Page 56 of Layla

I snap my attention up to his face, narrowing my eyes at his tone. “I don’t need a lecture, Lance. I get enough of that shit from Louis.” And from John.

He doesn’t look at all abashed. “I know how you are, Layla.”

Now I’m getting pissed. “And how am I, Lance?”

To my surprise, he smiles for the first time since he sat down. “You’re a wild child, baby girl. A wild child who hates being told what to do.” His smile grows, stretching out across his cheeks in that familiar way. “This must be driving you fucking crazy.”

“I’ve had better months,” I growl, and he laughs before his expression sobers.

“But youarelistening, even if it pisses you off? You’re doing what they tell you?”

“Why the hell do you think I stayed in last night?”

He nods, clearly lost in thought. I wait for him to speak again, imagining he’ll say something sympathetic and encouraging that will only annoy me. Instead, his eyes are hard when he fixes them on my face.

“Why haven’t we talked about this?”

“You and me?”

He shakes his head. “All of us. Why haven’t you told the band?”

I gape at him. “I’m sorry, were you around when Haylee melted down for two fucking years because she had a stalker? Because I remember it very clearly.”

He looks pissed. “Of course, I remember it. I also remember that she’s your best friend, Layla. She’s your fucking family. We all are. How in the hell do you keep this from us?”

My fingers clench, crumpling the edge of the magazine I’m still clutching. “Excuse me for not wanting to send Haylee into another series of panic attacks and binges—”

“Haylee has been fine,” he argues. “She’s doing great.”

Yeah, well,doing greatdoesn’t always last. And no one knows that better than me.

“I don’t want her worrying.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe instead of worrying about how she’d react to this news now, you should worry about how she’ll react when she finds out about itlater—and finds out that you kept it from her. Because I think that will be a much bigger shit show.”

“She doesn’t ever need to know.” My voice is too loud. James is looking at us from across the room. Haylee is still talking to Cliff and the tech, but she’s only a few yards away. I need to get this shit under control. “They’re going to catch this guy, Lance. The detective in New York called the feds after the last—”

He holds up a hand. “What happened in New York?”

I look away. Fuck. Why didn’t I just lie when I had the chance?

But Lance is too smart to be put off. His eyes widen. “That club? The one we got dragged out of? Haylee said a fan got too close to you and John overreacted.”

“He was there,” I whisper. “He took pictures of me on the dance floor and sent them to my phone.”

Lance’s eyes bug out. “He got your phone number?”

I shrug. He’d gotten the one before that, too.

“Fuck, Layla. He was close enough to take pictures?”

“It was fine,” I shoot back. “John was with me the whole time.”

He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell us about this.” I can’t read the expression on his face. He doesn’t look pissed, not exactly. Then it registers. He’s hurt. “We’re supposed to be a family.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you please not get all cheesy on me? Leave that shit to Dylan.”

Lance’s fingers clench against his jeans. “Dylan is going to befuriouswhen he finds out you didn’t tell him about this.”