Ever After Awaits (Layla) novel Chapter 17

She still smells like all my memories, dreams, fantasies, and regrets all rolled into one.

Layla Kincaid was my best friend since we were three years old till we abruptly moved away at age 11. In those eight years, she became my best friend, safe haven, and first–ever love.

Mom and I had just moved into the house next door to hers and I was playing in the backyard while mom unpacked all our boxes. The sound of tinkling bells sounded and in my childlike mind, my first thought was that Father Christmas came early this year.

I sprinted over to the fence, but it was too high up. Not ready to give up on seeing Santa, I looked around for something to stand on. I spotted an old abandoned cast–iron chair closer to the house, dragged it closer to the spot I heard the noise coming from, and climbed on, at last tall enough to peek over the fence.

What I saw was not Santa but a pretty girl with dark brown pigtails and a flowy pink dress on. She had the brightest smile on her face and the tinkling sound came from her laughing at the bubbles her dad was blowing up into the air.

I stood there, mesmerized. Not just because I was envious of the time her dad was spending with her, but because she had this happy and carefree demeanor about her. I wanted to capture it and bottle it up for

myself.

The next day her mom came over with a casserole to welcome us to the neighborhood. She was hiding behind her mom’s skirt but the moment our eyes met, things just clicked between us.

We were inseparable from there on out. During the day when mom went to work at the diner, I went to the same daycare as her. Her mom picked us up afterwards and I had dinner with them most nights. Mom. worked double shifts most of the time to make ends meet but the Kincaids didn’t seem to mind having

another small mouth around that needed to be fed.

When it became time for us to go to kindergarten, we enrolled in the same school and were placed in the same class. We sat next to each other in class, played together during recess, and took the bus home together.

We camped in the backyard in the summer and built forts in the living room in the winter. We baked chocolate chip cookies on the weekends and did chores together during the week.

Homework was a breeze. I helped her with math and science, and she helped me with English and art. Science projects were a combined effort and we always made the top 3.

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When she was 9 and Zoey Robbins spilled Kool–Aid down her back, I placed a frog in Zoey’s backpack with a note that said if she bullied Layla again, it would be a snake next time she never came near Layla again. When I was 10 and Mason Monroe pushed me from the swings on the playground one day, Layla was the one to give him a nice shiner – he never bothered me again.

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Chapter 17: AJ POV

Then things started to change at home.

Mom lost her job due to the restaurant closing. As a single mom with no college education, she struggled to find something that paid well enough.

She started going out at night, asking the Kincaids if I could sleep over at their house. When she got back in the mornings, she reeked of alcohol and her hair was all messy. In my naïve child’s mind, she was waitressing again but somewhere that stayed open 24 hours and sold alcohol.

It wasn’t long after that, that strange men started showing up at the house. Mom would shoo me over to Layla’s house, lock the front door, and pull the curtains so I couldn’t peek through the windows.

There was a steady stream of guys, all different ages but with one distinct commonality. They were all greasy, slimy, and sleazy. When they looked at me, my skin crawled.

Through all this, Layla’s parents were saints. They kept me fed, made up the guest room for me, and I even went to visit Layla’s Nan with her over the summer holidays.

Then Stephen started showing up and the other men disappeared.

His flashy car was in the driveway constantly, Mom was always tired and numerous bruises started showing up on her body. Initially, she told me she fell because she drank a little too much. But it wasn’t too long before Stephen started getting brazen and would hit her in front of me.

Back then I was short and skinny, and a large gust of wind had the potential to blow me over. I had no chance of standing up to him, of protecting my mom. Something that still haunts me to this day.

Mom kept getting weaker, slept longer, drank more, and eventually needles started appearing around the house.

I originally thought she was sick like Joanne from school’s mom who had to inject herself with insulin for her diabetes. But after a little bit of research, I soon realized that Stephen had gotten Mom hooked on drugs – heroin to be exact.

It didn’t take long for Mom to become a shell of her old self. Her eyes were sunken in, she didn’t eat so she basically had no muscle mass, and her skin was red and raw from scratching at it the whole time.

We had no one I could turn to for help – I never knew my dad and Mom’s parents passed away when she was in her teens. I just had Layla.

She held me when I struggled to fall asleep, she distracted me when the violent noises from next door became too much, and she listened when I just needed to vent. She was the lifeline that kept me tethered to reality, refusing to let me give up even when things seemed dismal.

One blistering winter night, we arrived home from the school’s winter recital, hopped up on hot chocolate, and laughing at all the performances of the evening that were just plain ridiculous. Layla was the first to

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Chapter 17: AJ POV

see the red and blue lights and my gut immediately told me that my life would never be the same again.

Mrs. Kincaid ushered us into their house and Mr. Kincaid went to speak to the officers standing in my front yard – grim looks on their faces. Layla and I kept peeking through the living room window at them, hoping to see my mom stepping out of the house.

When Mr. Kincaid came back inside, he sat us down on the couch and broke the news to me that Mom had overdosed earlier that evening. Stephen found her, called 911, then packed his shit and left.

The following day I was pulled from school by the social worker, a bag of my essentials was already in the back of the car, and I was whisked away to become a ward of the state – effectively dumping me in the

foster system.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Layla.

But here she was, in my arms, all grown up. Smelling like strawberries and something sweet. Her lush curves wrapped around me, holding on to me as if her life depended on it.

Something inside me stirred, something I thought was dead a long time ago. Something that, the last time I felt is, was when Layla was in my vicinity. But this time, it was more intense, more life–altering, and dare I say it, more arousing.

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