A Father's Fight: Blake and Layla #2 (Fighting #5) (13 page)

Twenty

Blake

The sun sinks behind the distant mountains as I rock my
son in a chair by the window while Layla sleeps. His face is peaceful as he
sleeps except for the occasional baby grunt or twitch of his tiny lips.

His hair is the color of gold and he’s got a ton of it. It’s hard
to say who he resembles more, but I can already tell he’s got his mother’s nose
and her perfect chin. I lean down, placing a kiss on both, overwhelmed with gratitude
that a woman as amazing as Layla would fall in love with me. Warts and all.

“You need to eat.” Killian has been trying to get Axelle to eat
for the past hour, but she refuses. If the tension in his voice is any
indication, I’d say he’s getting past taking no for an answer. “Come on. Up.”

I peek over to see Killer standing, his hand offered to Axelle,
but she has her arms crossed at her chest and she’s glaring. My lips tick and I
turn back to my son to hide my amusement. Stubborn as hell, just like her
mother.

“I’m not going, Killian. I’m not leaving my mom.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital cafeteria, not fucking Siberia,”
Killer whisper-hisses and I almost lose my shit and bust up laughing.

She lifts her palm to his face. “Hold on . . . are you yelling at
me in rhymes? This isn’t ‘Eight Mile,’ Eminem.”

That’s it. I lose it. A long and low chuckle gurgles up my throat
and the baby stirs.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” Killer moves to the door. “I’ll grab
you something and bring it back.” His eyes swing to me. “You want something,
man?”

“No thanks, Slim Shady.”

Axelle giggles and Killer growls before storming out of the room.

I swivel my chair to face her. “Kiddo . . . he’s right, ya know?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. “Whatever.”

“Why’re you so hard on him?”

“I’m not hard on him.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just not hungry.”

“Axelle . . .” There’s a warning in my voice that has her up and
stomping towards the door.

She glares for a few seconds and pain works behind her eyes. It’s
as if she knows she’s hurting him but can’t help it. “Fine. I’ll find him.” She
throws back the door a little harder than she has to.

Poor kid. I feel sorry for Killian. He’s had a thing for Axelle
from the beginning, but she’s been through a lot this last year, and ever since
Stew showed up on her doorstep, she hasn’t been the same. She’ll come around eventually.
If Killer wants her bad enough, he’ll wait.

My mind spins in one hundred different directions, but I still
manage to smile like a damn idiot. Being here in this room with my woman, my
ring on her finger, our daughter and newborn son, I feel indestructible. Not at
all what I thought I’d feel.

I thought love made me vulnerable. At least, that’s the way I was
raised. Having no one gives me nothing to lose. Every time I revert to that way
of thinking, Layla proves me wrong again and again. Holding my baby in my arms,
I feel fear for the future. What kind of hell is this little man going to put me
through: fear for his first fever, first broken arm . . .?

My dad wasn’t completely right. Death makes a man think, but so
does life.

I hear a soft knock, and Braeden pushes through the door, checks
Layla out, and then takes an empty chair and pulls it close. “You gonna let me
hold him?”

“No.”

“Dude, I sat and had every bone in my hand fractured multiple
times with your woman before you got here.” He holds his hand up and wiggles
his fingers, wincing. “I deserve some uncle-nephew time.”

“I gave him your name, dude. That’s all you get.”

“Seriously?” His eyebrows pinch together. “You’re such a baby
hog.”

I’m half joking with my brother. I don’t mind if he holds Jack. I
just don’t want to let him go. “Fine, but switch spots. He likes being rocked.”

Brae takes my place and I lay my son in his arms. “Make sure to
support his head.”

It takes a few adjustments, but soon Jack is nestled safely in my
brother’s arms.

I lean in and whisper. “So . . . Trip?”

“Shit, man.” He blows out a long breath. “I’m really sorry about
that.”

“My woman is stubborn as shit. I knew you didn’t have a chance of
keeping her out of trouble for twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “She’s like, some kind of PI ninja with gnarly
illusion skills. I seriously believed she was meeting with some
mom-to-be-group.”

I can’t help the rush of pride that swells my chest. “She’s a
handful, bro.”

He turns toward her sleeping. “Yeah . . . I need to get me one of
those.”

I smack him upside his head.

“Dude, I’m holding a baby.” His whisper-hiss is accompanied by a
pretty weak evil-eye.

A chuckle rumbles in my chest, and I swear if I let myself, I’d
giggle like a fucking girl. I’m so damn happy.

“How was Dad when you left?” The tiny baby whines and Brae starts
rocking.

“Good, man. Really good. I think he’s gonna fight.”

His eyes grow big with shock. “No kidding?”

I nod and stretch, suddenly feeling tired after today’s events.
“Yep. He’s also planning on coming out for a few days to meet my family.”

“Amazing.” He goes back to admiring his nephew. “I knew your
visiting would be good for him. I think he needed your forgiveness in order to
want to go on living.”

No kidding? How do I have that much power over a man like Duke
Daniels?

I gaze down at my son, who’s cradled in my brother’s arms, and it
hits me. Jack isn’t even twenty-four hours old, and already he has me wrapped
tightly around his baby finger. If he wanted me to crawl to him on my knees,
I’d do it happily. Shit! Talk about a revelation.

“Are you guys talking about your dad?” Layla says, her voice
groggy.

“Hey . . .” I move to her bedside, drop down by her hip, and
brush her hair from her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Her eyes are a little puffy, but the flush of her cheeks and the
undiluted joy that radiates from her smile says it all.

“Better, thanks.” She pushes up to sitting. “I’m so sorry I
didn’t ask about your Dad.”

“Nah, don’t be.” I drop a kiss to her forehead and she closes her
eyes and sighs. “It’s all good.”

“Good? As in . . .” She doesn’t say it, and I don’t blame her.
It’s as if putting the idea in audible words is too much.

“We’re good, baby. Facing death has made him see the light.”

“Wow, that’s great news, Blake.” She shifts on the bed, and I
prop up some pillows behind her the way the nurses showed me. “Will I finally
get to meet them?”

“They’re going to make a trip out as soon as you’re up for it.” A
smile pulls at my mouth. God, I must look like a damn clown.

“Knock, knock!” Jonah’s voice comes from the door.

“Come in!” Layla pushes herself up, and I pull her blankets up as
high as she’ll let me and tuck them around her legs.

“You sure? We’ve got a whole crew in tow.” Jonah jerks his head
to the people filtering into the room: Raven, Rex, Gia, and Mason whose grimace
is apparent. Cameron and Eve trail in behind everyone else, his arm thrown over
her shoulder. Ah, there’s where Baywatch’s mood stems from.

Raven and Eve rush to Layla, and I stand to give them room, but
not before lifting Layla’s knuckles to my lips for a quick kiss.

Brae doesn’t risk standing but swivels his rocker around. “You
guys wanna see my amazing little nephew, Jack?”

Rex holds Gia’s hand and peers over Brae. “Damn, he looks like
you, Layla.”

Gia nods. “I love the name. That’s the name of a stud.”

“Yeah, it is.” I grin and cross my arms.

A snort comes from across the room, and Eve has her hand on her
chest, silent laughter making her shoulders jump.

“Eve, what the fuck?” Cameron’s pinched glare is on his girl.

She stops laughing abruptly as if she’d been poked in the side.
“Cameron! You can’t cuss around the baby.” She shoves him, but he only grabs
her arm and pulls her into his chest.

Mason’s avoiding them, staring at a bunch of nothing around the
room.

“Why you laughin’?” I throw a baby pacifier that Layla has
refused to use on Jack, figuring it was expendable. It hits Eve in the back.

“Hey!” She whirls around, but Cam keeps his arms locked around
her waist, her back pressed to his front. “It’s funny!”

“What’s funny?”

“Jack . . .?” Her eyes move around the room, but everyone is
staring at her as if they’re waiting for the punch line.

“Axelle Rose . . . ?” Eve rolls her hand through the air, but no
one fills in the blank.

“Oh my gosh, people.” She slaps her forehead. “Axelle Rose and Jack
Daniels! That’s so rock n’ roll!”

Layla and I find each other’s eyes simultaneously, and we’re
silent for a few beats before we both burst into hysterical laughter.

I sit down on her bed and pull her into my arms. “Our kids are
the epitome of rock ‘n roll.”

She leans into me, laughing. “Let’s just hope their names aren’t
prophetic.”

A crowd circles around my baby, and something tells me this is
going to be a problem most of his life. With his mom’s good looks and my bad
attitude, the guy’s going to get all kinds of attention, hopefully none of it
from the police department.

But even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.

Because no matter what he does or what he becomes, I’ll never
shut him out.

Twenty-one

Blake

It’s amazing the changes a single day can bring. How holding
the fragile life of my son in my arms can bring on an entirely different
perspective. It’s as if his birth has finally connected me to some kind of
parental hard drive. I’m not the same man I was when I rolled out of bed this
morning.

I rock back and forth in the dark hospital room while Layla’s
soft breathing mixes with the tiny snores of our newborn son and lulls me into introspection.
Jack in one arm, Layla’s phone in my palm, I contemplate what I’m about to do, consider
the consequences rather than act on impulse. It’s not my usual MO, but it feels
right.

Clarity washes over me, and I see things now that I never did
before: how a father would go to any length to protect his son, even if that
meant sacrificing his relationship with him. I’d never put Jack through what my
father put me through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t finally understand the
reasons for why he did what he did.

As frustrating as it is to admit to myself, I can understand why
Trip didn’t fight for Axelle. According to Layla, he genuinely thought she’d be
better off with a guy like Stew, taking the backseat in order for them to have
a shot at a decent future. I’m not convinced it’s right, but I get it.

I check Layla’s phone. It’s just past midnight, but something
tells me that regardless of the late hour, he’ll answer.

I press my lips to my baby’s warm cheek. “Come on, bud. We’ve got
business to take care of.”

Slowly, I push up from the rocking chair, and with quiet feet, I
move out of the room to avoid waking Layla. She was a champion today and has been
feeding our son every two hours. The poor woman needs as much sleep as she can
get.

Once in the hallway I tiptoe down the quiet corridor to a window
that overlooks the city.

“This is the first and most important lesson you’ll ever learn in
life, Son.” Holding up the phone, I scroll through the text messages until I
find the one I need. “How to take care of the women you love the most.” I hit
send and press the phone to my ear.

“Layla?” He answers on the second ring. “Are you okay?”

I grit my teeth at hearing the worry in Trip’s voice. “Not Layla,
man. It’s Blake.”

“What do you want?” He’s lost the frantic tone and moved straight
to asshole. “Another chance to kick my ass?”

I take a deep breath and drop my chin to study my baby’s tiny
lips as they suckle in his sleep. My son. My blood. What would it have been
like to not be here for him? Watch another man raise him as his own?

“Nah, man. Look, I, uh . . . I’m sorry about what happened
earlier.”
Kinda.
“I didn’t know the
whole story, but I wanted you to know that Layla told me everything.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t give me much of an indication as to what he’s
thinking.

“Here’s the thing, Trip. I know you get that my girls went
through a lot before moving to Vegas. Things are finally good for them, but
that doesn’t mean they can shake off seventeen years of bullshit overnight.”

“I realize that. I’d just waited so long already. Then hearing
what went down with Stew . . . I needed to find them, make sure they were okay.”

“Absolutely. Makes sense you’d do a little snooping, find Layla,
and plead your case.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt them.” His voice is low and apologetic.

“I know that. I do.” My eyes focus on my Jack’s tiny face. “Just
took holding my son for me to figure that out.”

“A boy, huh? Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Yeah, this shit’s getting a little too friendly. “I’ll
make this short. Layla talked about you even before we’d gotten together. You
two had a thing that wasn’t some little bullshit high school hook up; you made
a baby that grew into a young woman whom I love just as much as I do my own
blood.”

He clears his throat and I know he’s feeling this shit. I hate
that I’m making him relive it, but he needs to know where we stand so he can
respect the boundaries I set moving forward.

“So you fucked up. Now you’re straight, but a ton of time has
passed, and you dropped a pretty significant bomb when you breezed into town.
My girls need a little breathing room while they come to terms with all that.”

“Yeah . . .” He exhales sharply. “You’re right. I didn’t really
think it through. I was too focused on getting to meet my daughter.” He seems
genuinely apologetic, and, again, I feel as if we’re sharing some supersecret
dad connection.

“Give them some time. Let them process this shit. When they do,
I’ll see what I can do about getting Axelle to reach out, yeah?”

“Are you . . . wait, you’re fucking with me, right? I mean you
jumped me, and now you’re saying you’re gonna help me?”

The corner of my mouth twitches at the mix of excitement and
confusion in his voice. “If you don’t do something to piss me off, yeah, I’ll
help you.”

“I, uh . . . I appreciate that.”

“Don’t go thanking me yet. I need you to back off completely for
a while. Layla was spitting fire when she found out you approached Axelle
without her there. From here on out, no contact: no more digging around, no
phone calls, text messages, or emails. Deal?”

“For how long?”

“Until they come around. I’ll text you my cell number when we get
off the phone. Then I’m going to erase all the history of your calls and texts
from Layla’s. You have something that needs to be said; you do it through me.”

“I don’t know. I mean—”

“You want to know your daughter?”

“Of course.”

“Then you play by my rules. I won’t negotiate on this. You play.
I’ll do what I can to get her to reach out.”

A few beats of silence tick by.

“This is as far as my kindness extends, Trip. We’re talking about
my family here, my fuckin’ reason for breathing. You heard the offer. Take it
or leave it.”

“Okay, okay. Deal.”

“Alright. Now I’m going to let you go, and if you know what’s
good for you, you’ll be on the first flight tomorrow back to your hometown.”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little pissed, but I don’t blame him. He’s
waited this long to know his daughter, and now he’s going to wait longer.

“And, Trip, one last thing.”

“What?”

My eyes focus on distant city lights, a world teeming with life.
How many lives out there were ever fought for? How many sons and daughters were
treated as if they were replaceable?

“I know you have regrets, wish you’d done things differently, but
I’m grateful you didn’t. Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have my
girls.”

“That’s a shitty thing to say, but”—he chuckles—“you’re
welcome. And thank you for watching out for them.”

We hang up and I shoot him a quick text with my number before
erasing all his history from the phone. I shove it into my pocket and cradle my
son with both arms. “And that’s how it’s done, bud.”

On my way back to Layla’s room, it hits me. Trip, The General,
and I have a lot more in common than I ever would’ve thought. We’ve all made
mistakes, screwed up in varying degrees, but we can’t allow our mistakes to
define our future. We have to look ahead, focus on that next step in the right
direction, and fight hard to get what we want, even if that feels like throwing
punches to the wind.

At least we fight, and if we go down, we go down swinging.