“That sounds so fun,” I sigh. “I need to get out of this house. I’ve been cooped up all week. But… I did get a lot of writing done.”
“That’s a good thing,” she says.
I hesitate, then ask, “What about you, Mags? You moved back, do you have someone special waiting for you back home?”
I’ve realized she’s been holding space for everyone else and I haven’t even asked about her.
She exhales slowly. “This is my home again. I’m staying for a while. I did have someone, but I wasn’t enough. And it was time for me to come back.”
She looks down for a second before continuing. “I left right after Mom died. Same time Abby left Cole. I didn’t handle losing her well. I left too much on Cole. I think he associates me with leaving… and Abby leaving him too. I love Cole. He was always our protector, steady, watchful, putting himself between us and anything that might hurt. He was a great big brother to Luke and me, the kind who showed up without being asked and stayed even when things got hard. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without Cole. He shaped me in ways I’m still discovering, and no matter how much time passes, that will always be true.”
Everyone in this family learned how to leave. No one has learned how to stay.
My chest tightens. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”
She shrugs. “I fucked up, Layla. And now it’s time to make up for it. He’s my big brother.”
I hesitate. “Why did Abby leave him?”
“She couldn’t handle it,” Maggie says quietly. “They were engaged right before Mom died. After that, everything fell apart. She cheated. He took her back. But listen—that’s not my story to tell. It’s his.”
“I understand,” I say. “It’s just hard to get anything out of him. He’s so stubborn.”
“That he is,” Maggie agrees. “But you two will work it out.”
“I hope so,” I say softly. “He seems like a great guy underneath all that broodiness.”
She laughs and stands. “And that’s my cue.”
She heads for the door, then turns back. “Meet me out front at six a.m. Wear something cute—boots, shorts, tank top, maybe a flannel. Country chic.” She winks. “And don’t forget the boots. You’ll be in the mud.”
“I won’t forget,” I promise.
I close the door behind her, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. I’ll show up tomorrow not for Cole or to beg for his attention but for me.
My alarm goes off at 5:15 a.m., shrill and obnoxious, but I’m already awake before it finishes the second ring. I slap my phone silent and swing my legs out of bed, adrenaline humming through me like I’ve got somewhere important to be.
Because I do.
And yeah, maybe a tiny, very unhinged part of me picked out an outfit knowing damn well it would get under Cole’s skin. Not because I need his attention but because I’d like to know I still have it.
A fitted white tank that hugs my curves just right. Cutoff blue jean shorts, real Daisy Dukes, worn soft at the edges. And the Justin boots Maggie gave me, scuffed and sturdy and somehow already mine.
I pour my coffee, take that first sip, and damn near moan.
“Good morning, Tennessee,” I murmur, leaning against the counter while the caffeine hits my bloodstream.
I jump in the shower, quick but thorough. I don’t linger, but my mind does.
Cole slips in uninvited.
Those arms. That strength. The way his hand felt on my face, rough thumb dragging my bottom lip down before he kissed me like he’d been starving. The way his mouth moved with mine—confident, demanding—until he panicked and ran.
Whew. Yep, that ruined it. Okay, Layla. Get. It. Together.
I towel off, slip into my outfit, keep my makeup light and natural. I don’t need more than that. I braid my hair into two loose plaits and pull them forward over my shoulders.
I check the time.
