Even like this, as upset as she was, Layla looked so unbelievably beautiful. The cold air had turned the tip of her nose the same pink as her cheeks. Her blue and green knit hat was pulled down over her ears, and she wore a matching scarf around her neck.
Some of her hair hung over each shoulder, the glossy black strands reminding Derek of the clear night sky overhead. She was so different than the women who usually sought his company.
No glitz, no glamour. Just perfection.
But then again, she hadn't sought his company. The only time she'd done that was the other night. He should have appreciated that instead of confirming every awful thing she thought she knew about him.
Derek wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she understood how sorry he was. "We're not doing anything. Just talking."
"Oh...I've heard about enough talking tonight to last me a lifetime. Besides, haven't we said everything we need to say to each other already?" Layla started to walk toward the open gate behind the band's bleachers, out to the parking lot.
He easily kept up with her brisk pace. "Yeah. We've said a lot of things, but I don't think either of us is listening. I think we should try a little of that before we--"
She stopped, and he bumped into her. The stadium lights shone in her tear-glassed eyes. "Before we what? Go back to our lives? Realize that the whole thing was a game after all? My whole fucking life is nothing but a game, but it's not the one I want to play."
"I was going to say before we give up on each other."
Layla dashed away a tear that had dared roll down her cheek, then glared at Derek as if it were his fault it had escaped in the first place.
"There is no 'each other.' This is all I have." She waved her hand, encompassing the football field, the bleachers, and the kids getting in their cars. "This is what I can't give up on. Because it's all about to be taken away from me."
The first part of what she said made him angry, even though she was right. There was no "each other," but for the hell of him, Derek couldn't figure out why.
The second part of what she said, the pain swimming in those dark eyes, made him even angrier.
He wanted to find the source of all that pain and destroy it, pound it into dust to pave the road to her happiness. And he would do it if he could. He would find a way to make her happy even if there never was an "each other."
"What do you mean? What happened out there?"
"Like you care."
"I do care. Listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the way I treated you." Derek lowered his voice. "Both times. I know you wont believe me...but if I could go back...I do care about you, Layla."
She shook her head and shifted the bag on her shoulder. "What do you want from me?"
Derek eased the strap of the bag down her arm and hoisted it on his shoulder instead. Her mouth thinned, but she let him do it. "Right now, all I want is to be able to start over."
He couldn't resist wiping away a tear that escaped down the other cheek. She stiffened and closed her eyes, but didn't recoil.
"So tell me about what happened at half-time," he said. "That didn't exactly look like what you had planned. Maybe you don't want to start over, but you can talk to me."
Layla lifted her chin, radiating that mixture of pride, stubbornness, and challenge he loved so much about her. He thought for a moment she wasn't going to answer, but then her shoulders slumped as if the weight of her problems had finally broken them.
"I was supposed to give a speech. I was supposed to remind people that music is important. If they know that, maybe the school board won't give all my funds to..." She looked away.
"To that asshole? Is that why he stormed the field so that he and that other douche bag could give us a lecture about football." Derek's voice came out louder than he intended, but the urge to defend her overpowered his urge to be polite.
Layla nodded. "What am I going to do?"
Her eyes narrowed.
Derek glanced in the direction she was looking to see Brody approaching, a slick smile plastered on his face. Derek turned and placed himself between Layla and Brody, stopping the man from getting too close.
"Wow. That douche bag you're yelling about is a Senator," Brody said.
"You knew I was supposed to be addressing the crowd tonight." Lyla spoke through gritted teeth. "You did that on purpose."
"I didn't know the Senator was going to be here. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. But yes...I did it on purpose. I'm just advocating for my department. Same as you." Brody's smile never faltered. "Lucky for me, the Senator was here. If you ask me, he really got the crowd going."
Derek stepped toward Brody. "We didn't ask you. Layla and I are having a private conversation. You need to leave us alone, or--"
"Or you'll punch me again? Please do. The reporters are still here talking to the boys in the locker room. I bet 'Low Life Rock Star Punches Coach' would make a great headline." Brody tapped his chin. "Just not front page. Matty Conley and his seven touchdowns...now that's front page. They'll make room for you underneath that."
"You think I give a shit about headlines?"
"You might give a shit about assault charges." Brody smirked. "Ed Tiller's not here to lie for you this time."
"Stop it. Both of you." Layla shoved her way between them, much as she'd done the night in the bar.
Derek forced himself to relax. No way was he going to do anything to get her hurt.
"You." She flattened a hand on Derek's chest and pushed him back a few steps. "You are going to calm down. And you..."
Layla faced Brody.
"I know you hate me, but there are still kids around. Think about them. How would it look for the school if you got in a fight after such a great game. You can tell me how I ruined everything...how you're going to take everything from me just like I've taken everything from you. I know that's what you want. But tell me all that in private. Not in front of the kids."
Brody's eyes slid over Layla. "You're right. As always. But that's you, isn't it? Layla the Righteous. She who can do no wrong."
Derek had had just about enough of this guy's tone. "I don't know what your problem is--"
"You don't?" Brody tilted his head.
When he spoke again, Derek thought he caught a whiff of liquor on his breath. So much for being a pillar of the community.
"I thought everyone knew." Brody shook his head as if he pitied Derek. "I know you haven't been here long, but usually word travels fast around here."
Layla balled her hands into fists. Derek put his hand on her arm to stop her from lunging at Brody. He would have loved to see her punch the guy herself, but he knew she'd regret it if she did it right here and now.
Brody folded his arms across his chest. "Please. Allow me to fill you in..."
"Brody. Don't." Layla's voice was desperate.
Derek didn't know what was going on, but he knew nothing she'd ever said or done could warrant this kind of torture.
"My sister is dead. Those other girls, too. Burned to a crisp. Because of her." Brody's lip curled.
Now Layla was the one yelling, the tears streaming down her face. "I called you when they started drinking, but you didn't pick up your phone."
Brody's face darkened. Derek pulled Layla behind him, ready to pummel Brody to the ground if he took so much as a step toward her.
"Right," Brody said. "I forgot. It's my fault."
"That's not...no...it was an accident. A terrible, horrible accident." Layla buried her face in her hands.
"Huh. That makes it all better, then." Brody's eyes flicked over to Derek. "Why don't you ask her why she hates cigarettes so much. I love watching her face when I light one up in front of her. It's the whole reason I started smoking to begin with--that look on her face. It's the least she deserves."
Layla sobbed.
Derek stood, frozen between tossing Brody out on his ass in the parking lot, and crushing Layla in his arms. He had asked her more than once what it was about cigarettes, but now he could see whatever it was, it was eating her alive.
Brody left, his broad shoulders moving in time with his gait.
"Hey. Mr. Taylor...can we get a picture with you?"
Derek turned to see a group of kids headed toward him from where they'd been chatting in front of the stands. He turned back to Layla, who had rearranged her features into a semblance of control.
"Layla--"
"It's fine. I'm fine." She sniffled. "Take pictures with them. Please. It will make them happy."
He would have taken the pictures anyway, but he'd take them all night if it would make her happy. "Wait for me. I'll tell Adam to take Rose and my car home, and we can go somewhere. We can talk."
The kids were right in front of them now, a mix of girls and boys, not a care in the world except whether they were going to get their picture with the rock star. And he wasn't even the front man.
Derek forced a smile to his face and waved at them. The girls giggled.
Layla took her bag back. He tried to hold on to it, but she stared at him until he let go. She shook her head. "Like I said...I've had enough talking tonight." She glanced at the kids. "I would tell you to be nice to them, but I know I don't need to. See you 'round."
Then she was gone, too, and he just stood there, blinking after her.
"Can we get a picture now?" one of the boys said.
Derek smiled. "Sure thing. What did you guys think of the game?"