Page 93 of Layla

I nod. “They thought it would be good to have someone close to me all the time.”

“Those appearances you missed,” James says. “That night you left the club so quickly…”

I just shrug. “John didn’t feel like it was safe for me.”

“Fuck,” James mutters, his hands clenched on the table.

I realize, with a sinking stomach, that Haylee hasn’t said a word. I finally chance a glance at her and feel sick when I see everything I was worried about in her expression. She’s gone completely pale, and she’s staring at me with what I’m sure is shock and fear. “Hay—”

Her eyes narrow, just a bit. “How long?”

“I…what?”

Each word is ground out through clenched teeth. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few…weeks. Months, I guess. A few months.”

All of a sudden, her shock and fear gives way to an expression I’m very familiar with on her—she lookspissed. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Hay.”

She slams her hand down on the table so loud that diners around us jump in their seats. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

“Haylee.”

“Stop talking,” she snarls. “I cannot believe you didn’t think I could handle this.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“It’s obviously what you were thinking!”

I’ve seen Haylee pissed off plenty of times. The girl has a temper and touring pretty much guarantees we’re going to get on each other’s nerves more often than not.

But I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen her quite this mad.

I take a deep breath. “I didn’t want to bring back any bad memories.”

She makes a scathing noise. “It never occurred to you that maybe I was the best person to help you with this? That I’m the only person in your life who would actually understand what this feels like?”

That has me snapping my mouth closed, no response coming to mind.

“And even if I didn’t have that experience,” she goes on. “You are not supposed to keep shit like this from your family, Layla!”

Suddenly I feel the short reign I have on my own temper snapping. “Excuse me for not wanting to be responsible for your next fucking spiral, Haylee! I think I’ve seen you in the ER enough for one lifetime.”

“Layla!” James snaps, but the rest of the table goes completely still.

“Fuck,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed and—”

“You meant it,” Haylee says just as softly. “Of course you did. You don’t trust me to be able to handle my shit when things get hard.”

I have never felt lower in my life. “That’s not it—”

She offers a humorless smile. “I can’t really blame you. I had more than my share of meltdowns because I was afraid.” Then she leans toward me until I’m forced to meet her eye. “But here’s the thing, Layla. My story didn’t end in an ER or a morgue. I got better. I got stronger. I got through that shit and I’m not the same person I was.”

God, I’m such a piece of shit. “I know that! I’m so proud of you, Hay—”

She shakes her head, sad understanding washing over her expression. “I’m not your mother, Layla.”