Chapter 1
LAYLA
The muted hum of conversation drifted around me with few actual words filtering through. The clamor of sound reached my ears as though through water; appropriate, since I felt like I was drowning. The soft suede of my nan’s couch underneath my fingertips offered much needed support as I grasped anything remotely familiar, drifting as I was on a sea of loss.
“Did you hear me, Miss West?”
The lawyer’s impatient tone implied he’d spoken more than once.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said it’s yours. The house.”
“This house?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing around the home my nan had retired to over a decade ago in Hawthorne, Nevada.
“This house,” he affirmed. “Now if you’ll just sign the papers.” He held what looked like a small novel out for my perusal.
I stared down at the stack of paperwork and back up at him in bewilderment. “My nan just died,” I whispered. “We were just at the cemetery,” I continued, pointing out the obvious. “I don’t even, I can’t even….”
“Marty, why don’t you get a beer and give Layla a freaking second to breathe,” a familiar voice ordered as Emmie Jackson slid in next to me and wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I muttered gratefully to the woman who’d started as my nan’s nurse and had become a friend in recent months.
“He’s a shark,” she grumbled irritably, glaring at Marty’s back as he made his way hastily toward the kitchen. “He went to high school with us and was never the brightest bulb.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure how he managed to become a lawyer, to be honest.”
I wasn’t surprised he’d jumped to her command. One thing I’d learned about Emmie—and it hadn’t taken long—was that she was respected and well-known. Her brother was the president of the Knights Motorcycle Club, and though I didn’t know much about the club other than that the few men I’d seen were easy on the eyes, anyone paying the slightest attention could tell they ran things in the town of Hawthorne.
“My nan, she left me the house,” I shared through numb lips.
She gave me a gentle squeeze before dropping her arm. “Are you surprised?” Her gaze drifted to my five-year-old daughter on the opposite couch watching a show on my iPad. “She wanted what’s best for you and Riley.”
I bit my lip as the reality of my situation hit me hard. My nan and I had been close. Though we lived in different states, we talked frequently, and Riley and I had visited as often as we could. “She’s really gone.” Even saying it out loud, I still didn’t entirely believe it.
“Yeah, she is,” Em acknowledged gently. “But she left you with options. You’ve said things haven’t been ideal in San Francisco. Maybe a change of scenery is exactly what you both need.”
A change of scenery and financial security—the latter my top priority for Riley and something we didn’t have nearly enough of in San Francisco.
Leave it to Nan to give me a nudge from beyond the grave. I nearly smiled at the thought.
“The girls and I will help,” she added, referring to her close group of friends who were more like family and all associated with the club somehow.
“Em, they barely know me,” I protested.
She rolled her eyes. “Please. They know you enough to know they like you. Who wouldn’t? You’re awesome, Layla. We’ll always welcome another kick-ass female into the tribe. Plus, then we get Riley.” She grinned affectionately. The two had developed a tight bond over the past few months.
“She’s not up for grabs.” I laughed for the first time in days.
She looked at me, her eyes warm. “But you’re a package deal.”
I nodded, acknowledging what had been true for the past two years, when I’d turned from Riley’s aunt to her adopted mother. “We are,” I agreed softly, looking over at her and feeling my chest expand with pure love, a love that had only grown since we’d become an us.
“I can have Gunner look over the paperwork,” she offered, referring to one of the guys in the club I’d met once in passing. “He’s good with lawyer shit.”
“Anybody’s better than me,” I muttered. “That would be great.”
I wasn’t about to turn away help, not now.
“What else can I do?” she asked gently.
“Um, get rid of all these people?” I pleaded, looking around the room at the sea of unfamiliar faces. My nan had been popular in town. With her big personality and quick wit, it was no surprise so many people wanted to pay their respects. But it was Riley’s bedtime and if I was being honest, mine too.
She stood up with a nod that, through seeing her in her element at the hospital, I knew meant business. “Done.”
True to her word, people almost immediately began filtering out, some coming to share their condolences one more time. I tried to force some semblance of being put together, to remember names or, hell, at least a face or two but it was all just an endless wave of numbness.
Finally, when the house was blissfully empty, I curled up next to my girl.
“Time to turn it off, baby,” I told her quietly, pulling the iPad from her lap.
She looked up as though surprised to find an empty house. The way she could zone out so completely was mildly terrifying and why I limited her screen time, but on a day like today, I was grateful she could. “Everyone is gone?”
“Yeah, honey. Time for bed. Let’s get you changed.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “We’re staying here?”
Maybe forever. I kept that thought to myself as I pulled her into my arms, intent on carrying her up the stairs.
“But Nan’s not here,” she confirmed.
“That’s right, baby,” I replied around the lump in my throat.
“Because she’s dead?” she asked. At five, Riley didn’t understand how to sidestep a question or to frame it gently; it was refreshing most of the time. But now, when I was exhausted down to my bones, her blunt question made my eyes prick with tears. “Yeah, baby, Nan’s in heaven,” I reminded her.
The idea of death wasn’t something we’d talked about before, and she was clearly still trying to understand what it meant.
Hell, weren’t we all?
“Right.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Will I see her in the morning?”
I cleared my throat, trying not to show my emotion. “No, honey. Let’s brush your teeth.”
Thankfully, she was too tired to keep asking questions as I got her ready for bed, tucking her into the guest room Nan had decorated just for her.
“Oscar!” Riley squealed when Nan’s albino cat appeared from under the bed. The cat was deaf, had been since birth, and not a fan of crowds or people in general. He’d disappeared when the first guests had begun to arrive that afternoon.
Not that I blamed him.
He jumped on the bed, his purr like a small motor as he curled up next to Riley. She seemed to be the only exception he made to his whole anti-person stance.
“Night, baby,” I whispered as her eyelids drooped. It had been a long, confusing day.