Not that I’ll hold my breath, waiting for him to call about the nonprofit job or to ask to see me again. I’m the one who said “just for tonight” like an idiot. How was I supposed to know the sex would be so good with him that I would want more?
I quickly close the window and lock it. I leave my bedside lamp on, climbing into bed with a book in case someone stops by my room. By now, they may have seen the light on, so I can’t pretend I’m asleep.
“Lyla?” my grandma’s voice calls softly right before my bedroom door opens.
“Yeah?”
“You’re still awake?” Grandma Perry asks before she finally steps into view in her now wrinkled dark green dress. When she gasps at the sight of me, I panic for a second, worried that she just looked at me and was able to tell that I had a man in my room tonight. Why I care, I’m not sure. Most girls lose their virginity in high school. As long as I’m living at home, though, I’m going to continue to feel like a child.
“What happened to your face?”
Oh, right. That.
“I fell. Twisted my ankle on the damn rocks in the fairground parking lot. It’s nothing.”
“What about your ankle? Is it swollen? Do we need to take you for X-rays?” she asks, ripping the covers off my legs before I can stop her.
“Oh, it’s fine. It was more like the heel of my shoe shifted. You know how it is on rocks.”
Giving up on the ankle, she looks at my scraped face and bandage again. “Did you hit your head?”
“No. Just a few scrapes. I’m fine.”
What else can I tell her? That I thought some random creep was after me?
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” she says. She sweeps a strand of the bright red hair behind my shoulder. “I was wondering why you left so early and without saying goodbye.”
“I was tired and didn’t have my glasses. Maybe that’s why I lost my balance.”
“Right. Well, try to get some sleep.”
“You too. It’s been a big day. You must be exhausted.”
“Oh, I am,” she agrees with a smile. “But everything turned out so nice for Laurel. Fingers crossed this marriage lasts longer than the first one,” she says as she raises her twisted fingers in the air.
“Fingers crossed.”
What would she say if I told her I just had sex with my sister’s first husband?
Barrett
Guilty feelings thoroughly beaten down, I’m like a brand-new man as I gather up my discarded shirt and cut from the yard and put them both back on.
God, I missed sex.
It’s better than I remember.
Or maybe it’s just better with Lyla.
My good mood is only slightly spoiled at the reminder that she’s the sister of the only other woman I’ve ever had sex with.
I should feel guiltier about that, but it’s impossible right this second.
I’ll deal with it later.
I make my way around the house, walking as softly as a two-hundred-and-ten-pound man can through the grass while pulling out my phone. I’m going to need a ride home. This late at night, there’s no telling how long I’ll have to wait for someone to come pick me up.
I won’t be doing it right outside the Perrys’ house either but a few houses up or maybe at the nearby gas station.
My boots hit the asphalt of the road, and I think I’m home free.
That’s when I hear the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
I’m in deep shit now. And damn, he’s a sneaky son of a bitch.
“What the fuck were you doing in my house?” the voice I recognize as Isaac Perry’s asks. “And if you want to live, don’t you dare say my baby daughter.”
Holding my arms up, palms flat so he can see I don’t have any weapons in them, I turn around slowly.
My ex-wife’s father looks the same as he did the last time I saw him about five years ago, maybe a little more gray in his short brown hair and full beard. He wasn’t happy with me when Laurel insisted on marrying me after just two months. Today, he’s even angrier with his gun pointed at the center of my face.
“Mr. Perry, sir, I don’t want to disrespect you here, so what exactly do you want me to say?” I always try to be as polite as possible when speaking to men with pointed guns.
“That you were here spying on me or plotting shit for the MC.”
“Won’t that make it worse?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he responds.
Great. This is a no-win situation.
“Look, if you’re gonna shoot me, then do it. Just remember, I have three brothers who will want revenge.”
A door opens from somewhere at the house, probably in the open garage door that I now notice in the dark.
“Isaac?” a voice that is most likely Pamela Perry, Lyla’s grandmother, calls out. I know she’s lived with the family since their mother died, trying to help out her son.
When the angry father doesn’t immediately answer, the floodlight over the garage comes on, illuminating the entire yard, including me and Perry.
“Isaac, what are you…oh my lord! What in the world is going on out here?” his mother asks.
“I’m handling it. Go back inside, Mom.”
“No, Isaac. Put the gun down,” she demands as she comes closer. Eyes narrowing at me, she asks, “Who is…Barrett Fulton, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good seeing you again, son, but it’s late. Could you two maybe do this whole standoff thing tomorrow?”
“I’m pretty sure ole Barrett here already got what he came for,” Isaac replies.
“What do you mean?”
“How drunk are you, woman?” he scoffs. “I caught him sneaking out of Lyla’s window!”
“Oh! Well, no wonder Ly looked so keyed up.”
“Keyed up? That’s all you got to say after this hooligan defiled your youngest granddaughter?”
“Did you forget that Lyla is twenty-one, not twelve? She’s not a little girl anymore, Isaac.”
“I don’t care how old she is! If she’s going to live under my roof, there won’t be any assholes like him coming and going like it’s a goddamn brothel.”
“Isaac James Perry!”
The man winces like he knows he’s in deep shit with his mother when she uses his full name. Gritting his teeth together so hard I can hear them grinding, he says to me, “You’ve got ten seconds to get the fuck off my property.”
“So sorry about this and everything else, Barrett,” Pamela Perry yells to me.
“I didn’t mean to cause any problems for Lyla,” I reply as I start walking backward down the road to keep an eye on Isaac.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lyla
I’ve just turned off my bedside lamp to try and cozy down in the sheets to get some sleep when my bedroom door bursts open so hard it bangs against the wall.
I pop up into a sitting position right when the overhead lights flip on. My father storms into my room wearing wrinkled dress pants and his cut over a white dress shirt. His face is red, and he looks angry enough to breathe fire. My grandmother is right behind him.