LAYLA'S POV
Edward’s gaze lingers on my face for a few seconds, his jaw ticking and I didn’t think the sight of his usually stoic face could make my chest ease like this. Slowly, his attention shifts to Ginny, to my father, his expression darkening with each glance.
He steps fully into the room and shuts the door behind him.
The mood shifts instantly, and it’s unmistakably clear which way the scale of authority is tipping so I move closer to him, letting his frame swallow the direct line between me and my father.
“Edward Strout,” Mr. Thomas says, a note of urgency slipping into his tone and his gaze flicks briefly to me. “We don’t have an appointment.”
“I know.” Edward says dryly, and turns to me again. His eyes do a quick sweep from my face, to my shoulders and hands. “Are you hurt?”
