Page 91 of Layla

Buried deep within my anger and hurt is something else, something I don’t even want to think about because it makes my chest hurt so badly. The expression on John’s face when he woke up and realized that he had grabbed me in his sleep. The terror I had seen there. The absolute disgust. I knew in that instant that all of that disgust was directed at himself.

Wherever John is, he’s hurting. And apparently, I’m still stupidly in love enough to care because the thought of that man sad and hating on himself makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Like I said, I’m a damn fool.

Someone nudges my arm. “You coming?” Dylan asks, looking concerned. I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. He must be able to read it in my face because he frowns. “To lunch? We’re thinking that sushi place down the street you like.”

I swallow, trying to collect myself. I don’t really feel like having lunch with them today. I’m too mixed up and pissed off about everything. But the alternative isn’t too enticing either—sitting in a hotel room alone while Sean hovers outside the door.

“Sushi sounds great,” I finally say, managing to hold back my sigh. Even so, Dylan continues to frown at me as we make our way outside.

“Hey, Sean,” James says when we find him waiting in the lobby. “You on duty today?”

“Lucky me,” he says, eyes darting to my face.

“Youarelucky,” Dylan tells him. “We’re going to get sushi and Louis is paying.”

“I heard that,” Lou calls from the room behind us.

James glances around the lobby, his forehead scrunched as if in thought. “Huh. You know, I think this is the first time I haven’t seen John at a band event since he came on board. Did that dude finally take a day off?”

Immediately I feel the force of Lance’s gaze on the side of my face. And then Dylan’s, too. Both of them are watching me, wary. I sigh, keeping my gaze trained on the floor. I am not talking about this. With either of them.

“We’re just moving staff around a little now that we’re back in LA,” Sean says smoothly, not giving anything away.Thank God for small favors,I think to myself, following the rest of them out into the bright LA sunshine and wincing a little when Sean moves to stand behind me. But they don’t seem to notice because Haylee is talking about the Vegas trip again. “And then Levi and Karen totally shocked everyone by eloping the next night! Just out of nowhere! It was so crazy.”

“Man,” Dylan says. “Levi too?” He sighs. “Another one bites the dust.”

“Hang on,” Lance interjects. “Was this before or after James puked his guts out all over Levi?”

“Wait, what?” Dylan squeals—actually squeals like a little kid who just found out Christmas came early. “You puked in front of the Ransomes? This isamazing.”

“It was at Cash’s bachelor party,” Lance says. “So they all saw it. Just because they tried to make him go on a little carnival ride.”

“It was a fucking death trap!” James cries. “The thing was on top of a skyscraper!” He glares at Haylee. “And that was not information you were supposed to share withLance.”

“Oh, she didn’t tell me,” Lance says easily. “She did tell your sister, however, and since I’m sleeping with your sister…”

At the sound of James’s growl, Haylee turns to me, grinning, and I realize belatedly that I’m supposed to be enjoying this ragging on our bassist. I plaster a smile on my face but I’m not sure if she bought it—she’s looking decidedly less gleeful when she turns back.

I’m relieved when we reach the sushi place, needing a distraction from the mess inside my head. I probably shouldn’t have come out. I’m clearly in no shape for company. We find a table in the back and I try not to notice the way Sean hovers behind me.

Clearly wanting to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing interlude in Vegas, James spends the first half of our meal dissecting the set list for the first LA show. It’s a relief—when James gets going on set lists, there’s no reason for anyone else to talk much at all.

But then Haylee gets a text that puts an end to my brief respite. She glances down at her screen and giggles—she actually giggles. And Haylee Hunt does not giggle.

“Oh, God,” Dylan groans, pointing at her. “What did Lennon do now?”

“Don’t tell me,” Lance says. “You guys eloped in Vegas too?”

A cold sliver of fear runs down my back. Would Haylee get married without telling me? I can’t imagine that she would. But stranger things have happened when people are drinking in Vegas, and if Lennon’s brother and best friend both tied the knot I guess I can see him getting inspired.

Across the table, her eyes go wide. “Of course we didn’t elope in Vegas. You think I would get married without Layla? Are you high?”

The rush of relief I feel is swift and overwhelming. I actually feel my eyes sting with tears. Shit. I am not going to cry in front of the entire band in a fucking sushi restaurant.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Dylan mutters. Haylee says something back but I don’t really make it out—I’m too busy trying not to lose my shit over here. I keep my eyes locked on the table, their conversation swirling around me.

“Lennon did surprise me with something,” she goes on, excitement in her voice now.