I slide the bar, put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Oh my god. You answered!” Her voice is surprised, soft, a little breathless. Like she didn’t expect me to pick up.
“Yeah,” I say, low. “Is there an emergency?”
“No. I just wanted to tell you congratulations.” Somber now, quieter.
“Oh. Thanks.” The blonde laughs again, too loud, too close. Layla goes silent on the other end. I know she heard it. Fuck.
“Oh,” she says after a beat, voice flat.
“I’ll let you go. Sorry to bother you. You sound busy.”
“It’s okay, we’re just at the bar—”
She hangs up.
Oh fuck.
She heard the damn bimbo next to me laughing, probably thinking I’m out getting my dick wet with some random after the win.
Lord knows what Layla’s thinking right now, hurt, angry, convinced she’s nothing to me. I stare at the dark screen, stomach twisting. The blonde’s hand is back on my thigh; I shift away, not even polite about it.
I have some explaining to do when I get back. And Layla has some choices to make. Because I can’t keep living like this—half in, half out, too chickenshit to say what I want. Too stubborn to text her like a normal person. Too scared she’ll choose Seattle over me, over the ranch, over this life I’m trying to show her could be hers.
I throw back the last of my drink, set the glass down hard. Dad’s watching me now, quiet, like he knows exactly what just happened. Luke’s still flirting, oblivious.
I stand up. “I’m heading back to the hotel.”
Luke frowns. “Already?”
“Yeah. Long drive tomorrow.”
Dad nods once—understanding. “Get some rest, son.”
I push through the crowd, out into the night air—cooler, quieter, stars sharp overhead. The bar noise fades behind me. All I can hear is Layla’s voice in my head—soft, hurt, hanging up before I could fix it. One more night. One more night and I’m home. And I’m not letting her think she’s anything less than everything.
Chapter 20
Say Something
Layla
We’re all waiting on the steps. Maggie got the call they were almost back, so we decided to greet them. Of course I want to see Cole. John and Luke are a plus. But mostly Cole. The porch light is on, casting a warm yellow glow across the gravel, moths fluttering in frantic circles around the bulb. The night air is cooler now, carrying the faint scent of cut hay from the fields and the distant lowing of cattle settling for the night.
My bare arms prickle with goosebumps, but I’m not cold. I’m buzzing. Embarrassed. Hurt. The tit pic still burns in my mind—the way I sent it drunk and hopeful, the way he just liked it. No words. No “sexy” or “I want you.” Just a heart. And then the phone call.
That laugh. I keep replaying it, wondering if she was pretty, if she touched him, if he smiled at her the way he smiles at me when he thinks no one’s looking. I need to take a step back before I get hurt. Which is always me in every past relationship, falling too fast, giving too much, ending up alone with my heart in pieces.
“Oh here they are,” Nancy says, voice soft but excited.
I see headlights cut through the dark, then the crunch of gravel as the big truck pulls up and parks. The trailer rocks gently behind it, horses shifting inside with soft snorts and thuds.
Maggie runs to Luke before he’s even out of the cab. Nancy hurries to John, arms open. I stand here on the steps, heart hammering, hands twisting in the hem of my shirt.
Cole is in the driver seat. Staring at me. Looking me up and down—slow, deliberate, eyes dark under the brim of his hat. My stomach flips. I give a smile. A small, polite, faint smile. Nothing more. I won’t give him more until he gives me something.
He hops down out of the truck, boots hitting gravel with a heavy thud and walks over. I walk down the porch steps to meet him halfway, gravel sharp under my bare feet.
