Vera was upstairs in Tripp’s bed. Tripp was on an air mattress in Jasper’s room, Jasper in his bed. Gabby had called in to Jas and she was safe at Brandy’s. Stew was wherever Stew was but none of his shit was at Gabby’s. Paige and Seth were at Cal’s old house.

Devin was out, whereabouts unknown, but he was either at J&J’s getting hammered or he was talking a bookie into doing him a favor and laying a fake trail of Coach Cosgrove betting on high school football games as well as giving insider information on when he’d be throwing them. Layne thought this because that was what Layne would do and Devin had taught him everything he hadn’t learned in the field so if Dev felt like playing dirty, Layne reckoned that was how he’d play it.

And Layne was on his back on the couch with a sleeping Raquel, her body half on his, half tucked into the seat of the couch at the back. Her knee was cocked, thigh resting over both of his, her pelvis snug in his hip, her arm was slung along his waist and she’d been out for the last hour.

He moved and her head instantly came up.

“Time for bed, baby,” he whispered and her eyes came to his.

He watched her blink, look around the room and he started to curl up, his arm around her back tensing to take her with him when she pressed into him and her gaze came back to his. Then he settled back when she moved her body so it was mostly on his, only partly in the couch and she crossed her arms on his chest and put her chin on her hands. He’d pulled the clip out of her hair hours ago so it was down, falling around her shoulders and on his chest.

Now she was studying him, sleep still in her eyes, something he couldn’t read with it.

“You know,” she started softly, “I promised I’d live it real.”

“Yeah?” Layne asked when she said no more.

“Well, I’m thinking about going back on that promise,” she told him and his arm around her squeezed.

“Roc –”

One side of her mouth she couldn’t control twitched up and she said, “Layne, if this is your real, I think we should live it fake for Sunday. I’ll wear an apron and make a pot roast and you can put on loafers and we can pretend to be Ozzie and Harriet without seeing disgusting pornographic pictures starring Stew ‘Ick’ Baranski, shaking anyone down, setting up safe houses for victims of domestic violence or sending teenaged kids on undercover assignments at Church Youth Groups.”

He used his arm around her to pull her up his chest, her chin came off her hands, her face came level with his and he gathered her hair in his other hand as he fought back a smile and told her, “Don’t own loafers, sweetcheeks.”

“We’ll go to the mall,” she offered. “I don’t own an apron either, we’ll pick one of those up too.”

“Not a big fan of shopping,” he informed her.

“That’s okay, you can swing by and get me a coffee. I’ll do all the grunt work.”

 He used her hair to bring her mouth to his and he kissed her lightly. He did it lightly because she put pressure on his hand and pulled back a little and he watched her eyes move over his face then her hand came up and he felt her fingers at his jaw. She watched as they glided feather light along his jaw, his lips and then over his cheekbone before her fingers slid into his hair at the side of his head, curling around the back and her eyes came back to his.

“I know about you,” she whispered.

“What do you know?” he whispered back.

“You help people,” she was still whispering.

“Rocky –”

She interrupted him. “I know about Kim Kempler.”

“Roc –”

“And I know about Winona Jakobi.”

“Baby –”

“Mostly women, right Layne?” she asked softly and he felt his body get tight.

“It isn’t –”

“Women with kids but on their own,” she cut him off. “Women like your Mom who struggle going it alone.”

“Ma did all right,” Layne reminded her.

“Yeah, because her son got a paper route the minute he could and got a job the minute he could get that. Couldn’t play football, even though you were good, as good as Alec Colton, if not better, because you had to quit when you were fifteen and work after school to help out at home.”

Layne tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t have amnesia, sweetcheeks.”

Rocky didn’t feel like lightening the mood. Her eyes had grown intense and her hand moved out of his hair so she could run the backs of her knuckles against his jaw. She flattened her hand on his cheek and her eyes held his.

“What am I going to do with you, Tanner Layne?” she whispered.

“If you’re open to suggestions, I got a few,” Layne whispered back.

“Do you want real?” she asked suddenly and he didn’t understand the question.

Still, he answered, “Yeah, I want real.”

“How real?” she asked quickly back.

“Lay it on me, Rocky,” Layne invited.

“I didn’t love him,” she returned and his body got tight under hers again. “I talked myself into thinking I loved him, but I didn’t. I liked him. I admired him. He’s brilliant at what he does, he’s passionate about it. I wanted to love him, I tried, but I never did.”

“What I’m hearin’, Roc, he wasn’t an easy man to love,” Layne replied.

“He treated me like shit,” Rocky announced and his arm automatically squeezed her as his hand holding her hair balled into a fist. “That’s why I couldn’t love him, I guess. Because he treated me like shit. For ten years. Even before we were married. And I took that, Layne. I took ten years of it. I took it.”

“You goin’ somewhere with this?” he asked.

“Do you think we’re going somewhere?” she asked back.

“We are goin’ somewhere,” he returned.

She nodded. “Then you need to know what kind of woman I’ve become.”

Layne stared at her a second and he fought it, he really did, but he couldn’t help it and he burst out laughing.

“Layne!” she snapped after he’d been laughing awhile and he rolled so she was on her back in the couch and he was mostly on top of her. When he got her in that position and kept laughing, she repeated, “Layne!”

“Give me a minute, sweetcheeks, that was fuckin’ funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she hissed.

“Well you were,” he said through waning laughter.

She glared at him then announced, “He’s bad in bed.” Layne burst out laughing again and Rocky slapped his arm. “Stop laughing, that’s not funny!”

“No, baby, you’re right, it isn’t, for you, for me, I find it hilarious,” Layne returned.

“I put up with that too,” she declared stubbornly then went back on it. “Well, I did then I didn’t so I guess it’s no surprise he went looking elsewhere because… well…”

Layne’s body was shaking and his side hurt so he said, “Please, Roc, you’re killin’ me.”

She fell silent, Layne got control of his hilarity and when he did he saw she was staring at him, serious as a heart attack.

“It’s interesting you think the last ten years of my life are amusing,” she noted and Layne sobered instantly and just as instantly gave it to her straight.

“I’m not glad he treated you like shit and I’m not glad he was shit in bed but at the same time I am. I’m glad you didn’t move onto anything better than what we had because I didn’t. Not in bed and not out of it, not ever, not once, not even close. It would suck if you did because that would kill and these last eighteen years without you were bad enough. These last eighteen years thinkin’ you’d gone onto somethin’ good, somethin’ solid, somethin’ that made you happy cut straight to the bone, Rocky. Knowin’ you didn’t is a relief, you should know that and I don’t give a fuck what you think about it, that’s how I feel.”

When he was done, she was still staring at him but her face had changed, her lips were parted and her eyes were intense. But she didn’t speak so he took that at his cue to continue.

“Somethin’ else, sweetcheeks,” he went on. “I know what kind of woman you are, you can’t hide it. So you made shitty decisions. I got blotto a week after you left me, fucked the first woman who came along that night who reminded me of you, the condom broke and she got pregnant. I was drunk but that’s no excuse, it was a shitty decision. I was pissed and in pain, made that decision and bore the consequences. I lucked out and got Jasper and Tripp outta that. You, if you play your cards right, can take his ass to the cleaners and make it so you’ll never worry about money. That’s what you’ll get out of yours.”

“I think, don’t you, that I should just cut my losses and move on. There’s no reason to make Jarrod pay for me not loving him,” Rocky replied.

“Oh yeah… yeah there is,” Layne returned.

“Really? What?”

His face dipped close. “Because he could have made you happy. It was me, you gave me a shot, I’d tie myself into knots to make you happy. He didn’t do that. He treated you like shit, made you feel small and fucked around on you. You think you played him but you didn’t. He might not be any good at fuckin’ but he’s the master at fuckin’ you over and he should pay for that.”

“Layne –” she started, her mouth had gone soft, her eyes had gone half-mast but he was on a roll.

She wanted to talk? They were going to talk.

“Why were you in my hospital room?”

Her body went solid underneath him and she repeated, “Layne.”

His arms gave her a rough squeeze. “Answer me, Rocky, why?” She closed her eyes and he gave her another squeeze on a warning, “Roc.”

She opened her eyes and whispered, “You know why, Layne.”

And that was when Layne watched the tears fill her eyes and one slid out the side, down her temple, into her hair and there it was. He knew it, or he had wanted to know it but he couldn’t be sure but there it was, the proof leaking from Rocky’s eyes.