A soft knock breaks through the panic.
“Layla?” he says softly. “You okay in there, baby?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath fractured. “Yes,” I force out, my voice barely working. “Just… one second.”
“Alright,” he says quietly. “I’m right out here.”
He’s not asking questions; he’s not pushing. He just waits patiently, as he always does.
My phone buzzes again, with more vicious messages sliding across the screen, and something inside me buckles under the weight of my two worlds colliding.
One life shaped by lies and fear, and another by hope and genuine love.
My gaze lifts to the mirror as I stare into my reflection.
Paint still smears my cheek where Reed touched me. My lips are swollen from his kisses. My eyes are soft, happy, and alive in a way Brian has never seen.
And for the first time… I’m not terrified of losing him. I’m afraid of going back.
reed
. . .
She leaves in two days, and I wanted to take her out on that “date” she declared when we were out by the wild sunflower patch.
“You gotta trust me,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road even as I feel her watching me.
She narrows her eyes anyway. I can hear it in her voice. “I don’t like that tone.”
“It’s a good tone,” I argue. “A trustworthy one.”
She laughs nervously. “That’s exactly what someone says before a surprise I’m not emotionally prepared for.”
I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh, grounding us both. Her skin is warm beneath my palm, familiar already in a way that still catches me off guard.
She studies my face, glancing down as my hand settles on her thigh.
Her hand moves to mine, instantly warming my skin as her fingers curl around mine.
“Okay,” she says, smiling to herself. “I trust you, which feels bold of me.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “It’s earned.”
“Debatable,” she murmurs, but her thumb begins tracing slow lines over my knuckles.
The road stretches out as I keep driving.
I keep pretending my chest isn’t doing that thing it does when she touches me like this, like she’s chosen me without making a big deal of it.
“Is this a close-your-eyes surprise?” she asks.
“No,” I say immediately.
She looks relieved. “Good. I hate those.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
She laughs and squeezes my hand again. It does something to me. Settles me and wrecks me all in the same breath.
