Chapter 3-2
1072 Words
The door brushed closed when laughter floated down the hallway. Dylan would know Heaven’s voice anywhere. Her vibrations grew stronger the farther he went inside the house. He knew the other voice too. Had heard it most of his life. Yet hearing them together struck him as odd.
He ignored the bottles on the floor when he entered the kitchen. The sight before him left his mouth gaping. Layne eased away from Heaven as her hands fell to her sides. A jealous man would go nuts.
Come to think about it…
As words rushed from Dylan’s lips, the response Layne gave was the one he’d hoped for. He froze in place, eyes wide. Was he ready to explain his actions or s**t himself?
Layne’s words were unnecessary. His face said plenty, as did the rigidness of his body. Still, he went on the defense.
“Dude, chill! It’s not what you think.”
Dylan stormed across the kitchen floor, heading straight toward Layne with clenched fists. Heaven vanished from his sight when his friend turned toward him, eyes growing wider with each step he made.
When he and Layne stood toe to toe, Dylan burst into laughter, hitting Layne on the upper arm. “Damn, man. How long have we known each other? You should know my game face. Unless I’ve gotten better at bullshitting you.”
Layne slumped back against the counter. “Not cool, dude. Not cool at all.”
“So.” Dylan noticed the overturned stool. “What happened here? You two aren’t trying to kill each other, are you?”
His focus shifted to Heaven, who hadn’t stopped staring at Layne. She bit her lip before turning her attention to him.
“Layne just saved me from breaking my neck.”
“What?” He followed her gaze to the stool before reality smacked him. Once he pulled Heaven close, he examined her body for signs of trauma. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Layne came in from the den and caught me before I hit the ground.”
Blood rushed to Dylan’s cheeks. He’d been an i***t to prank his friend after he’d saved Heaven from getting hurt. His face continued to burn as he regarded Layne.
“Man, I feel like a jerk.”
Layne waved away his comment. “Don’t. You were just messing with me. Besides, I ended up causing her to fall when I helped her up. We both hit the ground that time.”
When Layne cracked a smile at Heaven, Dylan sensed a change between them. They were getting along, like friends. Did it mean Layne accepted her? If he no longer felt concerned over their relationship, it would make today go smoother.
“I hope I didn’t break your bottle of Patrón.” Layne left the counter. He didn’t stop until he reached the archway where he retrieved a bottle from the floor. Several more lay at his feet. “If I’d searched for this bad boy one more second, I wouldn’t have reached Heaven in time. When I saw her, I dropped everything. I didn’t think these bottles would survive the fall.”
“I would have been okay with that. Some things are replaceable. Some aren’t.” His eyes made it back to Heaven once more before turning back toward Layne. “I owe you a drink.”
“It can wait,” Layne chuckled.
“Nope. Take your a*s back to the den. I’m right behind you.”
After a short trek into the den, Dylan walked over to the mini bar. He set the tequila bottle on the counter as he watched Layne sit on the stool across from him. Something weighed on his friend’s mind, but he kept avoiding eye contact. Had Faith broken off their fling? It would explain why he’d shown up alone.
Once Dylan slid the shot across the bar, he grabbed his glass and clinked it against Layne’s.
“Drink up, buddy. You deserve it.”
Layne blew the hair from his forehead as he tapped his fingers on the bar.
“I did what anyone would do.”
Since when had Layne become modest? Any other time, he’d be eating up praise like a slice of pie. Instead, he seemed shaken. Did he not realize what he’d done?
“What if you hadn’t been here? If she’d hit the counter just right—”
“Impossible.” Layne crossed his arms over his chest. “She fell in the opposite direction.”
“Which could have resulted in a cracked skull, a broken back, or a broken neck.”
Layne’s jaw flinched. He grabbed the shot of Patrón, knocking it back until every drop left the glass. Dylan joined him. Both slammed their glasses back to the bar. Then Layne cleared his throat.
“She’s safe, bro. Relax. I’m glad I was here to help. I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t asked me here. Are you going to tell me what we’re celebrating today?”
That was the million-dollar question—one Dylan had expected his friend to ask.
His gaze fell back to their glasses. He took a deep breath and tipped the bottle to pour another round.
“Heaven needed today more than I did. She’s stressed to the point she’s losing sleep. I wanted to help.”
“Why is she stressed?”
“It’s over our relationship.” He passed the glass to Layne, noting the crease in his friend’s forehead. “More like, how people view our relationship. My dad is one of those people.”
“Does she know about our discussion at Jerry’s house?”
“Not the details. She knows you have concerns, but I explained to her how you’re just looking out for me.”
Sliding Layne another shot, he debated on discussing what he’d witnessed in the kitchen. Though he didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like a jealous asshole.
“I know I haven’t helped, but I swear, dude, I’m trying,” Layne confessed.
Dylan downed his shot, enjoying the warmth of the liquor as it slid down his throat. When Layne knocked his back, Dylan seized the moment.
“I’m glad you brought that up. I can tell something changed between you and Heaven. Want to enlighten me?”
Tequila spewed across the bar as Layne choked.
- Writer
