Worth The Battle (Heaven Hill Series) (26 page)

Liam pulled the hammer back on the gun he held in his hand. “Do you want me to end it now, or do you at least want to try to figure out what these guys want? It makes absolutely no difference to me.”

“I want to figure out what they want,” he spat out between gritted teeth.

He yanked the phone out of Liam’s hand and dialed a number. He waited mere seconds before he began speaking. “Dino? This is Thomas, I wanna set up that meeting.”

In seconds it was over, and Thomas threw the phone down. “Tomorrow evening.”

Liam disengaged the gun and put it away. “Then we’ll be in touch. Do you feel safe here tonight on your own?”

“No way in hell.” He shook his head.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rooster said from where he stood off to the side. “I’m quite interested in the secrets that are hiding in this house.”

“Aren’t you the sheriff?” Thomas asked, his brows coming together in question.

“Sheriff’s deputy, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m gonna keep you safe tonight.”

Layne didn’t understand any of this, why was Rooster here, what did he have to do with all this? He wanted to ask so many questions, but he didn’t want to disrespect his pres either. He’d already disappointed and pissed off enough people for the night; he didn’t want to do any more.

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Ty—you gonna take care of this guy?” Liam asked as he kicked the prone, beat-up man on the floor.

“Will do, I’ll see y’all back at the clubhouse.”

That made Layne feel like shit. Someone else was going to have to clean up his mess. He was moody, irritable, and just wanted to be away from the whole group, away from Jessica, away from his feelings. This was another part of the PTSD he hated, he hated feeling one minute like he was on top of the world and the next like he was the dog shit on someone’s shoe. The pills they had originally given him at the VA had helped with this part of it, but they made him feel like such a damn zombie that he knew he couldn’t continue to take them. It was in times like this that he admitted to himself that all he wanted was his life back, the life that he had before he’d gone to war. This was the time he admitted that the worst thing he had ever done was join the military.

“You okay?” Jagger asked. He had watched quietly as the look in Layne’s eyes became wilder, it was obvious he was drifting into a part of his memories that he didn’t like.

“Yeah, just need to get out of here. It’s making me nervous,” Layne blew it off with a small tilt of his lips.

The rest of the group had already started to walk out, yet he stood there, his back to the wall.

“We can leave, you know.”

“I know,” Layne cleared his throat. “I just can’t make my legs move.” What had happened here? Why was he literally paralyzed with anxiety all of a sudden?

Jagger could see the panic rising in his friend. Cautiously, he reached over and clasped his hand around Layne’s wrist. “This good?”

Layne nodded, not saying another word.

Very slowly, Jagger pulled him away from the wall and walked him towards the back of the house and out the back door. Once they broke the doorway, he felt Layne’s body physically relax and heard a deep breath flow through his system.

“Were you holding your breath?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Layne ran his hands down his cut and then back up over his head, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “That’s never happened before.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“No fuckin’ idea, man. We did some house raids in Iraq, though. One or two of them turned hairy, and I felt a little weird going in, but I thought I was fine up until I couldn’t move. It flips on like a switch and that’s what I fuckin’ hate.”

Jagger didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Layne would want to hear, and he didn’t want to discount anything about the situation. If he came on too strong then it would probably piss Layne off, and if he didn’t come on strong enough then it would probably embarrass Layne, so all he did was place a hand on Layne’s shoulder and give it a hard squeeze. “You need anything else, you let me know.”

Those words, more than anything, seemed to fill a hole inside of Layne. It made him feel not so damaged. It wasn’t even the words that his friend had said to him, it was the way he said them. No judgment, no pity. They were just words spoken between two friends that were having a conversation. Layne had never felt more appreciative in his life to have this group of men in his everyday existence. The feelings that he felt scared him, but for one of the first times in a long time, he thought with the help of these guys and possibly Jessica he would be okay.

Chapter Twenty-Six

T
he next morning, Layne woke up with a mission. He quietly let himself out of his dorm and successfully walked himself out of the clubhouse without a lot of people seeing him. Late last night, he had texted Doc Jones and let her know that he needed to talk to her. That it was important. She had immediately texted him back and told him that she could see him first thing in the morning. That had been all he needed to hear. He knew that he needed to see the Doc before he even saw Jessica again, he needed to get his head wrapped around all the fucked up shit that was going on inside it.

The ride to the old farmhouse was relaxing. He really did love the ride and the scenery that lead out to the office she used. It calmed him down; just liked he had hoped it would. Before long, he was pulling onto the gravel drive. Before he had even fully parked and gotten off the bike, the front door to the house was open, and the Doc stood on the front porch.

“Mornin’, Layne,” she called out, a cup of coffee in her hands. “I think it’s going to be a beautiful day, hot as hell, but beautiful.”

It made him smile to hear her curse, even if it was just the word “hell”. He let the side of his mouth tilt up as he walked up the steps. “Yes ma’am, it does look to be a beautiful scorcher.”

He held the door open for her as they made their way inside.

“You want some coffee, Layne? I have homemade cinnamon rolls too.”

The smell of the fresh-baked pastry hit his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal like that in a very long time. Not since he was small and lived with his grandparents. “That almost smells like my grandmother made it,” he admitted as he walked over to the stove and then bent down, inhaling the sweetness.

“Take one,” she encouraged him. “We’ll eat it out here and drink our coffee before we even begin the session. I don’t have anybody else until the middle of the afternoon.”

He wondered if he should do this, if she was trying to get into his head with a home-cooked breakfast and a cup of coffee. Then he realized just how suspicious that sounded and immediately felt bad. What if she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart and he hurt her feelings? Without another thought, he grabbed two and set them on a plate she had next to the cookie sheet.

“You want coffee or orange juice?” she asked, holding the coffee pot up along with a plastic bottle of the orange stuff.

“Orange juice, if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t do nectar of the gods, huh?” she teased. “We couldn’t be in a long-term relationship.”

He puffed out a breath on a small laugh. “It tears my stomach up. I used to try to drink it when I was at boot camp because it was a different choice than water, but then I’d end up in the fuckin’ bathroom and in trouble. I learned real quick that I have the food palette of a four-year-old,” he smiled. A real smile.

She laughed along with him. “I wish I had a camera so that I could take a picture of that smile that just came across your face, Layne. Now I know why Jessica couldn’t say no to you.” She said it softly, so that she didn’t scare or spook him.

Usually words like that would cause him to tense up, but in this setting, it was okay. “Believe it or not, back in my day…” he laughed when she frowned at him.

“You are not an old man! Don’t even start talking about ‘back in my day’.”

“Back in my day, I was a bit of a ladies man. There weren’t many women that ever said no to me if I put my mind to having them on my arm, in my bed, whatever. They usually just came running.”

“That’s sick, Layne.” She had a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for him to do the same.

He took his cut off and took the seat she indicated, placing his napkin in his lap before he took a bite of the cinnamon roll.

She watched him closely. He had excellent manners. Unlike most men, he didn’t shove the food in his mouth and then chew with his mouth open because it was hot or he’d taken too big a bite. He chewed quietly, slowly, methodically.

“It wasn’t sick,” he said after he swallowed. “They wanted me,” he shrugged. “I took what they offered.”

“Were you a ladies man from a young age?”

“I don’t know.” His face flamed red. Now that they were talking about it, he was embarrassed about the words he’d said to her. “Women just seemed to like me.”

Doc Jones took a drink of her coffee and then set it down on the table, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. She cocked her head to the side and cut her eyes at him. “I call bullshit on you, Layne O’Connor. Are you gonna be honest with me or not?”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed.

She watched as he took a drink of his orange juice and politely wiped his mouth.

“When I was younger—a teenager—I lived with my grandparents.”

“Where were you parents?” she interrupted, but this didn’t feel like a session, it felt like she really wanted to know, as someone who wanted to have a conversation with him.

“Mom and Dad had me young, real young. Mom was fifteen years old and Dad was sixteen. I have a few memories of the two of them, but they just couldn’t handle a life with a young child. They were married for two years, from what I understand, and then they got divorced. I can distinctly remember living with my mom until I was about thirteen years old,” he continued.

She sat with her chin on her hand, engrossed in his story. “What happened at thirteen?”

“Mom and I always lived in shithole dives. Like, I can’t remember one good one. We lived in small apartments, run-down houses, and a couple of drafty trailers. When I was thirteen, it took a turn for the worse. She had gotten mixed up with this boyfriend who I couldn’t stand, and he’d moved us into a house just off of Main Street.”

Doc Jones grimaced. That was not a great area of town, and back then it had been even worse.

“We didn’t have a bed that actually had a frame or box springs; I slept on a mattress on the floor. The mattress was a piece of shit. I may as well have just slept on the floor. I remember it was January or February and it was fuckin’ cold. I mean cold as hell, so cold that I couldn’t get warm in the house. I had a horrible cough; I can still remember that cough to this day. She finally broke down and took me to the emergency room. There, they called in CPS because I had bites all over my feet. We had mice in the house, and sleeping so close to the floor wasn’t the best thing to do.”

He stopped then and looked at the other woman. “Do not feel sorry for me,” he threatened.

“I swear to you I won’t, but my God, boy…you’ve been through it.”

“Mom took off when they called CPS, and they asked me if I had anybody else to stay with. Dad was in jail at that point, and I mentioned his name. They knew him and said that I couldn’t go stay with him. They asked me one more time if I knew of anybody; if not, they said I would have to go with the social worker. So I mentioned my grandparents, but it had been over a year since I had seen them.”

“Was this your mom’s parents or your dad’s?”

He took another bite of his cinnamon roll and another drink of his orange juice. “My mom’s. I still don’t know why we went that whole year without seeing them, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve figured it’s because she knew I looked so damn bad. I can look at a few pictures from when I first came to live with my grandparents, and I looked like the sickest kid ever. Anyway, miracle of all miracles, Mamaw and Papaw still had the same phone number they’d had before, and they answered on the second ring. They came to hospital and took me home in Papaw’s old beat-up truck, and I never lived anywhere besides with them after that.”