I realized at that moment I didn’t want him to know about Layla, or at least, the asshole inside me doesn’t want her to know about him. I immediately bristled at the idea she might take an interest in what she saw … or whatever the equivalent of speaking with someone over a radio handset might be. Either way, I didn’t fucking like it, so I conveniently forgot to tell her about my friend and closest person nearby who should be her first port of call in case of emergency. She doesn’t need to know anything about Stôrmand Lane, nor about the fact he used to be a rodeo star. Doesn’t need to know
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