Page 149 of Ly to Me

Eventually, my eyes drifted shut in the comfort of my husband’s arms.

44

Carver

The Friends

As I carried Lyra back to our home, I tried not to think of all the ways I wanted to harm anyone who’d done her wrong. Her mother, for starters, should have never left such a precious thing alone with a man who had no business raising a growinggirl, or any child, for that matter. Jamie, for threatening her and calling her such terrible things without knowing a damn thing about her, and even if he did—all-around and flat-out—

Fuck. No.

Then, there was Chet. My fingers dug into Ly’s softening arm and thigh as I carried her in through the open front door, the sounds of the music long gone and now replaced with cicadas and the occasional brays and snorts from the animals in the barn.

How so many people could come after my girl without me putting the pieces together made me want to add my own name to that list. I’d treated her so wrong, and while I’d begged and gotten on my knees for her, knowing I was a part of that—part of her pain—made the need for her redemption all the more necessary.

I needed to end it all for her. To make sure no demons from her past ever came back. Her mother had more than likely tortured herself over leaving, hopefully festering in her life choices with no one to lean on. Hell, that’s what I did without her. However, Jamie, and possibly Chet, were still in Alliston—still too close for her to ever be comfortable in her own home. Her own town.

That needed to change.

After settling my wife back in our bed, I took her phone and sat in the chair across from her, watching the sheet rising and falling with each peaceful breath that escaped her plush lips. Going straight to her contacts, I searched for her friend's name, smiling when I saw an emoji next to it of two women standing side-by-side.

As much as I wanted to show her I could always be the one to lean on, I knew friends were what really got you through some of the harder shit. Not seclusion. Not penting it all up so you could explode later on down the road. Not only that, they werean excellent distraction. And the conversation I’d had with Grant earlier, telling him to come over, was part of a plan to do just that.

A plan that involved sweet retribution. Something that wouldn’t be possible if Lyra was worried about where I was.

As I fired off the text of our address to Sophia, I was sure that, little by little, everything in my wife’s life would be righted again.

I put her phone back on the nightstand and sat beside her. She released a long breath, the tension in her body easing as if she could sense me there. I let my fingers trail down her curves that were starting to fill out ever so slightly. I’d never seen her so relaxed before.

I curled in next to her, wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, then fell asleep just as peacefully as she had.

Dick had apparently woken up Lyra while I’d slept so incredibly hard that only missing her warmth had stirred me. I found her on the front porch, sitting on the steps, trying to reach out and touch the rooster while scorning him for being so loud.

I grinned as I sat beside her. “You know he can’t understand a word you’re saying, right?”

She scowled. “He does too. Don’t say that about him.”

“You just said he was as sharp as a bowlin’ ball.”

She took a long sip of coffee, still scowling at me over her mug. “He don’t need you repeatin’ it. Hurts his feelings.”

I arched a brow. “Did I fuck all the sense from you last night?”

She choked on her coffee, her eyes darting to Dick. “Don’t say that in front of him, either!”

“Pretty sure he saw me carry your naked body home last night, and if he didn’t, then he most definitely heard you screamin’—”

“Carver Roland,” she warned. “Dick is basically our child. Would you say that in front of your kid?”

I swallowed, my mind racing with the thought. Obviously, it was ano, I wouldn’t. But she’d just implied there might be kids in our future.

“You never did tell me what you’re taking to prevent that being our immediate future.”

She took another sip. Longer this time. As she set the mug between us, she admitted, “IUD. The ten year one.”

I flipped my fingers up, counting, then when I felt my forehead crease, she added, “It took me about a year to get the courage to go in and get one. We’re safe, Car. No kids.”

If she expected relief, I had none to give. “It wouldn’t be a trap with you, you know that, right?”