. I need to get Miss Evans settled and check her stitches,” the nurse interrupts after an hour of nonstop talking and one of the best hospital parties ever.

The Wylders all kiss me goodbye and leave with grumbled comments for the ever-smiling nurse, promising to visit tomorrow. The only one still present when I look up is Lyon, and he gives me a narrowed-eyed glare when I open my mouth to protest.

“I’m staying. We have a lot to talk about still, and besides, I don’t want to leave.”

Typical. Lyon never does what others tell him and invariably always gets his way. I’d be annoyed, but the truth is that I don’t want to be alone, and if we’re to be friends, I guess we have to start somewhere.

“You’re out while I give her a sponge bath and redo the bed,” the nurse warns.

Lyon holds up his hands in surrender, and after a kiss to my cheek, promises to be just outside the door. I’m a modest girl who swims with shorts over my bathing suit, but I can’t find a modest bone in me when she strips me and starts cleaning my grimy skin.

Her cluck when she notices a ripped stitch—thanks, Meek—is lost in my groans of thanks when she cleans me all over and removes the catheter—ouchie— before helping me over a bowl and washing my hair.

It takes over an hour, but when she leaves and Lyon stalks back in, I am clean, powdered, and my hair smells like flowers.

“Feel better?”

“Loads.”

“Good,” he says, taking the seat beside me just as the door opens and the nurse pops back in with a tray.

I am not impressed with the massive cup of chicken broth and the two crackers to go with it, but I subside and stop demanding a cheese burger when Lyon growls at me.

It’s not terrible, actually tastes really good once my stomach gets with it and snarls its thanks. I still want a burger and fries, and God, those chili cheese fries and beignets sound soooo good.

“Remember our first date?” Lyon asks, making me blink in surprise that we’re thinking the same thing.

Lord, this is so weird.

“Yeah. You made me eat so much my stomach ached all night,” I laugh, my mouth watering all over again because it did hurt. In a good way.

“Yeah right. You attacked those beignets like an animal, Lay, so stop telling that story all wrong.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t point that out, Lyon.”

“That’s okay, then, because I’m not a gentleman.” He smirks.

That is a lie. Lyon is the most honorable, gentle guy I know. He opens doors, pulls out chairs, and pretended not to notice that time I was sick and farted by accident. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment, but he just ignored it and didn’t laugh, not once.

“Huh. You are so a gentleman. Look at the way you keep avoiding the way my hair looks.”

It may be clean, but it’s a rat’s nest of snarls that I wouldn’t let the nurse comb out because she’s Attila with that comb.

Lyon grins, and before I know it, he’s shifted me forward and running the comb through my hair gently. He used to do this a lot because I had the nasty habit of only doing a quick yank-through when I was in a hurry, and he said he feared I’d be bald at that rate.

It was the little things he did that made us so good together, and it gives me a sharp stab of pain just recalling how great we were before it all went so wrong.

Friends, Leila. Friends.

“Thank you,” I whisper when he’s all done and I feel all the way human again.

“No sweat, Lay. Now, we talk.”

Agh, I don’t want to talk. Why can’t we just sit together for a while in silence and just enjoy the company? Because even when we were together, we were never silent. It was all talking or sex, or him taking me places or me running around at a frantic pace.

The only time we didn’t go at breakneck speed was when I was sick and then only because I was sleeping all the time. Now…it’s just awkward, and I hate that.

“Lyon, don’t, please.”

“Don’t what? Say all the things I have wanted to say for eight years? Lay—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters. It was a long time ago, Lyon, and we’ve both moved on from college. I’m with someone now, and you’re…it’s just too late to say things that don’t matter, and you know what, I don’t need to hear anything. We can be friends, and I would really like to have you and Hawk and Lynx back in my life because I missed…the friendship,” I say lamely, avoiding his searching eyes.

“Friends?”

“It’s all we can have, so don’t you dare look at me that way. I have a boyfriend, and I…love him. I won’t hurt him, and I won’t hurt you either. Whatever you’re thinking, you need to stop, because that is all done,” I say with a hardness I don’t feel.

Lyon grimaces and looks away at the cold hard truth of my words. It would be so easy to look at him and be swept away by the memories, try to recapture what we had, but the truth is that I am not that Leila anymore.

I’ve been alone too long with only Meek as my sidekick, and it’s only really in this past year that I took a look at my life and decided to stop waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.

I have truly moved on now, and I won’t look back again. It’s forward only, and if Lyon is going to be in the picture, we will both have to look at the way things are and forge something different.

“I know. And I don’t deserve a second chance. I’m happy if you’re happy, Lay. That’s all that matters to me. We didn’t end right, and under the circumstances, I don’t know that we could have made it. I was in a really bad place back then, and I wasn’t—but I always treasured your friendship, and if that’s all I can have, then I’ll be grateful and take it.”

His softly spoken words are kind and right and just what I need to hear, and yet they’re not. I must be a total nutter, probably insane here where I’m sitting, but I’m disappointed because I wanted so badly, so badly in this tiny corner of my mind to hear him say no.

I wanted that old Lyon, the one who tracked me down and laughed unrepentantly at my shock when I opened the door and saw him there despite giving him a bad number and no way to find me.

That Lyon was brazen and uncaring of obstacles, never willing to accept the word no unless I really, really meant it, and even then, it was only ever in relation to my well-being, he was this stubborn.

It’s painful to see that some of the fire I once loved so much is gone, replaced by this older version who is mature and looks so lonely.

But it’s for the best. I know this, so instead of crying, I take his hand and squeeze, the contact a comfort when all I really want to do is throw myself at him and tell him he can have whatever he wants as long as he’s with me.

Because as dangerous as he is to my heart, he’s always made me feel safe and protected.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Lyon.”

“Me too, Lay. Me too. Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”