Page 66 of Layla

Louis ignores the suggestion. “They’re going to follow you around while you do a charity appearance instead.”

James immediately looks grumpy. “So, you’re going to use a charity to make us look good for the reporter?” he asks. “Do you realize what an asshole move that is?”

Louis holds his gaze. “Do you realize that half the point of celebrity appearances at charity events is to draw attention to the charity in question?”

James continues to scowl. “I still don’t like—”

Dylan smirks. “Color me surprised that something Louis wants us to do offends James’s precious moral code.”

“Look, just because I—”

Louis holds up his hands. “This isn’t up for discussion,” he snaps. “In fact, we’re already running late. The vans are outside.”

I pull up my walkie to ask for an update from my guy outside. “Small crowd,” Sean replies. “Under control.”

I nod at Louis and he gets the band up and moving, Dylan complaining that he wanted seconds on the pancakes. Layla passes right in front of me and doesn’t meet my eyes. I pull up the walkie again as I step into place behind them, giving her space. “I’m gonna follow behind with Sean,” I tell Eddie. “You go ahead in the van with the band.”

“Got it.”

Maybe space is exactly what we both need right now.

Sean drives while I look over the schedule for the day. I’m not familiar with the name of the organization they’ll be visiting—Brighter Chances—but it’s nearby. I would have preferred to have the chance to get in there and do a sweep before they arrived, but I try to push the worry away. It’s a charity, for fuck’s sake. Besides, I have plenty of other shit to be worried about today.

The van pulls up to the curb in front of a brightly painted building and I’m up and out of the car before their doors even open, sweeping my gaze up and down the sidewalk. There are no fans gathered here—Louis must have wanted to keep this one under wraps. I nod at Eddie through the passenger window of the van and he hops out to get the door for the band. Dylan and Lance are ragging on James about something while Haylee snorts behind them. Only Layla doesn’t look amused. Her face is pinched, eyes down. She’s exhausted, I realize, a surge of guilt rushing through me.

I’m supposed to be taking care of her and instead I’m making everything so much worse.

“So, what is this place?” Dylan asks, looking up at the building’s facade. His eyes widen at the sign and then his gaze flicks to Layla.

“Brighter Chances,” Louis says, his gaze also on Layla’s downturned face. “A foster care organization.”

Layla’s head snaps up, her eyes wide. “What?”

“They provide recreation activities for kids in foster care,” he explains, his voice more gentle than normal. “And they organize meet-up events with prospective adoptive families.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the others glancing back and forth between Layla and Louis, who seem to be locked in a stare-off. Finally, the corner of her lip tugs up, almost a smile. “What are we waiting for?”

The others visibly relax as they follow Louis up to the front door. It swings open to reveal a middle-aged woman dressed in jeans and t-shirt. “Welcome!” she says, opening the door wider. “We’re so happy to have you today!”

I hesitate before following them inside. I should probably keep an eye on things out here, let Sean and Eddie go in and give Layla some space. But there was something in her eyes just now that makes me want to follow. I remember what she told me about her upbringing in her room that night—and everything she hadn’t said. I knew some of it from researching her, but from her heavy silences I knew that there was a lot more to her story. And that it hadn’t been a happy one. I can’t help but wonder if this is going to be difficult for her. And that makes me want to stay as close to her as I can.

You’re making this worse,I tell myself. But I can’t seem to help myself as I follow them inside.

“I’m Beth Hilton,” the woman is saying. “The executive director here.” With her casual dress, she certainly doesn’t look like an executive. But then, nothing about this place really matches my expectations. The walls are painted in bright yellows and blues and covered in framed finger-painted pictures and photos of kids playing.

I know that these cheery details are masking a lot of pain for the kids that come here, but at least the place doesn’t have that depressing institutional feel I’ve seen in so many group homes over the years.

“We have the kids gathered in the common room,” Beth is explaining. “I figured I would introduce you and then maybe you can answer some of their questions?”

“That sounds good,” Haylee says.

Beth flashes her a grin. “That’s just because you don’t know these kids—they can talk your ear off given half the chance. They have alotof questions.”

“I think Lance knows something about that,” Layla says, grinning as she pokes him with an elbow. It’s the most at ease I’ve seen her in days and my chest constricts at her teasing expression.

Lance rolls his eyes. “I have a seven-year-old,” he tells Beth.

“Then you know all about how inquisitive they can be at that age,” she says. “But I’ll try to keep them from getting too out of control. I know they’d like to have time to hang out with you guys, too. We’ve got video games and stuff for sports, a bunch of toys. Cards and board games.”