“Fine.” I chug the rest of my beer cold, bitter fizz and he grabs my hand, calluses rough and warm.
He’s twisting and twirling me around to some country music—the beat steady, his hand firm on my lower back, thumb brushing bare skin where the dress dips. Maggie is taking video and pictures of us,the flashes are bright. After a few fast songs the music slows, soft, aching, the kind that makes you want to sway close.
“So two weeks and you’re leaving huh?” he asks, voice low, close to my ear, breath warm on my neck.
I smile, tight, forced. “I wonder when we’re going to cut the cake.”
I’m not talking about this right now. I’m leaving tomorrow and I’m already fighting back tears. If I start talking about it now well… I just might break down. Because even though he doesn’t love me back. I love him.
I break away from dancing, hand slipping from his and grab another beer, my third one plus a shot of tequila earlier. I’ll be jet-lagged tomorrow along with hungover but it’s alright. I’ll live. At least maybe I’ll be too miserable to think about him, to think about leaving this family.
“Time for cake!” Maggie screams and whistles.
Cole and I stand side by side in front of the cake while everyone sings happy birthday. The flashes of the cameras start to get to me a little, bright and blinding. His hand on my lower back starts to get to me a little as well, warm, steady, thumb brushing slow circles that make my skin tingle, memories of last night flashing hot and vivid.
I grab my plate and head for the table—they all follow. Maggie sits next to me, then Luke and Cole.
“You should just stay here right Mags?” Luke says.
“Right. You can have the guest house. We are going to miss you too much. Can’t you do your writing and everything here?” Maggie asks.
“It’s possible but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I chuckle nervously, voice tight.
“Why?” Luke asks.
“Why not? We all love you and want you here,” Maggie says.
I chuckle, I can’t help it. It’s bitter, broken.
“I’m confused, what's funny?” Maggie says.
I look at Cole but he won’t even make eye contact with me, staring at his plate, jaw tight.
“I’m a good friend Maggie,” I look in Maggie's eyes “But it’s probably best I leave. The sooner the better, right Cole?”
I look at him.
He freezes, fork paused, eyes finally meeting mine, wide, shocked.
“I heard you. Everything you said and everything you won’t say.” I take the last bite of my cake, sweet icing sticking to my teeth and stand. “Maggie, Luke, this was an amazing party. I love you both very much but I am going to call it a night.”
“Layla,” Cole says, voice low, rough, almost pleading.
I just shake my head and grab a couple carrots from the stand so I can go feed Sara and Shadow. And to say my goodbyesto those horses. They are the sweetest, the best and I never thought I’d be attached to this large of an animal before. I also never thought I’d find a family and then leave that said family but here we are. Happy fucking birthday to me.
Chapter 31
I’m On Fire
Cole
I wake up to the sound of boots stomping and yelling, sharp, panicked voices cutting through the dark. My eyes snap open. The clock on the nightstand glows 2:47 a.m. What the fuck is going on? Then I smell it. Smoke. Thick, acrid, seeping under the door, burning my throat even before I’m fully awake. My heart slams into my ribs. Fire. The sound of horses neighing in distress.The barn.
I throw the covers off, yank on jeans, rough denim scraping my thighs, grab a T-shirt from the floor, tug it over my head, shove my feet into boots. No socks. No time. I’m out the door, running down the steps, the cold night air hitting me like a slap, carrying more smoke, more panic.
Outside it’s chaos. Ranch hands yelling, flashlights swinging wild, shadows jumping across the yard. Maggie’s screaming orders, Luke hauling hoses, Dad standing frozen on the porch, face pale in the firelight.
“Dad, just stay here!” I yell back at him. Oh my god, the horse stalls.The horses. God almighty. There looks to be a small fire in the back of the barn, an orange glow flickering through the open doors, smoke pouring thick and black, but it’s growing fast, licking up the old wood like it’s starving.
