“Come eat!” Dad yells from the kitchen.
Layla stands and walks past me like she’s done it a hundred times. I follow behind as Maggie and Luke practically sprint past us.
“Hey, girl,” Maggie says to her.
“Hey, Layla,” Luke adds.
I watch them for a second too long.
You’d think Layla was a damn gift from God the way my family’s acting. She’s not theirs and she’s not mine. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.
We all head into the dining room, and Layla grabs a chair like she’s one of us and just… sits. No hesitation. No asking. No awkward pause. Like she belongs here already.
She warms up fast.
“So, Layla,” Dad asks, “did you check out the ranch today?”
“I did,” she says easily. “Maggie showed me a lot of things. I actually rode a horse for the first time.”
Maggie lights up. “She’s a natural. Absolutely. Shadow was so calm with her—he really opened up. It was beautiful to see.”
Shadow is a good horse but he doesn’t just act that way for everyone. Must’ve been a fluke.
Layla smiles, cheeks a little pink, and takes a bite of food like she hasn’t just flipped my whole routine upside down.
She fits too easily. I need to know who I’m dealing with. I’m not asking for me.
“You warm up pretty fast,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “How does your family feel about you coming down here to live with strangers for six months… and your boyfriend?”
“Yuck,” Maggie mutters.
Dad rolls his eyes, but I don’t back down. I needed to ask. I don’t know her. She’s in our space. Around my family. I don’t really care—except I do enough to want to know who I’m dealing with. The last thing we need is some kind of serial killer living fifty yards from the house.
Layla pauses, then sets her fork down.
“Well… I don’t have any family,” she says. No drama. Just the truth. “I grew up moving from foster home to foster home. Never knew my mom or dad.”
The room goes quiet. That wasn’t what I expected.
“I always wondered about my last name being Park,” she continues. “So I did one of those ancestry DNA tests. Turns out my dad was Korean. I couldn’t find anything about my mom, but I figure she was probably white. Maybe young. Maybe they couldn't take care of me.” She shrugs lightly. “That’s okay. I don’t hate them. I think I turned out pretty alright.”
She’s tougher than she looks. I wasn’t ready for that.
“And the boyfriend thing?” she adds with a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I don’t have one of those. Writing’s been my life for a while. But if the right one comes along… who knows?”
I feel like an ass. Everyone sits there, forks hovering, unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “For prowlin’.”
I don’t apologize easily.
She looks around the table. Calm. Understanding. “No worries at all. I’d be curious too if a stranger showed up in my territory.”
Territory.
Maggie reaches over and squeezes Layla’s arm, and they share a smile that feels… earned.
“I have a feeling we’re gonna be like sisters,” Maggie says.
