“Say it,” she demands, voice rising again, desperate.
“I want you to stay, Layla.”
“Not that, anything but that. I need more than just those words from you.” she says.
“Lay—”
“I love you,” she interrupts, sharp, raw, tears spilling over now. “God damnit, Cole. I love you. Can’t you see? And you just keep pushing me away.”
Tears running down her face. I’m in shock. She loves me? I haven’t heard that from a woman since Abby. The words hit like a punch, hard, deep in the chest, stealing my air. She’s standing there waiting for me to say something. Anything. Eyes wide, pleading, mascara streaking black down her cheeks.
“Layla, I—”
I’m frozen. I don’t know what to say. My throat’s locked up, heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurts.Tears streaming down her face. Slowly. She’s shaking, small, vulnerable, waiting.
“Again. You’re going quiet on me, again. Fine, Cole.” She storms off, boots stomping, braid swinging, the barn door banging open behind her.
“Layla, wait.” I run for her, grab her arm, gentle, but firm.
“No, Cole. Stop it. Let go of me.” She cries, voice breaking, wrenching her arm free, running out of the barn. I won't stop her. I just stand there like an idiot, ranch hands staring, tools forgotten in their hands, the air thick with hay dust and silence.
She doesn’t love me. Abby told me she loved me and she left in a time where I needed her most. That wasn’t love. Layla doesn’t love me. She loves the thought of me, maybe the thought of us but she doesn’t love me. The real me. The quiet, broken, scared-to-say-it me. The one who builds things instead of saying words. The one who freezes when it matters most. I do love her but knowing she’s going to leave, I can never admit that. It would destroy me.
My chest feels hollow. I lean against the post, forehead to the rough wood, breathing hard. I fucked it up. Again.
Chapter 28
Coyote ugly
Layla
Well this is going to be an awkward dinner. I can’t believe I just told him I loved him. I do love him. I’ve never told a man I loved him first. I don’t know if I’ve even ever truly been in love because this feels different. This is different. The words are still burning in my throat, raw and exposed, like I ripped them out and handed them to him on a platter. My chest aches—tight, heavy, like I can’t get a full breath. I stomp up the front steps of the main house, boots loud on the wood, and I can hear everyone yelling inside, raised voices, chairs scraping, the familiar chaos of the Marshall family.
I walk in and everyone looks at me for a second, eyes wide, mid-argument, then goes back to freaking out. Glad they are comfortable enough around me now that they can bethemselves. I sit down, grab a roll, still hot, buttery, the crust flaking under my fingers and pour myself some sweet tea, the ice clinking loud against the glass.
“Alright everyone hush,” John snaps, voice cutting through like a whip.
Everyone quiets. The room settles into a tense hush, silverware pausing, breaths held.
“We need to take shifts,” he says.
“What’s going on?” I say, mouth full, crumbs on my lips.
“There are coyotes. The McCann’s called to warn us that they were making their way here and last night one of our cows was attacked.”
I gasp. “Oh my god. Okay. Anything I can do to help?”
“You and Cole go on watch after dinner. At least till midnight. Then Maggie and Luke will relieve you,” John says.
“Okay,” I say reluctantly, voice small, stomach twisting at the thought of hours alone with him in the dark.
“Dad, I don’t—” Cole starts.
“Is there a problem?” John asks, eyebrow raised.
Cole is silent. Jaw tight, eyes on his plate.
“Not at all,” I say, quick, before the silence stretches too long.
