John and Nancy seem really nice. Luke too, just your average teenage boy. Sweet, awkward, loud in the way teenagers are.
It must’ve been so hard to lose a mom at that age. The thought hits deeper than I expect. I wouldn’t know. I never really knew my parents. Foster homes, in and out, bags packed more times than I can count. When I turned eighteen, I worked. And wrote. And worked some more until I signed a deal and finally got published.
Under a different name, of course. Layla Park doesn’t exactly scream romance novelist. I shut the cabinet and sigh.
I’m kind of hoping Maggie stays. Maybe I’ll finally have someone to talk to. Someone to do girl things with. Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m an inconvenience just for existing. Because Cole definitely hates talking to me.
Alright, Layla. Enough spiraling. Write something. You’re surrounded by beauty. Use it.
I sit at the table, open my laptop, and start typing. Once I get into it, the words come easily, faster than I expect. Before I know it, I’m nearly eight hundred words in, completely lost in the rhythm of it.
Knock. Knock.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
I groan, close my laptop, and pull my headphones off. “Just a sec! I’m coming!” I call out.
When I open the door, Maggie is standing there and she smiles immediately, like she’s been waiting to talk to me.
“Hey, girl. I’m really sorry about that earlier,” she says. “I’m Maggie. Cole’s younger sister.”
She holds out her hand.
I shake it. “I’m Layla. It’s nice to meet you. Come on in.”
She steps inside like she belongs there and starts chatting instantly.
“My brother can be so controlling,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And so annoying. I’m honestly embarrassed by his behavior. But anyway—how are you enjoying the farm?”
“I haven’t gotten a chance to see much of it yet,” I admit. “But I love seeing the horses.”
“There’s seventy acres here,” she says. “It’s hard to see all of it, but I’ll show you around. What do you wanna see first?”
“Anything!” I say, my excitement bubbling up. “It’ll help me write. I came here to work on a novel. I really want to experience farm and country living.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Wait—you’re an author?”
Please don’t ask my pen name.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“That’s amazing!” she practically yells. “That’s so badass. Hell yeah, city girl.”
Thank goodness. She must not be a reader. I giggle. City girl… really?
“Thanks.”
“You wanna go check some shit out?” she asks. “See the country life?”
“Yes!” I say without hesitation.
As we walk toward the barn, I can’t help but notice how beautiful everything is. I’m really taking it all in, the land, the smells, the quiet, while also being eaten alive by mosquitoes in the process. Beauty comes with a price but it’s worth it even if I am getting eaten alive.
“You must taste good,” Maggie says, glancing down at my legs. “I’ve seen you smack them a few times. That’s why we usually wear jeans when we’re doing farm work. Bugs, scuffs… and riding horses’ll rub you raw if you’re not careful. Jeans give a little protection.”
I nod like I have any idea what she’s talking about. But you have to fake it till you make it.
“The horses are beautiful,” I say, looking up at her as we walk side by side.
