I shouldn’t let myself think it, but I do.
She’s sunshine in my darkness.
And for the first time in a long time, the ride doesn’t feel lonely.
layla
. . .
Reed coasts into a gravel driveway tucked deep into the hills. I hold on tighter than I mean to, not ready for the ride to end, not prepared to lose the steady warmth of him against me.
He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is almost deafening. Crickets take over as the wind rustles through tall grass, the faint creak of trees shifting against the night.
I slide off the bike, legs shaking, my pulse still pounding in my throat. He hops off after me, and with just a tilt of his head, he grabs my duffel from my grasp and guides me forward.
We walk in sync as I take in my surroundings.
His house rises in front of me, half-hidden in shadow, but even in the dark, I see it’s nothing like the sterile glass condos of LA. It’s rustic, built from weathered timber and stone, the kind of place that looks like it’s been here forever, rooted into the hillside itself.
Huge windows span across the front, tall panes catching slivers of moonlight and reflecting it like water. Even from the porch, I can see straight inside. Warm lamps softlyilluminate his living room, the edges of the leather furniture softened by the spill of light.
The porch stretches wide, framed by dark beams and hanging Edison bulbs that sway in the night breeze. They cast everything in a soft, golden hue, transforming the space into something comforting and inviting.
I grip the sleeve of my sweater, my chest aching because this house is so Reed—rugged, scarred, and yet beautiful.
All I can think about is the ride here. My arms around him. His voice, low and steady, telling me to hold on. The way he called me sunshine.I can still feel the vibration of the engine in my bones, the press of his body against mine. I’m spiraling, tumbling fast into places I have no business going.
I tug my phone from my bag, fingers moving before I can think.
Layla
Staying with the girls.
The lie tastes bitter, but I send it anyway.
His reply comes instantly.
Brian
I don’t fucking care.
Ew, fuck him.
Just get your shit together, Layla, then we can leave him.
Even though I’m mentally checked out, my throat still tightens, and tears prick hot at the corners of my eyes. He’s an asshole, sure, but when you give every piece of yourself to someone you thought was your soulmate, it hurts.
And the thought of leaving isn’t as easy as you think it is.
I shove my phone back into my bag as I lift my chin,putting on a fake smile, and follow Reed up the steps to his door.
As the twinkle bulbs flicker above us, casting him in amber, I think if I’m not careful, this house, this man, might undo me completely.
He steps in front of me quickly, grabs his keys, and unlocks the front door, ushering me inside.
The door swings open with a low creak, and I step inside before I can second-guess myself.
His house smells faintly like oakmoss and sandalwood, that rugged mix of wood and warmth that makes you want to breathe deeper.
